The Azure Heaven Sect rested beneath the gentle glow of the moon. Mist rolled down from the mountain peaks like silver veils, curling between tiled roofs and lantern-lit courtyards. Disciples had long since retreated to their huts, their breaths steady with cultivation meditation or the deep sleep of exhaustion.
All was calm.
All except for one hut on the far edge of the outer sect, where a lone figure sat at a low wooden table, sipping tea as though the world could not trouble him.
Jiang Hao exhaled softly, watching steam rise from his cup. His robe hung loosely from his shoulders, his long hair tied back carelessly. His eyes, sharp yet relaxed, reflected the lantern flame's glow.
"Another day done," he murmured to himself, stretching. "Morning patrol, afternoon drills, evening lectures. Nine to five. A proper shift. Now, tea before bed."
He leaned back, satisfied. In his past life, he had worked until his body collapsed, burning himself out in endless overtime. Here, in this world of swords and immortals, he had sworn never again. He had found his dao, his truth: balance, peace, nine to five.
Jiang Hao sipped his tea. "Not even heaven itself will drag me into overtime."
The words had barely left his lips when the ground trembled.
At first it was subtle, a faint vibration under the floorboards. Then stronger. Cups rattled on the table, dust fell from the rafters. The night air, once serene, grew heavy with a suffocating presence.
Jiang Hao set his cup down with exaggerated care, his brows furrowing.
"...Really?"
The tremors grew into a rumble. From the northern wall of the sect, a burst of black fire erupted into the sky, splitting clouds, staining the moon red. A wave of demonic qi swept across the mountains, thick with bloodlust.
Screams pierced the night.
"Demon Sect! The Demon Sect is attacking!"
The sect's warning bells rang, their deep clang echoing across the courtyards. Disciples stumbled from their huts, clutching swords and talismans, panic etched across their faces. Elders soared into the sky, their qi blazing like stars.
The Azure Heaven Sect, so calm moments ago, was now chaos.
And Jiang Hao?
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Midnight overtime…" he muttered. "Heaven really does hold grudges."
The first waves of Demon Sect cultivators swarmed into the courtyards. Cloaked in black, their blades dripped with cursed qi, their laughter twisted and cruel. They struck down outer disciples mercilessly, reveling in blood. Flames spread from building to building, painting the sect red and black.
Amidst the chaos, a clear, commanding voice cut through the screams.
"Form ranks! Defend the sect!"
Lin Xueyao stood at the front lines, her sword gleaming like ice under moonlight. She moved with lethal grace, each strike severing demonic qi, each step unwavering. Her white robe, pristine hours ago, was already stained with ash and blood, yet her bearing remained noble, untouchable.
Outer disciples clung to her presence, following her commands despite their terror. She was their pillar, their shield against the darkness.
But even she was strained.
The Demon Sect's numbers were overwhelming, their ferocity unmatched. Every time she felled an enemy, two more took their place. Her breath quickened, her limbs heavy, but still she fought on, refusing to yield an inch.
Then, through the smoke and chaos, she caught sight of him.
A figure walking calmly down the path, robes neat, teacup still in hand. His pace was unhurried, his expression bored, as though the raging battle was nothing more than a noisy market disturbing his evening stroll.
Her sword faltered for half a heartbeat.
"Jiang Hao…" she whispered.
He reached her side without hurry, tilting his cup slightly to avoid a stray ember. "Senior Sister Lin. Busy night?"
She stared at him, aghast. "Busy? The sect is under siege!"
"Mm." He sipped his tea, glanced at the burning buildings, the dying disciples, the shrieking demons. He exhaled. "Overtime."
Before she could retort, three Demon Sect cultivators charged at them, blades howling with dark qi. Lin raised her sword, ready to intercept—
But Jiang Hao raised one finger.
The three men froze mid-leap, eyes bulging, bodies twisting grotesquely as though crushed by invisible mountains. In the next instant, they crumbled into dust, scattered into the night wind.
Lin's blade halted mid-swing. Her heart skipped. She had seen his power before, in the forest—but up close, it was suffocating. No movement, no flare of qi, no effort. Just a flick of his finger, and lives were erased.
Jiang Hao exhaled again. "Troublesome."
At the northern wall, Elder Wu Tian descended like a storm. His silver hair whipped in the wind, his blade crackling with lightning. With each strike, he felled enemies by the dozens, his voice roaring like thunder.
"Azure Heaven Sect stands! Drive them back!"
Disciples rallied behind him, emboldened by his presence. The ground quaked under his strikes, the night sky split by his blade. For a moment, hope flared.
But from the shadows emerged three figures cloaked in black flame. Their aura was suffocating, their presence heavy. Core Formation stage elders of the Demon Sect.
Wu Tian's eyes narrowed. "So, they send wolves tonight."
The clash that followed was titanic. Wu Tian's lightning against their flames, each strike splitting earth and sky. Sparks of qi scattered like falling stars, the mountain itself groaning under the pressure.
But the odds were cruel. Three against one. Their strikes were relentless, coordinated, merciless. Wu Tian's blade shone bright, but wounds opened across his body. Blood stained his robe. He staggered, yet roared defiance, striking back with everything he had.
Still, he was being overwhelmed.
And from the courtyard, Jiang Hao sipped his tea. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of emotion breaking his usual calm.
"Master always takes on too much work."
Lin turned sharply. "Elder Wu is fighting three Core Formation elders! If he falls—"
Jiang Hao set down his cup on a stone ledge. His voice was calm, almost resigned.
"Then I suppose…" He rose, his robe fluttering lightly in the wind. His eyes gleamed faintly, an aura stirring like a sleeping giant. "…I'll have to work overtime."
He stepped forward.
The night shifted.
The night seemed to hold its breath as Jiang Hao stepped forward.
The chaos of the battlefield dulled, as though sound itself bent away from him. Demonic cultivators who had been howling with bloodlust moments before stumbled, their weapons faltering, their gazes snapping toward the young man walking with lazy, unhurried steps.
His robe swayed gently in the wind. His long hair glistened faintly in the firelight. His face—calm, composed, unyieldingly handsome—was utterly unbothered, as though the smoke, flames, and screams were mere background noise to an idle evening stroll.
To many, the sight was absurd.
To a few, it was terrifying.
Lin Xueyao's chest tightened. She had fought countless battles in her years of cultivation, but there was something about Jiang Hao's presence in that moment—a serene calm amidst catastrophe—that made her throat go dry. It was not arrogance, not even confidence. It was inevitability.
A whisper rippled through the Demon Sect soldiers.
"Who… who is that?"
"No aura… I can't feel his qi!"
"Then why do my legs feel like lead…?"
At the northern wall, Elder Wu Tian staggered under the force of another clash, his blade sparking against the combined might of three Demon Sect elders. His robe was torn, his arm bleeding, his breathing ragged.
One of the Demon Elders sneered, flames coiling around his hands. "Old man Wu Tian! Tonight your Azure Heaven Sect falls! You cannot stop us!"
Wu Tian gritted his teeth, lightning crackling around his sword. His voice thundered: "Even if I fall, I'll drag you into the abyss with me!"
His blade swung, thunder roaring—
And then he froze.
Because Jiang Hao's voice drifted lazily across the battlefield, unhurried and smooth, yet carrying like a divine decree.
"Master."
Wu Tian's eyes widened, snapping toward the courtyard below. His breath caught. "Hao'er…?"
The three Demon Elders turned too, their expressions sharpening as they caught sight of the unassuming young man striding forward, hands still behind his back.
"What's this? An outer disciple?" one sneered.
Another smirked. "Not even at Foundation Establishment. Sect must be desperate, throwing lambs to wolves."
The third narrowed his eyes, uneasy. Something about that youth's gait, his eyes, the air around him—it was wrong.
Jiang Hao tilted his head, his expression one of mild annoyance rather than fury. His voice was calm, casual, but it carried through the smoke like steel.
"Master, I told you before," he said, looking up at Wu Tian. "Nine to five. That's my rule."
Wu Tian blinked, panting, blood dripping from his lips. Despite the chaos around him, a broken laugh threatened to escape his chest. Even now… even now, his disciple spoke of that absurd promise.
Jiang Hao's eyes sharpened slightly.
"But tonight… I'll make an exception."
The three Demon Elders scoffed and leapt down from the wall, landing heavily before him, their combined aura pressing down like a mountain of flame. The ground cracked, heatwaves rippling outward.
The nearest Demon Elder snarled, raising his flaming halberd. "Boy, know your place!"
He struck, flames roaring, earth splitting under the swing.
Jiang Hao did not move.
He merely lifted his hand.
The halberd froze mid-air, stopped as though an invisible hand had seized it. The elder's eyes bulged, veins standing out on his forehead as he poured strength into the strike—but it was as though the heavens themselves had decided his weapon would go no further.
Jiang Hao's eyes flicked to him, bored.
"Too noisy."
The halberd shattered into fragments, bursting like glass under pressure. Before the elder could even scream, his body twisted unnaturally, his bones snapping like brittle twigs. In the next instant, he crumbled into ash, scattered by the night wind.
Silence.
The battlefield froze. Even the cries of dying disciples faltered as eyes turned to witness the impossible.
One strike. One glance. And a Core Formation elder was no more.
Lin Xueyao's grip on her sword tightened, her heartbeat drumming against her ribs. She had known Jiang Hao was strong. But this… this was beyond reason. There had been no qi surge, no spell, no sword technique. Just a flicker of will, and a life was erased.
Wu Tian's chest swelled with conflicting emotions. Shock. Pride. Relief. Fear. He had always known his disciple carried secrets, but to erase a Core Elder like swatting a fly… just what had he taken in under his wing?
The two remaining Demon Elders staggered back, their bravado cracking.
"Impossible…" one hissed, sweat beading his brow. "No qi. No technique. What… what is he?!"
The other bared his teeth, forcing a snarl. "Don't falter! It was a trick! Together!"
They attacked in unison, one unleashing a torrent of black fire, the other summoning a tide of demonic chains that rattled like the cries of the damned. Their combined might blotted out the night sky, swallowing the courtyard in destructive fury.
Jiang Hao sighed. "Overtime always comes in pairs."
He raised his hand again, two fingers extended. He traced a lazy line through the air, as though drawing on an invisible ledger.
The black fire and chains halted mid-air. Suspended, trembling, as though trapped in amber.
Then, with a casual flick, Jiang Hao snapped his fingers.
The fire imploded, vanishing into nothing. The chains shattered into dust, each link disintegrating with a sound like breaking glass.
The two Demon Elders gasped, horror flashing across their faces.
Jiang Hao's voice was soft, almost weary. "My shift ended hours ago."
He stepped forward once. The earth cracked. His aura, long suppressed, flared—not in a roaring blaze, but like the sudden reveal of an endless abyss. A presence so vast, so unfathomable, it swallowed sound, light, and thought itself.
The two Demon Elders screamed, their knees buckling as the sheer weight of his suppressed cultivation crashed down on them. They tried to resist, pouring every drop of their demonic qi into their defenses.
But against Jiang Hao's idle presence, it was like a candle before a hurricane.
He extended his hand, palm open, and simply closed his fist.
The two men erupted into dust. Not blood, not bone—dust, scattered to the night air as though they had never existed.
Silence.
The battlefield was silent.
Every disciple, every elder, every demon cultivator froze, staring wide-eyed at the young man standing calmly amidst the ash of three Core Formation Elders.
Jiang Hao brushed his hands together, as though dusting off dirt. He turned back toward his teacup, still sitting neatly on the stone ledge, steam faintly rising. He picked it up, sipped, and exhaled contentedly.
"Cold," he muttered.
Lin Xueyao's lips parted, but no words came. Her sword trembled in her grip. Around her, the disciples of Azure Heaven Sect looked on in awe, terror, and disbelief.
Elder Wu Tian descended slowly, his sword trembling in his grip, blood still dripping from his wounds. His eyes were locked on his disciple.
"Hao'er…" His voice was hoarse, shaking. "You… you've been hiding this much power…"
Jiang Hao glanced up at him, expression calm. "Master. You taught me well. But remember my dao." He raised the cold teacup with a faint smile. "Nine to five. I won't break that rule. Tonight is… an exception."
Wu Tian's lips quivered, emotions warring in his chest. He wanted to scold him, to demand answers, to cry out at the absurdity of this youth treating the annihilation of enemies like overtime paperwork.
But instead… he laughed. Broken, breathless, but full of pride. "You damned brat…"
The Demon Sect survivors, who moments before had been howling for blood, now stumbled back in terror. Their leaders—erased. Their army—broken. Fear spread like plague. They began to flee, scrambling into the night, abandoning their dead.
The Azure Heaven Sect disciples erupted in cheers, voices raw with relief. "We're saved! The sect stands!"
Lin Xueyao finally lowered her blade, staring at Jiang Hao's back. In that calm figure, sipping his tea, she saw something both terrifying and magnetic. A man whose power was limitless… yet who refused it, hid it, lived like an ordinary mortal.
Her heart skipped, a strange warmth flickering beneath her chest.
Jiang Hao exhaled again, staring at his teacup. "…Still cold."