Immortal Druid

I didn’t even need time to think about it.

“I refuse,” I said plainly. “I don’t even know what the Willow Order stands for from your ideals, your philosophy, or what you truly do behind all of this. You’re asking me to tie myself to something I don’t understand. That’s not happening.”

I stood up, staff in hand, choosing my next words with more care than I usually bothered with. This wasn’t something I could just brush off with a joke or deflect with indifference.

“I’m not a saint,” I continued. “I found peace in that forest. In this life. And I don’t think I can just give that up. I want to be happy. It just so happens that the kind of happiness I want… doesn’t involve being dragged through the chaos of this world. I want balance. My balance. Somewhere in the middle. Not isolation, not entanglement. Just... enough. To be honest, I don’t think highly of cultivators. The way you all live and the way power warps everything? It feels… unnatural. Ruthless. Like the world itself has been bent out of shape to accommodate something that shouldn’t exist in the first place.”

Her expression didn’t change, but I could feel the weight of the room shift slightly.

“If I said I wanted all cultivation gone,” I continued evenly, “how would your Willow Order see me?”

Silence followed.

I shook my head lightly. “I’m not saying I’d actually do it. I’m not that delusional. Trying to erase cultivation would drown this world in blood, and the ones who’d suffer most wouldn’t be you or me. It’d be the mortals. And in the end, they’d probably turn to cultivation themselves just to survive, just to have some control over their fate.”

I exhaled softly.

“That was just an example,” I added. “A difference in ideals big enough to divide us completely. So instead of joining you, I’d rather we keep this simple. A cooperative relationship. Equal standing. No chains, no obligations beyond mutual benefit.”

If I were going to move forward, then I needed to understand others too, like mortals, cultivators, and everyone in between.

Li Qing closed her eyes briefly, then let out a quiet sigh.

“…Very well,” she said at last. “We can agree to that.” She opened her eyes again, her gaze steady. “The Willow Order will share with you what knowledge we deem harmless for you to know. As for the matter of the Dark Order, we have found nothing conclusive. However, I am certain they are present on this continent. They have been operating for a very long time.”

Her fingers rested lightly against the cup.

“My village. My Order,” she went on, her tone quieter now, “we are at one of our lowest points in strength. Your cooperation… is appreciated.”

I nodded slightly, taking that in.

After a moment of hesitation, I asked the question that had been lingering in the back of my mind for a while now.

“What do you know about the corrupted seeds?”

Li Qing didn’t even pause this time.

“I cannot tell you anything about them.”

I frowned slightly. “Then the Shén?”

Her gaze sharpened just a fraction. “There is also nothing I can tell you about them.”

Of course.

She leaned back slightly, her words almost like begging. “If you wish to know more, you must join the Willow Order.”

I shook my head immediately. “No thanks.”

I could’ve played along. Joined them, learned what I needed, then walked away. But that kind of move… it left a sour taste in my mouth just thinking about it. And I had a feeling they wouldn’t take it lightly either.

So I stayed honest.

“Those seeds,” I said, my tone hardening slightly, “anyone who uses them, I’ll purge them.”

Li Qing nodded without hesitation. “We consider those seeds to be evil as well. If we encounter someone abusing them, we will act no differently.”

That was reassuring.

She studied me for a moment before asking, “And the Shén? Based on what little you know, what do you think of them?”

I leaned back slightly, thinking it through. I knew enough to understand one thing. The Dark Order wanted them badly. Alive or dead, it didn’t matter. That alone said a lot. But when I thought about it…

“All I see is a young girl who wants to pursue immortality the peaceful way. Nothing more.”

Li Ming’s face came to mind.

“I’ve watched over her for a while now,” I continued. “And if you ask me what an ideal cultivator looks like, It’s someone like your granddaughter. Or maybe, Xing Ning. Of course, I can’t really say all of this with confidence. After all, power changes people.”

Heck, I wasn’t the same person when I arrived in this world. Even I could see the way the power I wield had changed me for better or worse. The rest of the conversation had been harmless. We ended up talking for hours. What started as a negotiation slowly unraveled into something far more mundane, such as arguments over city management, policies, and the strange quirks of human behavior. It was oddly… normal.

“The paintings stay,” Li Qing said firmly, not even entertaining the discussion anymore.

I rubbed my temple. “You’ve got an entire gallery of me striking poses I’ve never struck in my life. One of them has me pointing at the sky like I’m about to declare war on the heavens.”

“Artistic interpretation,” she replied without a hint of shame.

“…Right. Then at least get rid of the erotic stuff.”

She paused.

Then, to my surprise, she sighed. “That… can be arranged. It was never officially sanctioned to begin with.”

“Good,” I muttered. “Because I am not dealing with that again.”

From there, the conversation drifted more easily. Tea was poured, cups refilled, and somewhere along the way, the tension from earlier had completely faded.

I leaned back slightly, cradling the cup in my hand. “How’s the old man doing? Guo Yupin from the Serenity Cliff Sect. I honestly have lots to complain about him, especially regarding his grandson. Guo Yimu is a riot, honestly.”

Li Qing’s lips curved faintly. “He is currently undergoing training under several masters of the Willow Order. From what I’ve heard… he is cultivating like a madman.”

“That sounds about right,” I said with a small snort. “Good for him.”

We shared a brief chuckle, and for a moment, it felt less like a negotiation between two uncertain allies and more like a casual conversation between acquaintances.

I took another sip before asking, “Any news from the Steel Mountain Domain?”

Li Qing set her cup down gently. “The conflict between the Stone Spire Sect and the Steel Sky Sect has been intense,” she said. “However, it seems a peace treaty is currently in the works. The two young masters of each sect have come to an agreement. They believe the bloodshed must come to an end.”

I felt something in my chest ease slightly.

Li Qing’s expression softened just a touch. “Xing Ning, in particular, has been advocating strongly for peace. He has made remarkable progress in pushing both sides toward resolution.”

I couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips.

“That sounds like him,” I said quietly.

“Indeed,” Li Qing agreed. “As for the other party. The young scion of the Stone Spire Sect. Xu Lei. He has been making great strides in ending a fight that would’ve probably been avoided if they just talked it out.”

The familiar name hit me differently. I felt relief. So, he had chosen this path. I exhaled slowly. It seemed sparing that young man back then had paid off. Though, there was no particular guarantee or proof that sparing him then had anything to do with the situation right now.

Li Qing’s gaze lingered on me. “What is your relationship with Xu Lei?” she asked. “You seemed… relieved.”

I scratched the back of my head lightly. “It’s a bit complicated. I saved someone from the Steel Sky Sect. He goes by Kang Wen. In the process, I ended up killing Xu Lei as a show of power through violence. And then I resurrected him.”

A flicker of genuine confusion passed through Li Qing’s eyes, followed by something more restrained.

“…You speak of such things far too casually,” Li Qing said after a moment. “Resurrection is not a trivial matter. While such an act speaks of your… capabilities, it can just as easily become a source of fear. Consequences exist everywhere. Even good deeds can lead to unintended outcomes. You may save a life… and in doing so, disrupt something far greater.”

I leaned back slightly, her words settling heavier than I expected.

For some reason, I was reminded of some distant idea about how every action carried a reaction of equal weight.

Balance.

Always balance.

“…I’ll keep that in mind,” I said finally.

The conversation lingered a bit longer after that, but eventually, I stood up.

“I’ll be going,” I said. “We’ll talk another time.”

Li Qing inclined her head. “I look forward to it.”

I left her office and made my way back through the building, eventually finding Zhen Ai, Willow, and Li Ming again. The next few days passed in a blur. We stayed in the city, taking in everything it had to offer. Markets, food, wandering streets that twisted and turned with life. It was… lively.

Well, it might be too lively.

Apparently, I had become something of a celebrity.

Everywhere I went, people stared. Some whispered. Others pointed. A few even tried to approach, only to be gently but firmly redirected by the guards who had, for some reason, decided to stick to me like I was a high-maintenance guest.

It was suffocating.

“I regret everything,” I muttered at one point as yet another passerby tried to sneak a closer look.

“You are experiencing the consequences of your popularity,” Willow said, entirely unhelpful.

Zhen Ai, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy the attention far more than I did.

Eventually, I had had enough.

“I’m leaving,” I announced one morning.

Li Ming looked at me, then hesitated. “Can I… stay a bit longer?” she asked. “I want to spend more time with Grandma.”

I nodded without hesitation. “Of course. You should.”

Li Ming deserved that much. Moreover, it wasn’t like she’d be in immediate danger here. Leafhome was probably one of the safest places on the continent for her right now. Besides, my camp wasn’t far. I could always come back.

“So, anyone coming with me home?” I asked.

Zhen Ai and Willow followed.

The moment we stepped into the city square, Zhen Ai shed her human guise and revealed her true form, scales unfurling like living jade beneath the sun. Her massive body coiled into the air, each movement deliberate, commanding, as though the sky itself bent to accommodate her presence. Without a word, she lowered her head, and I stepped onto her forehead, settling between the ridges of her horns as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

From that height, I looked down at the statue.

It stood tall, carved in my likeness, immortalized in stone with a kind of reverence I neither asked for nor understood. I searched for a reaction within myself from pride, discomfort, and disbelief, but found nothing of substance. It was just another consequence. Another ripple from choices I had made without fully grasping how far they would spread.

“I suppose this is what consequence looks like,” I muttered under my breath.

Zhen Ai surged upward with a burst of qi, the air cracking beneath us as we shot into the sky. Leafhome City shrank rapidly, its noise and color dissolving into a distant blur. Willow kept pace beside us, her small owl form deceptively calm against the roaring wind.

It had been worth it.

A simple promise was all I had secured, but that promise carried weight. Access to knowledge about this world was no small gain. Back when I played Legacy World Online, I had always gravitated toward the quiet side of things. Not raids, not competition, but exploration. Lore. The hidden threads that gave meaning to everything else.

This world felt no different.

History, culture, forgotten truths buried beneath thousands of years. I wanted all of it. The Willow Order’s archives alone could probably keep me occupied for years, and for once, that thought didn’t feel like an exaggeration.

By the time we approached the forest, the air had grown cooler, heavier with the scent of earth and life. My camp came into view soon after, a small clearing nestled within the embrace of dense trees. Thorny vines surrounded it, layered thick from repeated castings of Thorn Whip, forming a natural barrier against beasts and unwelcome visitors.

At least, that was how I left it.

My eyes narrowed.

The clearing was flooded.

Water spread across the ground in unnatural stillness, reflecting the sky like a warped mirror. The guesthouse, Xing Ning’s workshop, had been reduced to broken timber and scattered debris. Only my treehouse stood relatively intact, though even that felt less like resilience and more like neglect.

Zhen Ai slowed, hovering above the devastation.

I frowned.

“Wild Shape: Eagle.”

The transformation came easily. My body twisted, reshaped, and I shot downward through the air in a controlled dive. Just before impact, I shifted back, boots splashing lightly against the soaked ground.

“Guo Yimu!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the silence. “Where are you?”

For a moment, nothing answered.

Then a figure emerged from my treehouse, a bald head catching the light as he stepped into view.

“I’m here, senior,” he called.

Relief loosened something in my chest.

I exhaled, steadying myself. “What happened?”

Behind me, Zhen Ai descended and returned to her human form without ceremony, bare skin exposed to the damp air as though she did not even register it. Her gaze swept across the clearing, sharp and calculating, before her expression tightened.

“This place is saturated with violent water qi,” she said, her voice low. “Not just any disturbance. This… this is the work of a dragon.”

I saw fear flicker in her eyes.

Willow fluttered forward, landing lightly on a broken beam. Her head tilted as she fixed Guo Yimu with an unblinking stare. “What happened here?” she asked, her tone deceptively mild.

Guo Yimu leaped down from the tree, landing with practiced ease despite the soaked ground. “A flood came out of nowhere,” he said quickly. “No warning, no signs. I barely had time to hide.”

I listened, but something felt off.

My gaze drifted to the thorny vines surrounding the clearing. They should have responded to me instinctively, extensions of my will through nature itself. Instead, they felt… empty. Severed. As though whatever connection we shared had been quietly erased.

They didn’t look wrong at a glance.

That was what made it worse.

My Druidic Insight stirred uneasily, whispering that something beneath the surface had been twisted and replaced.

I raised my staff.

Nature answered.

A Sunlight Orb formed at its tip, radiant and pure, the gathered energy humming with quiet authority before I released it in a single, decisive motion.

The orb struck Guo Yimu square in the chest.

There was no explosion. No dramatic recoil.

Just a clean, gaping hole where his heart should have been.

No blood followed.

Instead, a faint mist seeped from the wound, dissipating into the air like breath on a cold morning.

“Oh, that’s cold,” the figure remarked lightly.

The illusion shimmered, its form unraveling before reshaping into someone else entirely.

Long dark hair cascaded over ornate robes, each thread screaming excess and arrogance. A mischievous smile curved his lips as though this entire scene was nothing more than a private joke.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, amused.

Then they shifted to Zhen Ai.

“Sister,” he said softly, almost fondly. “I missed you.”

The word lingered in the air like poison.

Zhen Ai’s expression had gone rigid, her body tense in a way I had never seen before. The confidence, the pride, the quiet dominance she carried so effortlessly? All of it had cracked. What remained was something far more fragile.

Fear.