Moonlight spilled across the Azure Heaven Sect, illuminating rooftops and courtyards in silver. The night was quiet, deceptively serene, yet beneath the stillness, subtle tremors of energy pulsed like invisible currents. Jiang Hao had sensed them before anyone else—the quiet, patient probing of the Demon Sect.
He sipped from his tea, calm, composed, letting the warmth linger in his hands. Nine-to-five… always nine-to-five. Even tonight, the simple rule governed him, yet every movement he made carried hidden precision, every breath calibrated to detect the faintest disturbance.
High atop the western watchtower, Elder Zhou's eyes narrowed as a shadow moved at the edge of the sect. Someone… or something, he thought, sensing qi that should not exist so near. Alarm rippled through the perimeter guards.
Yet Jiang Hao, sitting quietly on the rooftop, had already seen it, traced it, and measured it.
Testing again… bold this time, he murmured softly.
Beyond the walls, the Demon Sect's three operatives moved with careful coordination. Their previous subtle attempts had failed. Now, they planned a more direct intrusion: a coordinated strike to pressure the sect and force Jiang Hao into revealing his power.
The tallest operative whispered, "He nullified all previous attempts without moving. Tonight, we escalate. Small chaos, controlled, but direct. Force him to act."
The youngest, visibly nervous, muttered, "And if he strikes back?"
The leader's crimson eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "Then we learn. And perhaps… we record the hidden strength of a true immortal. Patience ends here."
A low wind rustled through the Mistveil Forest, carrying faint echoes of intent.
Inside the sect, Lin Xueyao trained with increased intensity. Every muscle coiled, every movement precise. Her senses had caught the subtle ripples of Demon Sect interference, and her mind raced with anticipation.
He is aware… she thought, gripping her sword. And he will respond. But how…?
From her vantage point, she saw Jiang Hao rise, cup of tea in hand, walking leisurely toward the central courtyard. He paused, tilting his head, gaze sweeping the perimeters with effortless calm.
Li Ming and his group were still scattered across the courtyard, subdued by previous subtle interventions, their pride battered, their confidence shaken. Yet now, emboldened by whispers among outer disciples, they were tempted to act again.
A tremor in the ground—a faint ripple—halted them instantly. Jiang Hao's voice drifted softly, barely audible yet carrying weight enough to still their movements:
"Overtime is forbidden."
Every muscle in Li Ming's body stiffened. Even the faintest impulse to act froze.
Patience. Observation. Lesson delivered without a single strike, an elder murmured from nearby, watching silently.
Beyond the walls, the Demon Sect operatives executed the next stage of their plan. Small illusions coalesced, subtle misdirection created confusion among the outer disciples, and carefully concealed bursts of qi nudged small fires along the outer gardens.
All designed to provoke Jiang Hao's reaction.
Yet he moved calmly among the disciples, adjusting a fallen leaf here, straightening a lantern there. His awareness extended to every ripple of qi, every whisper of fear, every heartbeat within the courtyard.
Then, a subtle motion—so faint it might have been mistaken for a gust of wind—passed through the Demon Sect operatives.
The tallest operative froze mid-step. His chest tightened as if invisible fingers pressed against him. The second stumbled as the air thickened around him. The third's illusion collapsed completely, dissipating like smoke.
Jiang Hao's gaze lifted lazily, eyes catching the faint shimmer of their presence at the forest edge. He didn't move toward them, didn't strike. He simply extended his awareness.
Overtime is forbidden, he whispered softly, almost teasingly.
Li Ming and his companions could barely breathe. Their muscles resisted any movement, hearts hammering in panic. Jiang Hao walked past them as if inspecting the courtyard, faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Discipline without action, one elder murmured under his breath. He punishes without striking, teaches without lecturing… terrifyingly calm.
Lin Xueyao, still poised with sword in hand, felt the pressure of his presence even from her distance. Her breath caught in her throat as subtle tremors of his hidden strength brushed against her awareness.
How… how can someone so strong remain so calm? she thought, awe and fear mingling.
Jiang Hao returned to his rooftop afterward, tea in hand, eyes tracing the moonlight on the peaks. He exhaled softly, letting the tension of the night drift past him.
They will learn patience… eventually.
The Demon Sect operatives withdrew slightly into the forest, shaken.
"He… neutralized us again," whispered the youngest.
The eldest nodded grimly. "He does not even move, and yet we are defeated before striking. What is he…?"
The leader's crimson eyes gleamed, cold and calculating. "Patience only lasts so long. Tomorrow, escalation continues. He will be forced to act, and then… we will see the full depth of his hidden strength."
A low wind swept through the forest, rustling leaves like whispered warnings.
Back in the sect, Jiang Hao sipped tea, calm and composed, eyes drifting to Lin Xueyao, who observed silently, awe written across her face. Li Ming lay humbled in the courtyard below, unable to move or protest.
Nine-to-five. No overtime. Even when Heaven tests me… even when demons probe… Jiang Hao murmured softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
And in the quiet night, the subtle storm became undeniable. Forces within and beyond the sect were converging, preparing for a confrontation Jiang Hao had already measured, already calculated, and already contained—though not yet revealed.
Patience… always patience, he whispered, sipping his tea under the moonlit sky
The moon hung high over the Azure Heaven Sect, silver light spilling across rooftops and courtyards. A faint wind carried the scent of pine and dew, yet the peace of the night was a fragile illusion.
From the edge of the Mistveil Forest, faint movements stirred. The Demon Sect operatives, confident in their carefully coordinated plan, advanced in near-perfect synchronization. Their objective was no longer subtle probing—they would force a confrontation and measure the full extent of Jiang Hao's strength.
The tallest operative whispered, "This time, no hesitation. We strike directly. Nothing subtle—force him to act."
The leader's crimson eyes gleamed. "Good. Observe carefully. We need to record every movement. If he refuses to act, we escalate further. And if he moves… then we will finally see the truth of his hidden strength."
The youngest operative swallowed hard. "Direct… and dangerous… are we ready?"
"Ready," the leader said quietly. "Tonight, patience ends."
Inside the sect, Jiang Hao continued his nightly routine. Tea steaming beside him, he walked leisurely through the garden, adjusting a fallen leaf here, inspecting a drooping herb there. His calm movements belied the full awareness he held—every subtle ripple of qi in the courtyard, every whisper from the forest, every heartbeat of his disciples, lay measured under his gaze.
So bold… they have escalated, he thought softly. Very well. Nine-to-five… even tonight.
Li Ming, still trembling from earlier lessons in humility, paced the courtyard with his companions. They were unsettled by the growing disturbances but dared not act rashly.
Lin Xueyao, poised near the eastern pavilion, felt the unmistakable weight of hidden power pressing against her awareness. Her pulse quickened, and her grip tightened on her sword. Something significant is coming… she thought.
The Demon Sect operatives moved into position. Hidden among shadows, they triggered faint energy disturbances along the outer walls—stones shifting, lanterns swaying, small bursts of illusory shadows dancing across the courtyard. Subtle, but coordinated.
For the first time, Jiang Hao rose fully, his movements measured and unhurried. He lifted a hand lazily, and the disturbances slowed as if caught in invisible currents. The illusions trembled, dissipating in the air, while the lanterns stopped swaying mid-motion.
The operatives froze, muscles stiffened, hearts pounding. He does not even move… and yet…
"Overtime is not permitted," Jiang Hao's voice drifted softly, calm and deliberate. The words carried weight beyond sound, subtle enough to paralyze the intruders' motions, but gentle enough that the sect's disciples barely noticed.
Li Ming and his group felt their hearts hammer as their bodies resisted any movement. Every instinct to intervene was checked, restrained by invisible forces. Even their breaths seemed held in place.
Jiang Hao walked among them leisurely, as if inspecting the courtyard. He adjusted a fallen leaf here, nudged a teacup there, and finally returned to his rooftop, tea in hand, eyes scanning the distant forest where the intruders hid.
Patience… always patience, he murmured. Nine-to-five. That is all that is required.
Lin Xueyao's chest heaved subtly. She had never sensed power like this—hidden, restrained, yet terrifyingly absolute. Even without direct combat, she understood the immensity of what lay beneath Jiang Hao's calm demeanor.
How… how can someone so powerful be so… lazy? she thought, awe and disbelief mixing in her gaze.
Beyond the walls, the Demon Sect operatives reassessed. Every illusion nullified, every disruption countered without visible motion. Their leader's crimson eyes narrowed.
"He… he moves without moving," the eldest operative whispered, voice trembling.
"Impossible…" the youngest said, swallowing hard.
The leader's eyes gleamed. "Patience ends soon. Tomorrow, the next stage begins. If he refuses action, we escalate further. And then… we will finally see the full depth of his immortal strength."
The wind swept through the forest, rustling leaves like whispered omens. Even from their distant vantage, the operatives could feel the subtle power pressing against their consciousness—a calm, infinite weight that made hesitation unavoidable.
Inside the sect, Jiang Hao returned to his rooftop, settling cross-legged with his tea. He gazed at the moonlight reflecting on the peaks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Li Ming lay humiliated in the courtyard below, outer disciples whispering in awe and fear. Lin Xueyao's eyes remained fixed on him, curiosity and admiration mingling in her gaze.
Let them come, Jiang Hao murmured softly, a faint curl of his lips. Even Heaven cannot force me into overtime.
The subtle storm that had been building for days had transformed into a tangible tension. Forces within the sect and beyond its walls were converging. And Jiang Hao—ever calm, ever lazy, ever untouchable—remained poised, patient, and unshaken.
Patience… always patience, he whispered, sipping his tea under the silver moonlight.