A Waste of Time

Chapter 76: Withered Crown

As Jia’s second Martial Spirit — the little black Lightning Bird — erupted in a blast of color and thunder, the entire audience froze, Elder Ping included. The villagers and merchants gasped in unison, the remaining Inner Disciples stiffened in alarm, and even Ru’s tired eyes flared wide at the raw power swirling around his little sister.

But instead of celebrating the overwhelming reversal of momentum, Daemon just leaned back lazily against Kirin’s massive talon, one elbow propped on the rough scales like a throne’s armrest — smirk crooked, gaze steady on the battlefield.

Under his breath, he muttered with a trace of mock disappointment:

"Tch. Would’ve been better if she knocked that Yue Lan chick out cold before pulling that out. The next one would’ve pissed themselves just seeing the bird land on her shoulder. Ruined half the fun, honestly."

He flicked a glance at Elder Ping when he felt her eyes burning into him, his tone casual, almost playful:

"You people really can’t help but drag it out, huh? Always gotta squeeze out every drop of face before you lose it anyway…"

Elder Ping’s curiosity spiked again at the boy’s words and how unbothered he was. Her sharp eyes searched his young face, seeking a crack in that smug confidence but finding none. He looked like a harmless mortal child — yet here he was, treating a duel between Inner Disciples like a street show for his amusement.

Her mind kept circling back to how she’d completely underestimated this trio — the siblings with their hidden Martial Spirits, the boy with his casual arrogance that didn’t match any ordinary mortal… and the Soul-Snatcher Eagle itself, calm yet ready to tear out a throat the moment its master willed it.

She broke the silence at last, voice soft but edged:

“Young master Daemon… do you truly believe your maid will win this match now?”

Daemon didn’t even blink.

“Did you not see the little bird? Of course she will. And you…” — he flashed her a grin that was more wolf than boy — “You were about to tell me what a Martial Spirit really means, weren’t you? Since I’m such an ignorant mortal and all.”

Ru, still standing behind Kirin’s talon, nodded as if to back his young master up — his battered body swaying slightly but his eyes fixed protectively on Jia’s blazing figure.

He added in a low voice:

“Please do, Elder Ping. I’d like to know too… since it’s about my little sister.”

Elder Ping exhaled, her gaze flicking from Ru to Daemon, then back to Jia and her twin Spirits — one flame-gold, the other crackling black and silver with Lightning. She weighed the value of words in her mind but realized she’d already lost the high ground.

If they truly didn’t know, it was more dangerous to stay silent.

So she did what a proper Elder should do — she educated.

“A Martial Spirit,” she began slowly, “is the awakened fragment of a being’s true potential, passed down through Bloodlines or forged through extreme fate. In our Mountain, usually Disciples will never awaken one before the Foundation-Establishment Realm — and even then, only a few of the most Elite will keep it stable enough to be able to use during the Late-Stages, and only then. Having two at the Qi-Gathering Realm…”

She trailed off, breath catching again at the sheer absurdity of it.

Daemon just hummed, clicking his tongue once more in the same dismissive rhythm:

"Hah. So she’s special. I told you two you’re weird."

He flicked Ru’s arm with the back of his finger, earning a small grunt of embarrassment from the older man.

Elder Ping’s eyes narrowed — part frustration, part awe, and part reluctant admiration for the way this mortal boy turned this entire scene upside down with only a few casual lines and a snap of his fingers.

As Jia pressed her counterattack, the little black Lightning Bird circling her shoulder unleashed arcs of raw Electricity that crackled like thunderclaps in miniature. The snow and mist that had once made Yue Lan’s domain so suffocating were now battered away by each streak of crackling power and burning flame.

Elder Ping watched the battle but found her eyes drifting back to the boy lounging so insolently against Kirin’s massive talon. She caught it at once — Daemon’s posture was the same, but his eyes had gone glassy. For all his mocking jabs and playful smirk, something deep and calculating flickered there behind the lazy facade.

He’s thinking… weighing something… she realized instinctively.

Then Jia broke through a half-raised wall of ice with a burst of Lightning that left Yue Lan stumbling backward — a hiss of ozone trailing behind her like a thunderstorm in human shape.

Daemon’s eyes snapped back into focus as if a piece of his puzzle had clicked into place. He turned his head slightly, catching Elder Ping’s sharp gaze with an almost too-casual flick of his eyes.

“Elder Ping… you said earlier that Cultivators awaken Martial Spirits through Bloodlines or extreme fate, right?”

The woman nodded slowly, choosing her words with care this time.

“Correct. Those are the only two recognized paths. A Martial Spirit is either inherited from a powerful ancestor — passed through the Bloodline — or forced into existence when a Cultivator endures an event so extraordinary that it forges that Spirit within their Dantian.”

Daemon tapped the scale beneath his elbow once, a soft metallic clink

that drew Ru’s quiet attention too. The Swordsman shifted behind Kirin’s talon, bruised arms crossed, curious.“So…” Daemon drawled, the boyish slouch contrasting with the sharp glint now dancing in his eyes, “which one do you think my maid has? Bloodline or ‘extreme fate’?”

Elder Ping paused. She followed his gaze to Jia — the fierce little maid who once seemed so fragile, now wielding fire and Lightning and a pair of Spirits that should not exist in a mere Qi-Gathering body.

Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again as her mind struggled to land on an answer that made sense.

“...If I had to guess,” she said finally, voice edged with reluctant wonder, “I would say Bloodline. Something hidden… maybe royal or ancient. No peasant’s child could awaken two. And definitely not in this Realm.”

Daemon’s smile was thin. Amused. But his eyes… no amusement at all.

Daemon’s thoughts whirled like a well-oiled cog as he watched in silence — Jia forcing Yue Lan to abandon her graceful posturing and engage in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Ru’s teachings were written all over her movements: not the rigid forms of orthodox sect duels, but ruthless, efficient strikes aimed to break the enemy down as fast as possible.

Elder Ping stole a sideways glance at the boy who was supposedly just another mortal child — only to find him utterly absorbed, yet oddly relaxed against Kirin’s talon.

But then Daemon caught her watchful eyes again. He realized he’d taken plenty from her — her explanations, her reactions — yet given nothing in return. So he gave her what she’d been silently dying to know.

“Don’t look so surprised, Elder Ping,” he said, voice casual, eyes locked on the fight where Yue Lan’s defensive Spiritual Treasures were now pinned down — the gold bird coiling flames to bind the Snow Ribbon, the black bird’s crackling arcs suppressing the Jade-Phoenix Hairpin’s icy glow. “Those Martial Spirits? Not from some Bloodline Inheritance like you think.”

He flicked his chin toward Ru, who stood stoically at Kirin’s side — battered but still protective, even now.

“Her big brother right here? No Martial Spirit at all. If they were inherited… he’d have them too.”

Elder Ping’s mouth parted slightly — but before she could protest, she confirmed it for herself. Her Spirit Sense brushed over Ru’s core — nothing. Not even a flicker of a Spirit’s echo within him. Just raw, battered Water Qi.

Daemon didn’t bother to hide his inward nod of satisfaction as Yue Lan’s last desperate defenses buckled under Jia’s relentless flurry. He thought, with a faint curl of amusement: Good thing those cheap Daggers broke early, or that stubborn Sect girl would be in pieces by now if Jia pinned her like this with blades instead of bare knuckles and open palms.

Elder Ping snapped out of her stunned haze the moment she saw Yue Lan’s hair whip sideways under another vicious backhand, humiliation plain on the proud Disciple’s face as she stumbled backward over the churned-up dirt. The older woman’s eyes narrowed — she’d misjudged. She should have ended this sooner.

And she did. Her Qi uncoiled like a silent wave — an invisible hand that pressed on both girls’ shoulders with suffocating authority.

“Stop!” Elder Ping’s voice cracked through the clash like a whip, her aura heavy and undeniable as it forced Jia’s next swing to halt just inches from Yue Lan’s cheek — the heat of the Fire Qi licking at the younger girl’s frozen expression.

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