The cries of battle faded, replaced by the groans of the wounded and the crackle of flames consuming broken wood. The night air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke, yet a strange calm settled over the Azure Heaven Sect.
The Demon Sect had fled. Their corpses littered the courtyards. Their flames sputtered under hurried water talismans. The once-pristine mountain paths were scarred and blackened, but the sect still stood.
And at the heart of it all sat Jiang Hao, sipping the last dregs of his cooled tea.
Lin Xueyao stared at him as though seeing a stranger. His profile in the firelight was sharp, his expression detached, unconcerned. If not for the ash drifting where three Core Formation elders once stood, she might have convinced herself she had imagined it all.
But no. The truth was undeniable.
This man—this quiet, lazy junior who insisted on treating cultivation like a job with fixed hours—had revealed power so vast that even seasoned elders would tremble before it.
Her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword unconsciously. It felt heavy, almost laughably insignificant compared to the force she had witnessed.
"Jiang Hao…" she whispered, though he made no sign of hearing her.
Elder Wu Tian's boots crunched against scorched earth as he approached, his breathing labored, wounds staining his robe crimson. Even in his battered state, his presence commanded attention. Disciples parted instinctively, bowing as he passed.
Yet his eyes were fixed only on one figure.
His disciple.
"Hao'er," Wu Tian said quietly when he finally reached him.
Jiang Hao looked up lazily, tilting his cup as though hoping for one last drop. "Mm. Master. You should be resting. Your arm is bleeding."
Wu Tian's lips tightened. Blood still dripped from his sleeve, yet that wasn't what burned in his chest. He crouched slightly, lowering himself to meet his disciple's eyes.
"You erased three Core Formation elders as though they were nothing. Nothing." His voice was low, hushed, but every word was heavy. "How long have you carried this strength?"
Jiang Hao swirled the empty cup idly. "A while."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you'll get." Jiang Hao's eyes flicked upward, steady, calm, unflinching. "Master, you always told me: a cultivator must walk his own dao. Mine is nine to five. If I show my hand too often, heaven will notice. Tribulation will follow. And I…" He set the cup down gently. "…I'm tired of overtime."
Wu Tian's throat tightened. His instincts screamed to demand the truth, to shake the answers out of this boy. But another part of him—the part that had raised Jiang Hao like his own blood—recognized the steel in those words.
This was his disciple's path. His dao.
Wu Tian closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. "Very well." He placed a hand, rough and warm, on Jiang Hao's shoulder. "But remember this: you are not alone. Whatever burdens you carry, you carry them with us."
For the first time that night, Jiang Hao's gaze softened. He gave the faintest of nods.
Across the courtyard, disciples tended to the wounded. Some looked toward Jiang Hao with awe, others with fear. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"He killed them with a glance…"
"No qi at all, I swear it! Just… dust!"
"Is he even human…?"
Lin Xueyao silenced the murmurs with a single cold glare, though her own thoughts were far less composed.
She stepped forward, her robe dragging ash across the ground. When she stopped before Jiang Hao, her lips parted, but no words came. How could she possibly voice the storm inside her? Gratitude for saving them. Fear of his unfathomable strength. Confusion at his indifference.
Finally, she forced out a sentence, her voice softer than she intended.
"You… saved us all tonight."
Jiang Hao lifted his gaze toward her, expression unreadable. "I clocked out at sunset. It was Master who fought until he bled. I only… filled in the gaps."
Her brows furrowed. "You call annihilating three Core Formation elders… filling in the gaps?"
He shrugged lightly. "Overtime paperwork."
Lin Xueyao stared at him, exasperated. And yet, beneath her frustration, her heart skipped at the sight of his calm, almost playful detachment. His words were absurd, but his actions undeniable. A man like this—so strong, so restrained, so… untouchable—was dangerous in ways she had no defense against.
She turned sharply before her thoughts betrayed her. "Hmph."
But her ears burned red beneath the moonlight.
Far from the sect, at the base of the mountain, ragged figures knelt in the forest shadows. The few Demon Sect survivors who had fled panted, their robes torn, their eyes wide with terror.
One of them clutched a jade slip, blood dripping down his arm as he infused it with trembling qi.
"We… we report… Azure Heaven Sect has a monster," he hissed into the slip. "One youth… no aura, no cultivation revealed… but erased three elders effortlessly. He must not be provoked. Must not—"
The jade slip pulsed. A cold, distorted voice emerged from within.
"Describe him."
The survivor swallowed hard, his teeth chattering. "Black hair. Calm face. Handsome. Too handsome. He—he looked bored while killing them, like…" The man's voice cracked. "…like it was nothing to him."
Silence.
Then the voice from the slip chuckled, low and chilling.
"So. He reveals himself at last."
The survivor shuddered. "M-Master, what should we—"
The jade slip shattered in his hands. The survivor froze, eyes wide, before collapsing lifelessly to the dirt.
The remaining survivors fell silent, dread washing over them.
Somewhere in the darkness, a greater shadow stirred.
Back at Azure Heaven Sect, dawn finally began to break, painting the sky with the first pale strokes of light. The fires had been quenched. The wounded tended. The dead honored.
Disciples dozed in exhaustion where they stood, relief mingling with grief.
And Jiang Hao?
He sat back at his little wooden table in his hut, a fresh pot of tea steaming before him. His robe was unruffled, his posture relaxed. The world outside could burn or heal—it mattered little. His shift would start again at sunrise.
As he sipped, his gaze drifted to the distant mountain peaks.
"I said no overtime," he murmured to himself.
Yet despite his calm words, something deep within his eyes flickered—a glimmer of unease. For the first time in years, he had lifted a hand. Revealed more than he wished. And in doing so, he knew…
Heaven was watching.
Morning came gently, as if the heavens themselves wished to soothe the sect's wounds. Golden sunlight spilled across the peaks, touching charred wood and cracked tiles with warmth that seemed almost merciful. The Azure Heaven Sect still stood, but scars of the night were carved into every courtyard and every heart.
Disciples moved quietly, sweeping ash, repairing walls, tending to bandaged comrades. Their exhaustion was heavy, yet relief softened their shoulders. They whispered among themselves, voices carrying awe and disbelief.
"Three Core Elders… gone, just like that…"
"I swear, I didn't even see him move."
"They say he's an outer disciple, but… that can't be true, right?"
Whenever Jiang Hao's name was spoken, it was in hushed tones, as though uttering it too loudly might summon something beyond comprehension.
And where was Jiang Hao himself?
Sitting outside his hut with a broom in hand, sweeping broken roof tiles into a neat pile. His robe was clean, his hair freshly tied. To anyone passing by, he looked like nothing more than a conscientious junior tending to chores.
Lin Xueyao watched from a distance, her arms folded, her lips pressed in a thin line. She had not slept. Images of the night lingered behind her eyes: the way his finger had reduced enemies to dust, the oppressive weight of his hidden aura, the maddening casualness with which he dismissed it all.
A part of her wanted to storm over, demand answers, force him to admit the truth. Another part… wanted to watch quietly, to unravel him slowly, thread by thread.
Her chest tightened at the thought. She scowled. "Nonsense," she muttered, turning away, though her gaze betrayed her, drawn back to him again and again.
Inside the Sect's grand hall, Elder Wu Tian stood before the Sect Master, robes newly bound, wounds freshly treated. Despite his battered state, his eyes burned with fervor.
The Sect Master, a stately figure draped in azure silk, leaned back on his seat, fingers tapping the armrest. His expression was calm, but his eyes held sharp interest.
"You say," the Sect Master spoke slowly, "that one disciple erased three Core Formation elders… without so much as raising his voice."
Wu Tian bowed deeply. "Yes, Sect Master. That disciple is Jiang Hao, my own pupil. He has always concealed his strength. Even I… even I knew only fragments of his power."
"And now he has revealed it," the Sect Master murmured. His gaze sharpened. "Do you understand what that means?"
Wu Tian's fists clenched at his sides. "It means Heaven will notice. It means the Demon Sect will not rest. It means…" His voice broke slightly, but he forced it steady. "It means he walks a dangerous path."
The Sect Master studied him. "And what do you intend to do?"
Wu Tian lifted his head, fire in his eyes. "What I have always done. Protect him. Guide him. If Heaven itself descends, then I will shield him until my last breath."
For a long moment, silence filled the hall.
Then, unexpectedly, the Sect Master's lips curved faintly. "Your devotion is noted. See that your disciple remembers discretion. The world is not yet ready for a man like him."
Wu Tian bowed again, relief and worry warring in his heart.
Later that day, as disciples worked to restore the sect's walls, Jiang Hao was found perched on the rooftop of his hut, sipping tea as though nothing had happened.
Wu Tian approached, his steps heavy. He looked up at his disciple, sunlight catching in his silver hair.
"Hao'er."
Jiang Hao glanced down, blinking lazily. "Master. You should be resting. You bled half the courtyard last night."
Wu Tian's lips twitched despite himself. "And you… you erased three Core Elders as though dusting shelves."
Jiang Hao tilted his head. "Messy shelves. Someone had to clean them."
Wu Tian sighed, climbing up onto the roof beside him. For a moment, they sat in silence, overlooking the mountain peaks.
Finally, Wu Tian spoke softly. "You cannot keep this up forever, Hao'er. Sooner or later, eyes sharper than mine will notice. And when they do…" His hand clenched into a fist. "…Heaven's tribulation may descend."
Jiang Hao swirled his teacup thoughtfully. His voice was quiet, almost wistful. "Then I'll seal it again. If Heaven insists on dragging me into its game, I'll refuse the invitation. I only want my hours. Nine to five. No more."
Wu Tian turned to him sharply. "And if Heaven refuses to let you live so simply?"
Jiang Hao looked at him then, his eyes calm but firm. "Then I'll make Heaven clock out."
Wu Tian's breath caught. He stared at his disciple, both horrified and proud. He opened his mouth, but words failed him. In the end, he only exhaled, shaking his head. "You damned child…"
Meanwhile, in the sect library, Lin Xueyao walked between rows of scrolls, her fingers trailing absentmindedly across spines. Her thoughts were a storm.
She recalled the terror in the Demon Sect elders' eyes. The way Jiang Hao's power bent reality itself. The casual boredom in his voice as he dismissed life-and-death battles as "paperwork."
Her pride bristled. She had trained for years, bled for strength, carved her path with relentless effort. Yet this man—this junior, this "lazy" disciple—held power that dwarfed her own like a candle against the sun.
And yet…
Her chest tightened again. That calm face, untouched by arrogance. That unshakable poise. That maddening charm of a man who acted as though the world was beneath his notice.
Lin Xueyao pressed a hand to her chest, scowling at herself. "No. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous."
But her reflection in the polished bronze mirror at the end of the aisle betrayed her. Her ears were faintly red.
Far beyond the Azure Heaven Sect, deep within a cavern veiled in black mist, a throne of bones sat atop a dais of skulls.
Upon it lounged a figure cloaked in endless shadow, his eyes twin embers of crimson flame. His presence was suffocating, his voice a velvet snarl.
"So," he murmured, fingers tapping the skull beneath his hand. "The Azure Heaven Sect hides a monster."
Before him knelt the trembling remnants of the Demon Sect strike force. Their heads bowed, their bodies quivering.
"We… we swear it, Master. One man. He erased them as though they were insects."
The figure's smile was thin, sharp. "Good. Very good."
His eyes narrowed, gleaming with hunger. "A hidden immortal… a youth who dares defy Heaven's will. Bring me his name."
The survivors bowed lower. "J-Jiang Hao, Master."
The cavern quaked as the figure's laughter echoed, deep and cruel.
"Jiang Hao…" His voice lingered on the name like a promise. "If you wish to play mortal, then I will play with you. But when the game ends… I will see your true face."
The cavern's shadows writhed, whispering with malice. A storm was coming.
Back at the sect, Jiang Hao finished his tea, leaned back on the roof tiles, and closed his eyes against the sunlight. His voice drifted lazily on the breeze.
"Another day's work done."
He smiled faintly, though a flicker of unease still lingered in his chest. Somewhere above the clouds, he could almost feel it—Heaven's gaze, sharp and watchful.
And yet, he murmured again, firm and calm:
"No overtime."
The wind carried his words into the sky, defiant and serene.