Creation Of All Things-Chapter 119: Living His Life

They walked toward the chaos like it was nothing.

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Smoke curled into the air, spiraling high above the shattered building. People gathered around, whispering, pointing, backing away as two scorched cultivators stumbled to their feet, blood trailing from their lips.

From the ruins stepped a man in black and red robes, his long hair tied into a high knot, a jagged blade resting on his shoulder. His aura crackled with killing intent. His eyes swept the crowd—cold, sharp, like a predator searching for another fight.

He pointed the blade at one of the injured cultivators. "You dare question my clan's honor in public?"

The man coughed up blood and spat, "You cheated in the duel, you bastard!"

The crowd gasped. A few onlookers floated backward, distancing themselves before another explosion happened.

The red-robed man grinned. "You lost. Accept it."

He raised his blade again, spiritual energy flooding the air like a pressure wave. People shielded themselves, some retreating outright.

But then—

A footstep.

Just one. Calm. Steady.

Adam walked out from the crowd, hands in his pockets, eyes slightly narrowed like he was half-bored, half-amused. Wraith and Krozak stayed behind him, giving no warning.

The red-robed cultivator turned, his killing intent locking onto Adam like a beast spotting prey.

"You wanna die too?"

Adam tilted his head. "Nope. Just thought your aura was loud."

The man frowned. "What?"

"I mean, you're standing there, trying to be cool and dangerous… but you're yelling spiritually." Adam waved his hand lazily. "Kinda ruining the vibe, you know?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The red-robed man's eye twitched. "Who the hell are you?"

Adam didn't answer. He just smiled.

Wraith leaned toward Krozak, whispering, "He's gonna poke him."

"He already is," Krozak replied, arms folded.

The man snarled. "You arrogant—"

He swung his blade with a sharp motion, spirit energy slicing through the air like a wave of lightning.

And then— crack.

The attack stopped mid-air. No flash, no counterattack. Just… stopped.

Adam was still smiling, but now his fingers were slightly raised. The energy dissolved into sparkles, harmless, like it had never existed.

Silence fell.

Then, Adam looked at the man's blade. "That thing looks heavy. You sure it's not compensating for something?"

The crowd gasped again. Someone even dropped a fruit.

Wraith laughed under his breath.

The red-robed cultivator snapped. He lunged forward, blade flashing, spiritual energy erupting in all directions.

But he never reached Adam.

In a blur of light, the cultivator stopped mid-air—frozen. His feet hovered just inches from the ground, but he couldn't move. His limbs trembled. His blade shattered like glass in slow motion.

Adam hadn't moved.

He just stared at the man, one hand still in his pocket.

"See?" Adam said calmly. "Loud."

The man dropped to the ground, knees shaking, face pale.

Wraith walked up beside Adam. "Well. That escalated normally."

Krozak looked at the broken sword. "Too much flash, not enough substance."

The crowd didn't say anything. Some backed away. Some bowed, unsure of what just happened. A few cultivators watched from above, already taking notes… or maybe marking targets.

Adam yawned. "Anyway, I'm hungry. Where's the nearest food stall?"

Wraith pointed to the left. "Smell that? Spicy beast noodles."

Adam's eyes lit up. "Lead the way."

And just like that, the three of them walked off, leaving the red-robed cultivator on the ground, clutching the broken hilt of his pride, surrounded by a stunned city.

The noodle stall was tucked under a floating lantern tree, its glowing roots dangling from above like soft vines of light. The smell? Insane. Smoky, spicy, with this rich umami punch that punched harder than a Qi Condensation jab.

The vendor—a chubby old man with bushy eyebrows and no shoes—was tossing noodles in a wok that floated mid-air. Flames danced around him like they were listening to music only he could hear.

He glanced up as the trio approached, his eyes flickering with a bit too much clarity for just a noodle guy.

"You boys new here?" he asked, sliding bowls around like a street magician. "You've got that 'I just wrecked someone important and don't care' kind of vibe."

Adam slid onto one of the low stools. "He started it."

Wraith leaned on the counter. "He lost it."

Krozak sat down without a word, already sniffing the broth like a hungry beast.

The old man laughed, teeth shining like polished jade. "Well, welcome to Jiuhan. First fight's free, second one gets you watched, third one—" he pointed a chopstick at Adam, "—gets you invitations."

"Invitations?" Adam raised a brow.

"To sects. Clans. Rich weirdos who think they're immortal just 'cause they haven't died yet. They'll want to recruit you, challenge you, or marry you off to their daughters."

Wraith grinned. "You hear that? Adam's finally gonna get a fan club."

Adam stirred his noodles, eyes half-lidded. "Ugh. Hope they cook better than they fight."

Just as they started eating, a shadow fell across the stall.

A young woman floated down, dressed in violet robes embroidered with phoenix feathers. Her eyes were sharp. Cold. Beautiful, in that 'probably trained with a sword since age four' kinda way.

She looked straight at Adam. "You injured Elder Wu of the Flame Lotus Sect."

Adam slurped a noodle. "Who?"

She didn't blink. "My uncle."

Krozak paused mid-bite. "Of course he's somebody's uncle."

The woman reached behind her back and drew a slender jade flute. Energy crackled at the tip, forming symbols in the air.

"I challenge you," she said, stepping onto a floating tile of light. "To a formal duel."

Adam sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Can I finish eating first?"

"No."

He stared at her, then turned to the old man behind the stall. "To-go?"

The vendor didn't miss a beat. He packed three bowls instantly, lids sealed with a quick hand seal. "Good luck, kid."

Adam stood slowly, took his bowl, and floated into the air, level with the woman. Wraith and Krozak remained below, still eating.

"Try not to break her," Wraith called lazily.

"I make no promises," Adam replied.

They faced off in mid-air, a silent crowd forming in seconds. Cultivators lined rooftops and hovered mid-sky. This time, everyone sensed it—this wasn't gonna be a regular duel.

The woman raised her flute and played a single note.

The sky trembled. Wind swirled. Spirit energy formed massive sound waves in the shape of phoenix wings, slashing toward Adam like sonic blades.

Adam tilted his head slightly.

Then he moved.

Not fast—casual. He raised a finger, traced something in the air, and the entire attack shattered like glass on contact.

Gasps exploded around the city.

The woman froze mid-note.

Adam floated closer, close enough to see her blink.

"I don't duel for free," he said softly. "Next time, bring a reason."

And then he vanished.

Just—gone.

No flash. No noise. No teleport effect. He just wasn't there anymore.

The woman landed slowly, her hands trembling slightly, the flute lowering. She looked around. No Adam.

From below, Wraith pointed toward a noodle stall a few streets over. "He's over there. We're getting drinks."

She didn't reply.

But her heart was beating faster than it had in years.

---

Meanwhile, Adam sipped cold spirit tea and went back to eating. No one else dared interrupt.

Yet.

Because in the towers above, behind formation-shielded windows and enchanted curtains… eyes were watching.

Sect leaders. Assassin clans. Beast tamers. Treasure hunters.

All watching the man who broke a sound phoenix with a flick of his finger—and then dipped to finish his noodles.