A Waste of Time

Chapter 92: Luminous Shade

Daemon hit the ground with a resounding bang. The hardened earth cracked beneath his landing, and a small cloud of dust burst upward, momentarily obscuring his small frame. The crowd collectively sucked in a breath, reminded yet again of the raw, absurd Strength this boy carried in his young body.

The third of the six Nie brothers, Nie Xiaoli, appeared at the edge of the circle in record time, only to be halted by the thick, twisting wall of roots that ringed the arena. Before he could curse his bad luck, the coiled barrier shifted, its tendrils pulling back just enough to form an opening—Elder Ping’s subtle intervention. Her fan twitched once at her side, her expression unreadable.

Yu Tianwu, like everyone else, followed the man’s movements with interest. Nie Xiaoli strode across the hardened battlefield with purpose and handed Daemon a Blade perfectly proportioned for the boy’s frame. Without pausing, he turned and made his way toward the massive Overlord Spear planted before Kirin’s towering body. But instead of touching the Spear, the blacksmith’s calloused hands retrieved another Blade—this one massive, its steel catching what little sunlight filtered through the brooding clouds. He carried it to Yan Ru, who accepted it with a nod before planting it beside the Spear like a second monolith guarding the mount.

A low ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd. Why did these blacksmiths always bring two Weapons whenever the boy asked for one? And why were the sizes so extreme? One perfectly suited for Daemon’s small frame, the other so large it looked better in the hands of a giant than a human. The newly delivered Blade was absurd—its surface broad, its spine thick, and its weight visibly immense. It looked as though it could cleave a fully grown tree in a single swing… and make it look effortless.

“Sorry I made you wait,” Daemon said at last, his gaze meeting Yu Tianwu’s before dropping to study the man’s weapon. His lips curled in mock jealousy. “Man… yours looks so much cooler than mine. Now I’ve got to do my best to make you look bad.”

The faintest crease formed between Yu Tianwu’s brows, but before he could respond, the boy’s Lightning-Cocoon Skill flared to life. Arcs of silver electricity crawled and hissed along his body as he launched himself forward in a direct, unhesitating charge.

As the distance closed, Daemon’s thoughts sharpened. My Lightning feels weaker… less lively. Must be running low after summoning that storm. I really hope it rains. This guy’s flames look dangerous.

This brat must really want me to burn him to a crisp.

Yu Tianwu’s gaze sharpened as his stance widened, one foot grinding into the hardened soil for leverage. His Blade moved in a swift, practiced arc, the blood-red edge cutting through the air like a vengeful crescent moon. “Crescent-Inferno!”

From the sweep of his steel, a searing line of Fire Qi erupted—condensed, focused, and unnervingly fast. The heat shimmered in the air as it streaked toward Daemon, the ground beneath its path blackening and cracking under the sudden spike in temperature. The attack was launched well before the boy could even get within striking range, a calculated move to test and suppress his momentum.

The crowd reacted in waves—some flinching at the sudden blaze, others leaning forward in anticipation. Elder Ping’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, gauging not the attack itself but the boy’s reaction to it. Yan Ru’s grip on the incomplete Sword tightened unconsciously, while Yan Jia’s gaze flicked between the advancing arc of fire and her young master’s expression.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, but his lips curved ever so slightly—not quite a smile, more a challenge to the flames themselves. He knew he had two choices: shift his trajectory and give ground to dodge… or plant his feet, brace for the hit, and trust his battered Lightning-Cocoon Skill to endure. His reason screamed the former. His pride whispered the latter.

Let’s see… just how much you can take.

Silver arcs flared along his limbs as the boy made his choice.

Daemon’s grip tightened around the hilt, his jaw set as arcs of silver light began crawling up the length of his Blade. With a sharp exhale, he injected his Chain-Lightning Skill, the current surging down the Steel until the once dull-edged weapon—its surface scuffed and mottled like weathered iron—blazed to life in a sheath of crackling brilliance. What it lacked in natural sharpness, the Lightning now granted in deadly precision.

On one side stood Yu Tianwu, his reddish metal Blade wreathed in fierce Fire Qi, the heat pouring from it like the breath of a furnace. On the other, the boy whose weapon sang with the hiss and snap of raw silver Lightning, bright enough to sting the eyes.

When the two forces met—fire screaming against lightning—

Boom!

The detonation split the air, a shockwave kicking up dust and forcing the nearest spectators to shield their faces. A swirling cloud of steam, cinders, and dazzling arcs enveloped the space between them, the hiss of boiling mud mixing with the angry crackle of Lightning trying to outlast the blaze.

Through that roiling haze, a shape emerged—small, fast, and radiating the unstoppable momentum of a Rhino in full charge. It was Daemon, tearing through the remnants of the clash like nothing could bar his path.

But his protective halo of Lightning was gone, stripped away by the heat. His clothes hung in scorched tatters, threads curling into blackened edges. Even so, his skin bore only a faint flush of red, shimmering faintly with steam—marks of a body that had skirted the edge of first-degree burns and shrugged them off.

So… even without Asura’s Mana, I can take this much punishment, he thought, glancing briefly at the faint haze rising from his forearms. Looks like I’ll have to finish this one with pure brute force once this strike is done.

His Blade still hummed with the residual current of his only long-range Skill—enough for one last decisive blow. And now, Yu Tianwu was well within range. Daemon’s eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips tugging upward, every bad intention in the book written plain across his face as he drove forward to deliver it.

Yu Tianwu’s eyes tracked the boy’s charge, his stance settling instinctively. He would be a fool to think that a single diagonal chop earlier could keep this little monster at bay—not after what he’d witnessed. The chaos and ruin this brat had left in his wake during the bouts with his three Junior Sect Disciples still burned in the minds of all present. Every exchange had been riddled with bizarre, unpredictable methods and sheer destructive force that defied common sense.

This one… fights like a natural disaster wearing human skin, Yu Tianwu thought grimly.

Still, he was no fledgling. His gaze slid to the Lightning-coated Blade in Daemon’s hands, and his experienced eyes caught what others might miss—sloppy form, uneven grip, and tell-tale stiffness in the wrists. A novice Bladesman at best. Compared to the boy’s Swordsmanship or Spearmanship, this was clearly his weakest style.

That was enough for Yu Tianwu to shape his plan. He wouldn’t meet force with force; he’d parry the downward strike, avoid a direct clash, and then steer the tempo into his own hands. He had every confidence in his superior Bladesmanship—once he deflected that blow, he could lead this child around by the nose, forcing him into overextensions, baiting his aggression, and carving him down strike by calculated strike.

It was a tried-and-true approach. His defensive layer of Fire Qi would absorb the residual impact, keeping him safe from the worst of the boy’s power. From there, he could dismantle him piece by piece until Daemon was spent, disarmed, and beaten.

Then, Yu Tianwu mused, tightening his grip on his weapon, I’ll bundle him up and drag him back to the Sect—trussed like a fish hopelessly tangled in a net.

But the instant their Blades met, reality slammed into him harder than the steel itself. The shock didn’t just travel down his weapon—it crashed through his arms, rattled his shoulders, and hammered into his chest. His parry collapsed before it even truly began, and in that heartbeat, Yu Tianwu’s battle instincts screamed the truth he hadn’t wanted to face:

He was in deep trouble.

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