Creation Of All Things

The screams got louder.

A screech. A crash. Something exploded two streets down—pottery maybe. Or a cultivator's pride.

Adam kept slurping, chewing slowly, eyes half-lidded like he was watching reruns of a show he'd already memorized.

Another boom. This time, dust puffed through the alley behind him. The stall trembled.

The vendor flinched. "Senior…"

Adam raised a hand, still holding his chopsticks. "Almost done."

The vendor gulped and nodded, backing into the kitchen like it could protect him from whatever horror was making its way through town.

Then—

Fwump.

A giant white feather dropped from the sky. Landed right on Adam's bowl.

He paused. Blinked.

"...This better not be that idiot's phoenix again."

Another screech—high-pitched, echoing, way too dramatic. A blur zipped overhead, trailing golden flames and pink feathers. People screamed. A squad of disciples in matching robes chased after it, clearly outclassed and already regretting every decision that led them here.

Adam looked up.

Perched on the corner of a rooftop was a massive bird—like someone merged a peacock with a dragon, gave it attitude, and dipped it in fireworks.

Its head tilted. Eyes locked on Adam.

He sighed.

"I was literally mid-noodles."

The bird screeched, then dove—wings blazing, talons glowing, fire swirling in an obnoxious spiral like it thought it was the final boss.

Cue the dramatic anime music. The kind with too much percussion.

Adam stood up calmly. Bowl still in hand. He sipped the broth.

The bird reached him in an instant.

Everyone watching flinched.

And then—

Clink.

Chopsticks tapped the edge of the bowl. Just once.

A ripple shot out. Clear, soft, like a bell had been struck underwater.

The phoenix stopped.

Midair. Just… froze. Like someone hit pause.

Then it dropped. Completely limp.

Flop.

Right into the noodles cart beside Adam. Tail sticking out. One wing twitching like it was snoring.

Silence.

A kid from the crowd whispered, "Did he… chopstick-jutsu that thing?"

Adam turned, bowl still steaming in one hand.

"Nah," he said casually. "Just told it I'm not in the mood."

The disciples chasing the bird skidded to a halt, panting, eyes wide. One of them bowed so fast his forehead dented the pavement.

"Senior Adam! Thank you for subduing the Celestial Melody Beast!"

Adam waved lazily. "It's sleeping. Don't poke it."

Another disciple opened his mouth, probably to beg for pointers or express lifelong admiration, but Adam was already walking away.

Back toward the market. Bowl still in hand.

He passed a pair of girls trying to hide their giggles, a couple of old men pretending not to stare, and a dog who barked twice, sniffed his aura, then sat in silence.

Back on the rooftop, the elders watching all day were now standing.

One of them muttered, "He didn't even use spirit power."

Another replied, voice flat, "He didn't even stop chewing."

—

A dark mountain floating above a sea of mist. Thunder cracked behind it just because it could.

Inside, the silver-haired kid from earlier knelt in front of a low table.

"He ignored the invitation," he said.

A figure in white robes poured tea. "Expected."

"Should I… deliver another message?"

"No need," said the other, sipping slowly. "He'll come."

"How do you know?"

The tea drinker smiled. "Because he's bored."

—

Adam lounged across the roof of a bathhouse now, half-naked, hair wet, chewing on something skewered and sizzling.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the city in gold and wine-red light. Lanterns lit up like stars. Somewhere, someone played a shamisen.

And Adam?

He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Vacation, man..." he muttered.

Then paused.

"Wait. Did I pay for that noodle bowl?"

Silence.

"…Meh."

A soft breeze rustled Adam's hair as he lay there, one leg propped up, the other dangling off the roof's edge like he didn't have a care in the world. The skewer in his mouth crackled—some kind of spicy grilled beast meat, probably illegal, definitely delicious.

Below, the city slowly exhaled. Whatever chaos the phoenix caused had passed. People returned to pretending nothing happened. Merchants resumed shouting over each other, kids chased glowing beetles, and lovers shared skewers under lantern light.

Adam tilted his head. From this angle, he could see the noodle cart still smoking. The bird hadn't moved. One feather twitched.

"Still knocked out?" he muttered. "That thing's got stamina. Respect."

Then—

Tap. Tap.

He didn't move, but he knew. The soft sound of shoes on tile, careful, precise. Not the kind of steps normal people made. Someone trained. Someone stupid.

"Adam," a voice called. Female. Calm. Way too formal.

He chewed slowly. "Lemme guess. Sect girl. Top disciple. Got a sword name like 'Moon Whisper' or some sh*t."

A pause.

"…Cloud Empress Blade."

Adam opened one eye. "Close enough."

The girl stood a few steps behind him, wearing silver robes that shimmered under the setting sun. Long hair. Pretty. Annoyed. She looked like someone who hadn't smiled in years.

"You're being summoned."

He rolled the skewer in his mouth. "Cool."

"To the Heavenly Sky Domain."

He raised a brow. "That still a thing?"

She didn't answer.

He sat up halfway, arms hanging off his knees. "What if I say no?"

She didn't blink. "Then I will be forced to—"

"Nope," Adam cut in. "Already bored."

She blinked. Just once.

Adam stood, stretched like a cat, then hopped off the roof. Landed without a sound.

The girl followed.

They walked side by side now, through the narrow alleys between buildings glowing with evening light. He looked like a lazy traveler who forgot where he was going. She walked like she was escorting a prisoner.

"You know," he said casually, "when people call me 'Senior Adam,' I kinda expect gifts."

She frowned. "This isn't a bribe."

"Shame," he muttered. "I like bribes."

They turned a corner—and a giant shadow fell across them.

Above, a massive floating platform shimmered into view. A portal opened mid-air, swirling with clouds and light. Disciples lined the edges like statues. Big ones. Important ones. All of them staring down like they were watching a rare beast being brought into a cage.

Adam sighed.

"…Y'all just don't give up."

The girl nodded slightly. "They fear you'll vanish again."

He smirked. "Maybe I will. After I finish dessert."

Then, before she could react, he vanished. One second there, next second—gone. No ripple. No flash.

Just gone.

The disciples above blinked. Looked around. Muttered.

One shouted, "He—he slipped spatial binding?!"

The elders watching groaned in unison.

"Again?!" someone growled.

"Why can't we just send him a letter like a normal person?!"

Back on the street, two kids eating candied fruits paused. One of them looked to the side.

There, inside a pastry stall, behind the counter somehow, Adam was already eating something flaky and sweet. He waved at the kids like nothing happened.

"Manners," he said, licking sugar off his fingers. "Gotta say hi before you go snooping in people's vacations."

Then he turned to the stall owner, mouth full. "I'm not paying for this either."

The owner just nodded. Trembling.

"Smart," Adam said, grabbing another one.

Far above, on a mountain that wasn't there a second ago, thunder rolled.

And someone—not a man, not a god, just something—opened his eyes.

"It's started," he whispered.

Somewhere else, the phoenix twitched again.

Adam? He burped.

"Dessert hits different when you're avoiding responsibility," he muttered.

And just like that—he disappeared again.