A Waste of Time

Chapter 71: Oblique Promise

The first clash of Swords rang out like thunder — Steel scraping Steel, sparks spitting from the edge where a Spiritual Treasure met an unfinished Spiritual Treasure. But in the heart of that clash, something unexpected happened.

For the briefest instant, the Sect Disciple’s eyes widened in surprise — his grip faltered, his movement stuttering as if some hidden current had jammed the flow of his Gold Qi. It was only a heartbeat’s pause, but for Ru, it was enough.

He pivoted on his back foot, then slammed a brutal kick into the young man’s stomach. The blow landed with a dull crack and a choked gasp. The Sect Disciple flew backward, crashing to the ground and rolling unceremoniously across the dirt until he landed in a sprawl at the feet of his watching peers.

Daemon blinked, genuine confusion flickering across his face as he leaned forward, hands resting lazily on his knees. “Jia,” he asked, loud enough for Elder Ping to hear every word, “what just happened? What’s this guy's Attribute?”

Jia, still hovering just behind his shoulder, lowered her voice but didn’t bother to hide her answer. “It’s the Gold Element, Young Master. Those who cultivate it can control all sorts of metal — sometimes even their opponent’s weapons. Looks like big brother Ru's Sword messed with his Qi flow for a moment.”

Daemon tilted his head, watching the young man pick himself up off the ground, doubled over and clutching his stomach in humiliated silence.

At his side, Elder Ping gave Daemon another subtle, sidelong glance. So he truly didn’t know, she thought, hiding her tiny exhale behind the rim of her sleeve as she pretended to nibble at another sweet. He really can’t sense their Realm, can’t read their Techniques… yet he’s sitting here calm as you please, as if I couldn’t kill him where he sits. Confident fool… or something far stranger?

Ru stooped, retrieved the fallen Sword with the gold cord still faintly flickering with its owner’s Gold Qi, then flipped it back toward its rightful master in an easy arc.

“We can continue if you wish,” he said coolly, voice more like an instructor than an enemy now. “But you’re clearly not suited for One-Sword Techniques. Stick to wielding both — or you’ll just embarrass yourself again.”

Shen Li caught the Weapon with both hands, his breath still ragged from the kick that had driven the air from his lungs moments ago. For a heartbeat, shame flickered behind his eyes — but instead of bristling, he lowered his head in a small nod, shoulders dropping as if a weight had finally slipped free.

“I understand,” Shen Li said quietly, his voice just loud enough for his fellow Disciples and Elder Ping to hear. “Thank you… for showing mercy, I'll remember it.”

Outer Elder Ping, watching from her place beside Daemon, let the corner of her painted lips curve upward in faint approval. With a flick of her fingers, she gestured for him to step back.

“Shen Li, stand down,” she said, her tone calm but leaving no room for argument. “You’ve done well enough. Let your Seniors and Juniors learn from experience — it’ll be good for them.”

Shen Li bowed once more to Ru — then turned sharply, spine straighter than before as he rejoined the line of yellow-robed Inner Disciples.

One of the young men stepped forward, eyes alight with excitement and a wide, confident smile spreading across his face. He paused just long enough to glance back at his fellow Sect Disciples — as if to make sure they were watching — then squared his shoulders and faced Ru directly, eager to flaunt his strength against this so-called Loose Cultivator.

Jia’s brow furrowed the instant she sensed his Qi. This one was in the Seventh Stage — just like her — but two full Sub-Realms above her big brother Ru. Her frown deepened into worry when the young man reached into his Space-Pouch and drew out a long, polished wooden Staff, its surface inscribed with faint lines that glowed green once he unleashed his Qi.

Wood Element, she realized grimly. It feeds on Water… and counters Lightning. Her gaze flicked anxiously to Ru’s back — she could already feel the pressure building in the air.

Beside her, Daemon only smiled, eyes gleaming with open interest as he leaned forward on Kirin’s talon. “Now that’s getting interesting!” he said cheerfully, popping the last of a sweet into his mouth. “How’s Ru going to handle this, I wonder?”

Outer Elder Ping cut him a sidelong glance, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the boy’s tone. So he does see it, she thought. Unlike before, he actually knows his servant is at a clear disadvantage — both in Cultivation Rank and Elemental Suppression… yet look at him. Sitting there grinning like he’s got nothing to lose. As if none of this touches him at all.

The young man stepped forward with a wide grin, twirling his Staff once before driving its butt into the packed earth with a sharp crack. A low hum spread outward as emerald light raced through the ground.

Before the gathered crowd’s widening eyes, tiny buds erupted from the soil in an expanding circle — fresh grass sprang up, thick and soft, weaving itself into a lush carpet. Wildflowers bloomed in clusters of white and pale purple, spreading twenty-five meters in all directions like a living stage just for him.

He tilted his chin up, basking in the whispers of awe.

“I am Lin Qinghai,” he declared proudly, voice ringing clear for every villager and merchant to hear. “Inner Disciple of the Ten-Thousand Beasts Mountain. A Branch Cultivator of the Verdant Spring Peak — and the one who will humble this so-called Swordsman before you all.”

Ru didn’t hesitate — the instant the flowers spread around Lin Qinghai’s feet, he stepped back beyond the emerald ring, eyes never leaving his opponent’s Staff for a heartbeat. He lowered his Sword in front of him and dipped his head slightly in greeting, but kept his body angled for a swift defense.

“Ru,” he said curtly, voice flat as cold iron. “I’ll be the one stopping you here.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Lin Qinghai’s smile — he tapped the Staff’s butt against the ground again, causing a few petals to spiral upward on a sudden breeze.

“Such caution?” Lin Qinghai taunted, his tone dripping with mocking delight. “Running from a field of flowers? And not even a surname to your name? How humble. Or is it shame? Are you that desperate to cling to some advantage, Loose-Cultivator?”

Ru’s snake-like eyes narrowed but he didn’t answer. He only shifted his weight, grip tightening on his unfinished Spiritual Treasure.

But before Lin Qinghai could press the taunt further, Daemon’s voice rang out, bright and amused from his perch on Kirin’s talon:

“He might not have had a surname before he met me,” Daemon called, a lazy grin on his lips, “but once he beats you up, he can share a surname with his little sister. I’ll allow it.”

A hush rippled through the villagers and the watching disciples. Lin Qinghai’s eyes flicked to Daemon, then back to Ru, the taunt caught on his tongue for a heartbeat as the Swordsman’s steady gaze met his own.

Both men flared their Qi to the fullest, the air around them humming with raw Elemental power as they channeled it straight from their Dantian into their Spiritual Treasures. Lin Qinghai’s Staff glowed an intense green, the scent of fresh leaves and damp earth thickening as he slammed its butt to the ground again, summoning the Spell of Spring Thorns.

In an instant, thick, python-like vines erupted from the carpet of grass and flowers, slithering with unnatural speed to coil around Ru’s feet and ankles. Thorned tendrils shot upward, twisting like serpents to bind his arms and neck — a living cage that shrank tighter with every heartbeat.

The spell’s layered strength fed greedily on the Spell of Verdant Bloom that Lin Qinghai had woven moments before, doubling its vitality, its speed, its suffocating reach.

Ru gritted his teeth, the Sword hacking at the constricting vines. Sparks flew as the blunt edge tore through the green coils with brute force alone — his Water Qi surged to soak and weaken the roots, while the Sword’s flickering Lightning danced through the cuts, burning the stubborn stalks from the inside out.

But every time he carved one down, three more snapped forward, thicker and stronger. Lin Qinghai advanced step by measured step, the wooden Staff a conductor for his relentless spread of living roots. Each push of his foot claimed more ground — and each heartbeat stole precious space from Ru’s footing.

He’s claiming too much, Ru thought, sweat beading at his brow. At this rate, I’ll be caged in before I can break his hold…

From his perch on Kirin’s talon, Daemon leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with an almost childlike fascination as he watched the vines swarm. He popped another sweet into his mouth, ignoring the nervous shifting of the villagers nearby.

“Interesting… so that’s how far he’ll go to get his prey cornered,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Beside him, Jia’s hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white against the folds of her sleeve. Her breath caught every time the thorns snagged at Ru’s clothes or brushed his skin.

“Big brother…” she whispered under her breath, biting down on her lip. Don’t let him trap you…

Elder Ping’s eyes flicked from Ru’s tightening circle to the lazy grin on Daemon’s face. A spark of irritation crossed her otherwise calm expression — her thoughts sharp behind her half-lidded gaze.

He watches like a child at a puppet show, she thought. So calm… as if there’s no chance this could turn against him. Does he trust that servant so completely — or is he testing him like a chess piece on a board?

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