A Waste of Time

Chapter 78: Forgotten Prism

Elder Ping’s dark eyes followed the flurry of sparks and flickering shadows at the center of the clearing, the clash of flame and steel snapping through the air like thunder trapped between two storms. Xue Lian’s chain whirled in lethal arcs, the Meteor Hammer and Sickle weaving a dance meant to test every slip of Jia’s defenses — yet the Senior Disciple’s posture made something itch uncomfortably at the base of Ping’s skull.

Still holding back, she thought, folding her fan tight against her palm until the wood creaked. Xue Lian was clever — sometimes too clever for her own good. She’d seen Jia’s trump cards burn bright already, Spirits bared to the world, yet the girl still dared to keep her true techniques sheathed in silence, waiting for a perfect opening that might never come.

Foolish girl… show your claws fully or risk losing a hand. Ping’s jaw tensed. It was her burden — her responsibility — to see that all ten of these brash cubs returned to the Mountain alive and whole. Bruised pride and battered egos? Fine. She welcomed the lesson of humiliation — that pain forged stronger steel in the end. But bones shattered, meridians torn, a life flickering out in front of these peasants? Unacceptable. That stain would be hers to answer for — and no Sect Elder wanted to crawl to the Grand Elders bearing that sort of shame.

Her eyes tightened at the corners as she watched Jia lash another bolt of Lightning at the chain, Fire curling around her arms like a living cloak. Come on then, Xue Lian… either draw blood cleanly or step back while you still have the dignity to do so.

Ru’s brow furrowed beneath the fringe of his tied hair, eyes narrowed to thin slits as he tracked every sweep and lash of chain in Xue Lian’s grip. The girl’s Meteor Hammer arced wide, hunting openings only to coil back in each time — not to strike to kill, but to harry, to bind, to choke Jia’s flames into narrow streams she could tame. Even the Sickle flickered in and out of reach, its silver edge tasting only sparks instead of flesh.

His hand rested absently on the hilt of the Sword, the half-forged Weapon angled down toward the ground like a patient fang waiting to bare itself. She’s on the defensive, Ru noted. Why would an Inner Disciple flaunt an Offensive Spiritual Treasure only to play jailer instead of executioner? His gaze dipped to the glint of polished Jade hugging Xue Lian’s wrist — a simple Cuff, or so it seemed to the untrained eye. Yet each time Jia’s Lightning hissed too close, a ripple of translucent force flickered from that Cuff, eating the impact before it bit deeper.

Ru’s jaw flexed. She was feeding it Qi — subtle, controlled, a trickle so small it vanished under the storm of power whipping through the clearing. She’d yet to flare her core strength even once. He could feel it — the deliberate leash on her aura, the careful cage around her true Element. Concealing her edge until the last possible breath, he thought grimly. She wants a clean win, a tidy boast to throw at my sister’s feet.

But instinct, older than his Cultivation and sharpened by darker lessons, told him something else entirely. Ru’s eyes flicked to Daemon for a heartbeat, then back to the two combatants. You’re not in the Seventh-Stage, are you, girl? You’re higher — you’re coiling low to strike high. The Swordsman’s lips twitched, but whether it was a smirk or a warning, even he wasn’t sure.

At last, Jia’s eyes flared with a glint that made Ru’s breath catch — the patient coil in her shoulders snapping free. She’d had enough of Xue Lian’s smug dance and cautious feints. One soft, inaudible word under her breath, and the tiny gold Phoenix perched on her right shoulder puffed its feathers with a sharp chirp, answered an instant later by the black Raven-like Spirit on her left with a harsh, crackling scree.

In the same heartbeat, a lance of Lightning arced from the Raven’s wing while a stream of searing Fire burst from the Phoenix’s chest. The two forces spiraled as they met — twisting into a single blazing torrent that slammed into the whirlpool swirl of the Obsidian Chain Xue Lian flung out to catch it. The Meteor Hammer followed, spinning to absorb the brunt, but the fused attack didn’t falter. It bit down, compressing chain and iron into a knot that shuddered under the weight of that unnatural power.

When the burning spiral struck the border of Xue Lian’s Protective Spiritual Treasure — the polished Jade cuff clinging tight to her wrist — a muffled crack split the air, sharp enough to wrench every Cultivator’s attention into razor focus. For an instant the entire clearing seemed to hold its breath as tiny fractures spidered across the Jade, thin but unmistakable to eyes trained to catch a Spirit’s every flicker.

A hiss and a collective inhale rippled through the gathered crowd. In one clean flash, Jia’s twin Martial Spirits had laid bare their true threat — not just as raw force, but as corrosive fangs that could strip the integrity from a Protective Spiritual Treasure even after an Offensive Spiritual Treasure dulled their edge.

All eyes snapped to the battered Obsidian Chain and the Meteor Hammer next — both bore fresh pitting, hairline cracks blooming like frost across blackened links and iron skin. For a Cultivator of Xue Lian’s standing, that was a stain no careful boast could hide.

Her expression curdled — the flicker of cold arrogance gone, replaced by the sour twist of someone forced to swallow the taste of her own caution turned against her. Had she simply fed her Qi openly to strengthen both her Treasures from the start, the backlash would never have cut so deep. If I’d unleashed my Martial Spirit outright… The thought burned like bile at the back of her throat. She’d gambled on winning pretty — and now paid for it in broken steel and bleeding pride.

The beauty in black let out a slow, measured sigh, her fan flicking open in her lap as she sat beside Daemon atop Kirin’s talon. Her sharp gaze traced the damage Daemon was only now noticing — the battered curve of the Meteor Hammer, once round and balanced, now slightly warped where Fire and Lightning had bitten deep. The fused kinks along the Obsidian Chain glimmered like lumps of cooling slag under the scattered torchlight, a clear sign that its once-fluid reach would now falter, drag, catch where it should have danced like silk and steel.

Yet even as his eyes tracked those broken links, Daemon’s attention, like every gasping throat around the clearing, shifted to the one who’d done the breaking. Jia stood in the churned earth, shoulders heaving, flame and sparks flickering wild at her fingertips — a girl balanced on the frayed edge of her Dantian’s last breath. A single step, maybe two, and her Qi would run dry, every drop squeezed from marrow and bone just to hold her ground.

Xue Lian’s expression, caught in the glow of that dying flame, had soured into something darker — a stormcloud of humiliation stitched through with raw, reckless anger that made even Ru’s lips tighten as he watched from behind.

Curiosity cracked through the hush as Daemon tilted his head toward Ru, voice calm but sharp with genuine puzzle. “How is she still using Fire Qi?” he asked, nodding at Jia’s stubborn embers. “Didn’t she drain it all when she fought Yue Lan?”

Ru only started to answer — but the soft, amused scoff that slipped from the woman in black cut him off. She tapped the edge of her fan against her palm, half to hide the flicker of satisfaction dancing behind her lashes. So, she mused, this fearless brat really doesn’t know a thing. Mortal through and through — not just in blood, but in the gaps behind those sharp eyes of his.

Out loud, her voice dripped calm authority as she explained, “Your maid isn’t using stored Fire Qi, young master Daemon. She’s converting her Lightning Qi — feeding it through her Dantian to birth Fire from Thunder. It’s likely her Cultivation Technique is the Lightning-Cloud Thunder-Fire Manual, or something close to it.”

Her gaze drifted back to Jia, who stood rooted like a battered torch, two Martial Spirits perched on her shoulders like shadows of her stubborn will. “It’s clever — but reckless,” the Elder added coolly. “She’s pushed herself past her natural limit. Sustaining two Martial Spirits at the Seventh-Stage of the Qi-Gathering Realm is a blade with two edges — a boon now, a bleed of strength she may not get back once the last spark burns out.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the faint gleam of sunlight flickering across the slope of his cheek as he watched Jia brace herself for yet another reckless surge. He could feel the storm at the edge of her Dantian, a reckless promise to burn everything left inside her veins if that’s what it took to flatten Xue Lian in front of him.

Enough, he thought — not with annoyance, but with the cold weight of responsibility settling deeper in his chest. She’d given everything she had, twice over, and even now stood ready to bleed dry for the sake of his face, his pride, his name. He wouldn’t allow it — not this time.

His voice sliced through the tense hush, carried on the breeze that whispered through the clearing’s grass and the low branches at the forest’s edge. “One move,” he said flatly, loud enough for every Cultivator and peasant skulking near the treeline to hear him clear. His words cracked like a blade tapped against stone. “I’ll allow you one more move, Jia. One strike, one defense — I don’t care which. Spend it wisely.”

He shifted slightly on Kirin’s talon, chin lifted, eyes cold with finality. “When that’s done, this fight is done. Win or lose, it ends here. Your honor’s already proven — don’t burn the bones just to show there’s nothing left to take.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers and merchants, their eyes darting between the battered girl at the clearing’s heart and the boy who’d just leashed her storm with a single sentence. Even Ru exhaled through his nose, relief and approval mingling in the steady line of his jaw.

Xue Lian’s brow twitched, the corner of her lip curling in a mixture of frustration and grudging respect. Elder Ping hid the smallest smile behind her fan, thinking, So you do know how to protect your people, boy. Not just use them.

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