Immortal Druid

We remained in the lobby longer than I expected, the quiet comfort of the place settling over us like a soft, persistent hand. The attendant moved with practiced grace, her sleeves flowing as she prepared the tea set before us. Every motion carried a certain deliberateness, as though she were performing rather than merely serving.

She placed the cups down one by one and began, her voice gentle yet rehearsed. “This is Silver Dew Spring, harvested from the eastern terraces just before dawn. The leaves are picked at their youngest, when the essence of the mountain still clings to them. It is said to calm the spirit, sharpen the mind, and leave a lingering sweetness upon the tongue. I… I hope it will suit your taste.” She hesitated briefly before bowing her head. “This humble one is called Deng Jun. If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Zhen Ai accepted the cup first, her movements elegant as always. She brought it to her lips and took a slow sip, her expression unreadable for a brief moment.

“I have had better,” she said plainly.

The words fell like a stone into still water.

Willow, who had fluttered down onto the table with an indignant little hop, dipped her beak into her own cup with surprising refinement. She paused, then gave a small, thoughtful tilt of her head. “It is structurally sound,” she remarked. “Balanced. A touch conservative. Lacks daring.”

Deng Jun froze.

“I… I beg your forgiveness,” she stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she bowed deeper. “This servant has failed to present something worthy. I will immediately prepare another, something more refined, more fitting—please, allow me to correct this—”

Her voice wavered toward the end, and when she raised her head, her eyes shimmered faintly.

Zhen Ai blinked. “Why are you crying?”

Willow regarded her with clinical curiosity. “Yes. Your tear ducts appear overactive. Is this a cultural response to critique?”

That only made it worse.

Deng Jun’s lips trembled, and she lowered her gaze again as though bracing herself for something far harsher than what had been said. For a moment, the atmosphere grew unbearably awkward, stretched thin like a thread about to snap.

I sighed and picked up my cup.

“This tea is good,” I said, taking another sip, slower this time. “Actually. No, it’s more than good. It’s smooth, clean, and the aftertaste lingers in a nice way. You can tell it was prepared carefully.”

Deng Jun looked up as though I had just pulled her out of drowning waters.

“R-really?” she asked, her voice small but hopeful.

“Really,” I replied. “You’ve got skill.”

Her entire face lit up, the earlier gloom vanishing so quickly it was almost comical. “Then—please, have more!” she said, already reaching for the pot and refilling my cup before I could protest.

I watched the pale liquid settle and couldn’t help but reflect. I had always thought tea was just… leaf water. Slightly flavored, mostly pointless.

I took another sip.

I muttered. “This is actually really good. I think I might get used to this.”

We lingered there for a while, the tension easing into something far more relaxed. At some point, Willow hopped closer to me, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Let us engage in a word game,” she declared. “I will begin. ‘Forest.’”

“‘Tree,’” I replied lazily.

“‘Leaf.’”

“‘Wind.’”

“‘Decay.’”

“…You always make it dark,” I said, squinting at her.

“Reality trends toward entropy,” she replied without shame.

Before I could retort, Zhen Ai’s voice cut in. “What is this?”

We both turned.

She stood near one of the pillars, a thin book in her hand that she had apparently retrieved from beneath a low table. Deng Jun’s face immediately drained of color.

“T-that shouldn’t be there!” she exclaimed, rushing forward. “Please, forgive me, that item is not meant for guests—!”

She reached for it, but Zhen Ai sidestepped effortlessly, her body swaying just enough to avoid the grasp without even looking at her.

Zhen Ai hopped lightly onto the base of the pillar, walked upwards as if defying gravity, and began flipping through the pages. “Oh my,” she murmured. “This is quite the piece of literature. Daring, too.”

“What is it?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she pushed off the pillar and drifted through the air, her body turning until she was upside down as she floated toward me, the book held out invitingly.

I stared at the pages for a second before shrugging. “I’m illiterate.”

Zhen Ai landed gracefully on a chair, completely unbothered. “Then I shall read it aloud.”

She cleared her throat, then began, her voice calm and melodic.

“‘Wo Li pressed her against the ancient tree, his breath hot against her neck as his hands traced the curve of her waist. The forest itself seemed to tremble in anticipation, leaves whispering secrets as his lips descended—’”

I spat my tea.

It went everywhere.

I coughed violently, nearly choking as I wiped my mouth, my entire body recoiling in shock. Deng Jun finally managed to snatch the book from Zhen Ai’s hands, her face a shade of red I didn’t think was naturally possible.

“I—I—I deeply apologize!” she stammered, clutching the book to her chest before dropping to her knees. “This servant deserves punishment for such an indecent oversight! Please, allow me to atone—!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I cut in quickly, waving my hands. “Just, please don’t read that out loud again. Ever.”

Honestly, I didn’t even know how to process it. It was amusing in a surreal way, but mostly it just felt… deeply strange.

“Could you give us a tour instead?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

Deng Jun looked up, relief flooding her features. “Of course! This way, please!”

Fifteen minutes later, I regretted everything.

We had passed more than twenty paintings. Every single one of them was me.

Me fighting beasts. Me standing heroically atop corpses. Me surrounded by light like some divine figure. Me brooding under a tree like I had unresolved emotional trauma.

I stared at one in particular, where I was dramatically pointing at something in the distance while a storm raged behind me.

“When did I even do that?” I muttered.

“Your tale has been interpreted artistically,” Willow said, barely containing her amusement.

“I’m in hell,” I sighed. “This is hell. I saved a few people, resurrected a handful of corpses, and now I’m trapped in a gallery of myself.”

Willow snickered openly. “Really? Is this what you call suffering from success?”

Zhen Ai, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly impressed. She stopped in front of a massive painting depicting me riding an enormous, tyrannical reptile. It was clearly an exaggerated version of my Wild Shape.

She reached out and lightly touched the surface. “This creature… it is magnificent. An intimidating and dominating figure. It reminds me of dragons, yet it possesses legs. How curious.”

“That’s a T. rex,” I said flatly. “Don’t ask.”

I sighed again, already exhausted by my own accidental fame.

Behind me, Deng Jun shifted nervously. “I… had the impression that you might not favor these displays,” she said cautiously. “I apologize if they cause you discomfort.”

I glanced back at her.

“Impression?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

We returned to the lobby and waited for a few more minutes, the quiet murmur of the place settling into a comfortable background noise. It didn’t take long before Li Ming came rushing toward us, her steps light and eager, her expression practically glowing with excitement.

“Senior Wo Li!” she called out, waving as she approached. “I was just looking for you. I want to show Sister Zhen Ai and Willow around the city. Grandma even gave me money to spend, so we can buy whatever we want!”

I raised a brow at that and glanced at the two in question. Zhen Ai looked mildly intrigued, while Willow’s eyes gleamed with unmistakable interest.

“Be careful,” I said simply. “The city’s safe, but don’t go wandering into places you shouldn’t.”

Li Ming nodded quickly. “I will! Thank you, Senior!”

Zhen Ai inclined her head slightly. “Your concern is appreciated.”

“I wish to procure books,” Willow added, her tone carrying a strange sense of gravity, as though this was a mission of utmost importance.

“Then it’s settled!” Li Ming clapped her hands together before turning abruptly toward Deng Jun, who had been standing quietly nearby. “You’re coming with us!”

“Ah—m-me?” Deng Jun blinked, clearly caught off guard.

“Yes! You know the city better than we do,” Li Ming said, already grabbing her hand and tugging her along. “Let’s go!”

And just like that, they were gone.

I stood there for a moment, watching their retreating figures until they disappeared beyond the entrance. The lobby suddenly felt a lot quieter.

“…Well,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders as I stood up. “Guess that’s my cue.”

I made my way toward the inner section of the building, eventually arriving at an office door where Li Ming just came from. I tapped against it lightly with my staff.

“Li Qing?” I called out. “I want to talk.”

“Please, come in,” her voice answered from within.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the mountain of paperwork spread across her desk. Sheets upon sheets of documents were stacked in neat, almost intimidating piles, and Li Qing sat behind them, her posture straight despite the apparent workload.

She glanced up at me and smiled faintly. “I was actually intending to speak with you as well,” she said. “It seems we are of one mind.”

That wasn’t ominous at all.

Before I could respond, she lifted a hand, and a teapot rose smoothly from the table beside her. With a subtle flow of qi, the water within began to heat, steam curling upward as the liquid stirred itself without any physical contact. The entire process was… unnecessarily flashy.

She gestured toward the seat across from her. “Please.”

I sat.

Li Qing followed soon after, lowering herself gracefully into her chair as the tea poured itself into two cups. One drifted toward me, settling neatly within reach.

“How has my granddaughter been faring?” she asked casually. “And Guo Yimu as well. That boy tends to… be misunderstood. However, he means well.”

“They’re doing well,” I replied, picking up the cup. “They’ve been cultivating diligently, and they handle errands without much issue. Though Guo Yimu does try to run away from them whenever he thinks he can get away with it.”

Li Qing chuckled softly. “That does sound like him.”

I took a sip of the tea.

“…This is a hundred times better than Deng Jun’s,” I said honestly.

Li Qing’s smile deepened, just slightly. “I will take that as a compliment.”

I set the cup down, letting the warmth settle before getting to the point.

“Do you know anything about a place called the Heavenly Domain Sect?” I asked. “Or the Sea Dragon Palace?”

Li Qing tapped her finger lightly against the rim of her cup, her expression turning thoughtful. “The Heavenly Domain Sect… no, I cannot say that I have heard of it.” She paused briefly before continuing. “However, the Sea Dragon Palace is quite well known. It is a powerful force that resides upon the ocean. In ancient times, it was said that they ruled over the seven seas.”

That alone was enough to tell me I was asking the right person.

I leaned back slightly, considering my next words. For the longest time, I had avoided this. Information meant involvement, and involvement meant responsibility. I had wanted none of that in the past.

But things had changed.

If there was an imbalance, if there were forces tipping the scales too far in one direction, then I couldn’t just pretend not to see it anymore.

“I want to ask for a favor,” I said finally. “Your organization… I have a feeling it knows a lot. I want access to that knowledge. The power structures of this world, how people live, the continents, history, and everything you can share.”

Li Qing didn’t answer immediately.

She lifted her cup and took a slow sip, her gaze studying me over the rim. When she set it down, her expression carried a quiet curiosity.

“Why?” she asked. “You have gone to great lengths to isolate yourself. And yet now, you seek to understand everything.” She tilted her head slightly. “There are many things about you I find… curious. Suspicious, even. You are a foreigner to this domain, perhaps to these lands entirely. That alone warrants caution.”

I met her gaze evenly.

“If I’m that doubtful and unstable,” I said, “then why did you ask me to take care of your granddaughter? Just think of this like this. I took her in as a favor for you. This is just you repaying that favor. That way, this makes it fair.”

Li Qing’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in hostility, but in contemplation.

I shrugged. “If you don’t want to share your organization’s knowledge, that’s fine. I won’t force it. I can always call in that favor some other way.”

It would leave a bad taste in my mouth, sure, but I wasn’t desperate.

Still, I preferred that she agree.

Li Qing regarded me for a long moment before exhaling softly. “Very well,” she said. “I will grant your request… on one condition.”

I raised a brow. “Of course there is.”

She smiled faintly.

“You will join my organization,” she said. “The Willow Order.”