A Waste of Time

Chapter 70: Shackled Horizon

The smug young man with twin Swords strapped to his waist squinted when Ru’s cold, snake-like eyes landed on him. His hand twitched toward his hilts, but Ru only let a cruel smile curl at his lips as he spoke, his voice clear enough for all to hear.

“What’s wrong? Carry two Swords yet no guts to draw them? A true Swordsman never shies from a challenge — he jumps on it.”

Daemon leaned back comfortably against Kirin’s talon, his gaze never leaving Elder Ping as she drifted closer. He raised a hand to accept a small dish of sweets from Jia, who had quietly fetched them from her pouch at his nod.

“Truth be told,” Daemon said lightly, popping a piece into his mouth, “my servant there is actually the one who’s supposed to be at a disadvantage in all this.”

Ping’s perfectly shaped brow arched a fraction. She accepted the plate Jia offered her, delicately picking up one of the sweet confections. “And why is that, Young Master Daemon?” she asked, more out of curiosity than courtesy.

Daemon gestured lazily at Ru’s back. “The reason is simple — Ru only stepped onto the Path of Immortality recently. He’s not exactly well-versed in crossing blades with other Cultivators yet.”

Jia chimed in, her voice soft but clear, “My big brother is also a whole Sub-Realm below that twin-Sword disciple. He’s just crossed the lower Middle-Rank of the Qi-Gathering Realm when he reached the Fifth-Stage days ago, while that Sect Disciple is already peaking in the Middle-Rank and almost about to enter the High-Rank by reaching the Seventh-Stage.”

Daemon hummed in mild interest, licking a trace of sugar from his thumb as if this fact amused him more than worried him.

At his side, Elder Ping gave him a subtle, sidelong glance — her eyes narrowed just enough to hide the flicker of calculation behind them. Is he playing at being ignorant… or does he truly not know how to sense their Realms?

Daemon’s eyes gleamed with amusement when he caught the other Sect Disciples exchanging mocking smiles at their hesitant comrade. Their ridicule was all it took to push the young man with the twin-Swords forward at last, pride forcing him to step up and face Ru.

Ru, already on edge, hid his excitement well — his expression calm, his snake-like eyes locked on his opponent.

The twin-Sword Disciple tried to puff himself up with a few bold words, he stopped a few paces from Ru, squared his shoulders, and cupped his fists in a gesture of exaggerated respect.

“Fellow Cultivator,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, his tone dripping with forced civility, “I am obliged to act in accordance with our Sect’s laws, not to bully the weak. My duty is simple — to confiscate this Spiritual Treasure forged unlawfully within our Mountain’s territory and to apprehend the boy behind you for trial before our elders.”

He shot a quick glance back at Elder Ping, hoping for a flicker of approval — but Ru didn’t spare him a reply. The Swordsman only shifted his feet, took his stance, eyes cold and unblinking, then raised the unfinished Sword his young master had forged with the help of his little Sister Jia's Fire Qi and gifted him with his own hands.

Ru’s posture was focused yet loose, a predator coiled and ready. By contrast, the young cultivator in yellow robe was visibly tense, knuckles whitening around his twin hilts.

The other Sect Disciples gave the pair room, stepping back until there was ample space for the clash. Around them, villagers and merchants edged back as well, careful to keep a respectful distance — but not so far that they’d miss a heartbeat of what was about to unfold.

The youngster unsheathed his twin-Swords in a single, fluid motion, his eyes hardening as he channeled his gold-colored Qi into the Spiritual Treasures. The air shifted instantly — a sharp, crushing pressure radiated outward, solid and oppressive, suffocating everything within ten meters of the Sect Disciple.

Ru didn’t flinch. He immediately flared his own blue Water Qi, forming a rippling shield around himself to withstand the sudden weight. His stance tightened as he welcomed the first strike coming straight for him.

The twin-Swords gleamed, nearly identical save for the gold and silver cords tied around their hilts — a small mark of pride and discipline.

Ru gave a slight nod, eyes sharp as the blades facing him. Good fundamentals. Solid basics. He’s a fine seedling — worthy of being an Inner Disciple of the Ten-Thousand Beasts Mountain. His expression didn’t shift, but the chill in his eyes deepened. But you’re rushing me like a bull just to save face in front of your friends. That’s not the mindset to bring to a fight.

His grip on Daemon’s unfinished Sword tightened. I’ll make sure you learn this lesson properly — respect your seniors, and never underestimate anyone again.

Ru met the first strike head-on, parrying the blow with a clean clash of Steel that sent sparks dancing in the air. He pivoted instantly, turning his body sideways just as the second Sword came slicing down — the downward arc cutting through nothing but air.

In the same motion, Ru stepped in close and slammed his boot against the young man’s right ankle, sending him stumbling off balance. Before his opponent could recover, Ru’s Sword hooked under the hilt of the Sword with the gold cord — a sharp twist and pull, and one of the prized Spiritual Treasures clattered to the ground, skidding across the packed earth.

The crowd gasped as the tide turned in an instant — from the young man storming forward with fierce slashes and cuts that never quite found their mark, to this: disarmed, stumbling, his momentum shattered in a heartbeat.

Ru didn’t press his advantage right away. Instead, he stepped back and let his opponent find his footing again — a small mercy that only stung the young man’s pride even more.

The Sect Disciple’s eyes flared with rage as faint whispers drifted through the crowd — small gasps, a few stifled laughs, even a flicker of amusement on the faces of his own peers. The shame bit deeper than any blade.

No longer trying to restrain himself for the sake of appearances, the young man snarled under his breath and poured Gold Qi into his remaining Spiritual Treasure. In response, the Weapon shuddered in his grip — its shape shifting before the crowd’s eyes as if it were alive, gold light coiling around Steel until its edge looked sharper, heavier, deadlier than before.

Ru instantly sensed the danger in his opponent’s reshaped Weapon — the weight of its killing edge was different now, more vicious, more alive. His focus snapped to its peak in a heartbeat. In this clash, he had no room for half-measures; he had to draw on every trick in the book, every scrap of experience gathered in his years as an Assassin, just to keep the young man from seizing control of the fight.

He’s pushing me to the edge, Ru admitted to himself, boots scraping back over the hard-packed ground as sparks flew. Even my Water Qi’s draining faster than I’d like…

But right at the center of his spiraling thoughts, Daemon’s childish voice rang out, cutting through the clash like a bell:

“Why do you keep insisting on playing the gentleman? Can’t you see he’s giving it everything he’s got? He’s already a Sub-Realm above you, you moron! Is that not enough of a handicap? Or are you actually enjoying playing with your food?”

The sharp rebuke hit harder than any blade. Ru’s eyes narrowed — and without hesitation, he matched his opponent’s resolve. He poured his Water Qi straight into the unfinished Sword in his hand.

The blade erupted with a sudden flash — blinding arcs of Lightning crackled to life, weaving through the rippling sheath of Water Qi that already shielded his body. A lattice of electric current flickered and danced across his skin, burning away the oppressive weight of his opponent’s Qi and breaking the suffocating hold of the Sect Disciple’s technique.

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