Immortal Druid

[POV: Zhen Ai]

Zhen Ai opened her eyes to the whisper of wind brushing against her skin, her naked form pressed gently against the cool, living grass. For a fleeting moment, she clung to the fragile hope that it had all been nothing more than a nightmare, a cruel illusion conjured by fate to torment her restless mind. Her trembling hands moved instinctively to her belly, her spiritual sense diving inward in desperate search of the life she had once nurtured.

There was nothing.

The emptiness answered her.

Her breath hitched as the truth settled like a blade in her chest. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, unrestrained and unending. What once existed, proved that she had loved, that she had been loved? It was all gone. Erased. Taken from her. And now, she was left behind, alone in a world that had already cast her aside once before.

A chorus of cawing broke through her grief.

Zhen Ai slowly lifted her gaze, her vision blurred by tears, and found herself surrounded by crows. Dozens of them stood upon the branches, upon the ground, their dark eyes fixed upon her as they cawed incessantly. Yet there was no hostility in their presence. They circled her like sentinels, like guardians drawn to her sorrow.

Her attention shifted, drawn by something far greater.

On the distant horizon, a colossal tree pierced the heavens, its roots buried deep within the earth while its crown stretched beyond the clouds. It stood as though it connected heaven and earth itself, an existence that defied mortal comprehension. Its presence radiated an ancient authority, a force that silenced the world around it.

And beneath that divine pillar, something writhed.

Zhen Rang.

Her brother’s enormous dragon form thrashed violently upon the ground, his scales scorched and torn as if the heavens themselves had turned against him. Small suns manifested in the air, descending like divine punishment, exploding against his body in bursts of searing light. From below, enormous roots and thorny vines erupted from the earth, binding him, piercing him, and dragging him back each time he struggled to rise.

The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

“YOU DARE—AAARGH! THIS IS INJUSTICE! I AM OF THE SEA DRAGON PALACE! HEAVENS, HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!” Zhen Rang’s voice thundered across the sky, his cries shaking the very firmament as pain and fury twisted together in his wails.

Yet the one responsible for this punishment remained unmoved.

Suspended in the air above the battlefield was a being Zhen Ai had only ever heard of in whispered stories from her mother. A Fairy King. A sovereign of the ancient forests. A ruler not by crown, but by the will of nature itself.

Through her spiritual sense, she recognized him.

Wo Li.

But this was no longer the man she had known.

Twigs formed a crown upon his head, as though the forest itself had crowned him king. Butterfly-like wings shimmered behind him, radiant and ethereal. His skin was pale like carved ivory, and a flowing white mane trailed behind him like moonlight given form. He hovered in the sky, his gaze cold and imperious as he looked down upon the dragon writhing beneath him.

Zhen Rang, who once stood above her, who once judged her, who once destroyed everything she held dear, now struggled like a worm pinned beneath the weight of heaven and earth.

Something inside her snapped.

A manic laugh tore from her lips, sharp and unrestrained as she rose to her feet, her grief twisting into something far more volatile.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! Punish him! Tear him apart!” she screamed, her voice hoarse yet filled with exhilaration. “Kill him! Make him suffer! Let him feel every bit of pain he gave me! Don’t let him die easily! Break him! Destroy him completely!”

Her laughter echoed wildly, spiraling into madness as the crows around her cawed in unison, their cries rising to match her frenzy.

“HAHAHAHAHA! Yes! That’s what you deserve, Zhen Rang! That’s what you deserve!”

…

..

.

I hovered in silence as the dragon’s breath tore through the sky, a torrent of destructive force aimed directly at me. It passed harmlessly by, missing its mark entirely before crashing into the Spirit of the World Tree behind me.

The impact was immense.

And utterly meaningless.

The tree remained untouched, its existence beyond the reach of such crude power. I did not so much as glance back. My attention remained fixed on the creature below me, writhing, furious, defiant even in the face of inevitable death.

His gaze burned with hatred as it locked onto mine.

“What business is this of yours?!” the dragon roared, his voice trembling with rage and desperation. “This is a family matter! You have no stake in this! That woman, she must have seduced you! Twisted your mind! You are not thinking clearly!”

I said nothing.

His words carried no weight.

I'm glad it worked in the end. The unfamiliarity of cultivators and their methods had always been a sore point of weakness for me. It was something I would never be able to learn just from reading books or talking to another cultivator. A lack of firsthand experience would have been fatal, however, not as fatal as not being willing to learn. I learned a lot today. This had been a very educational experience on how a Soul Transformation cultivator fights or their stats.

A simple casting of Spirit of the World Tree wouldn't have been enough if the enemy decided to make a run for it, or even if my crowd control spell missed.

Another ripple of energy surged as Zhen Rang attempted to invade my mind, a desperate mental assault aimed at breaking my focus. It shattered upon contact, dispersing like mist before it could even take form. In this state, such attempts were beneath notice.

He grew more frantic.

Flames erupted, torrents of water surged, illusions flickered into existence, each more desperate than the last. Yet none of it mattered. The roots answered my will. The thorned vines tightened their grasp. The miniature suns I had conjured continued their relentless descent, hammering into him again and again without pause.

It was time.

I raised my hand slightly, my will extending into the earth below.

An Ironwood Spike erupted from beneath his tail, piercing through flesh and scale alike.

“I have no mercy for villains,” I said calmly, my voice carrying across the battlefield. “For spawns of chaos who upset the balance for their sickening greed, their malicious intent, and the evil they disguise as righteousness.”

I gestured again.

Another spike surged upward.

“AAARGH! FOOL! YOU ARE MAKING A GRAVE MISTAKE!” the dragon howled, his body convulsing as the agony intensified.

I did not stop.

Another gesture. Another spike.

Then another.

Each one rose higher than the last, driving its way through his massive form in a slow, deliberate ascent until the spikes reached his head.

“That was for my treehouse,” I said, my tone unchanged. “For the guest house. And for Guo Yimu.”

Two more spikes followed in quick succession, tearing through him as his screams grew increasingly ragged.

“That was for hurting Zhen Ai,” I continued. “And for trying to take her against her will.”

I raised my hand once more.

Another spike.

“This one,” I said, glancing down at him without emotion, “is because I felt like it.”

The dragon’s eyes widened as desperation overtook fury.

“The Sea Dragon Palace will not—”

“I do not care.”

My hand moved again. The final Ironwood Spike erupted upward, driving straight through his skull. The world finally fell silent. Only the rustling of leaves remained.

“Finally, peace.”

I reappeared before Zhen Ai as the Spirit of the World Tree unraveled behind me, its towering presence dissolving into drifting motes of light. My Wild Shape faded with it, the borrowed majesty of the Fairy King slipping away as I returned to my true form with silver hair falling over my shoulders, pointed ears exposed to the cool air, and my staff once more resting firmly in my grasp.

The strength left me in waves.

I leaned on the staff just enough to steady myself, masking the tremor that threatened to betray my exhaustion. Whatever I had done just now had drained me far deeper than I cared to admit. Still, I could not let her see that. Not now.

Zhen Ai stood before me, and the sight of her struck harder than any tribulation.

Blood trailed down her legs, staining the grass beneath her. Her skin, once vibrant, was marred with bruises and wounds, each one a silent testament to what she had endured. But it was her eyes that unsettled me most. They were hollow and empty in a way that no physical injury could explain. It was as if something essential had been carved out of her very being.

She looked at me, her lips trembling.

“I must go now,” she whispered, her voice fragile, almost breaking. “My family is waiting for me… on the other side.”

Before I could respond, her hand rose. Water Qi gathered along her fingers, condensing into a sharp, shimmering edge as she drove it toward her chest.

I moved without thinking.

My hand shot forward and caught her wrist.

“Zhen Ai,” I said, my voice low but firm, “at least let me try.”

Her gaze wavered, confusion flickering across her face. “Try… what?” she asked hollowly. “My life is meaningless now. There is no hope for me.”

I shook my head.

“I refuse to believe that.”

The words came from somewhere deeper than thought. I had already placed the balance upon my own hands, and I had chosen. Whatever consequences followed, they were mine to bear. Helping her was right. I firmly believed that.

I let my qi flow.

“Lifepulse.”

A gentle wave of vitality spread from me, washing over her body. The bruises faded, the torn flesh mended, the blood slowed and ceased. Life returned to her skin, faint but undeniable. I lowered myself to one knee, ignoring the protest of my body, and placed my hand gently upon her abdomen.

I reached inward with my spiritual sense.

There was nothing.

But I refused to accept that. I held onto the idea of it. The shape of a life, the echo of what once was. I clung to it with everything I had, as if sheer will alone could bridge the gap between absence and existence.

I did not know gods.

I did not understand faith.

But I knew this.

She did not deserve this end.

“Revive Life.”

My words were only met with silence, yet I tried again.

“Revive Life.”

Something stirred.

Zhen Ai’s body trembled violently as her eyes widened. Tears spilled freely once more, but they were no longer empty. “I… I can feel it…” she choked, her voice breaking as disbelief flooded her expression. “It’s there… it’s alive… Ah! Ah!”

Her hands clutched her abdomen as laughter bubbled through her tears, raw and unrestrained.

“My baby… my baby is alive again!”

She laughed and cried all at once, her entire being shaking as hope, fragile yet radiant, returned to her. Slowly, she looked at me. Her gaze faltered, filled with worry. Through the reflection in her eyes, I saw myself. An old man stared back at me. Wrinkled skin. Sunken features. The vitality that once filled me had been stripped away, leaving behind something frail and withered.

So that was the cost.

I placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying both her and myself.

“Live well,” I said quietly.

There was nothing more to add.

I stood, my legs trembling beneath me, and turned away. Each step felt heavier than the last, my body no longer responding as it once did. My hands had grown thin and brittle, like dried branches. Even holding my staff felt like a burden.

Above me, the sky began to change.

The clouds churned violently, darkening as if stirred by unseen fury. The air grew heavy, charged with something oppressive that pressed down on me from all directions. I could feel the judgment and the inevitability of what was coming.

Heaven had taken notice.

I tried to call upon my power, instinctively reaching for Wild Shape, but nothing answered. My druidic abilities remained silent, unresponsive, as though they had been stripped away along with the vitality I had lost.

A faint smile formed on my lips.

“I did the right thing,” I murmured.

I lifted my arms, spreading them wide as I faced the sky, as if welcoming whatever it intended to throw at me. “Give me your best shot.”

The heavens responded.

Rain poured down in sudden torrents, drenching me instantly as thunder roared above. Lightning coiled within the clouds, gathering, building, until it could no longer be contained.

Then it descended.

The first strike hit like a force beyond comprehension, searing through my body with unbearable intensity. Pain exploded within me, far greater than anything I had endured before. It wasn’t just physical. It felt as though my very existence was being torn apart, unraveled, and judged in the same instant.

I gasped, my body trembling as I struggled to remain standing.

Ah… it hurts.

Another bolt followed, then another, each one worse than the last. My vision blurred, my senses drowned beneath the overwhelming surge of agony that refused to let up.

And yet…

I smiled.

Because this pain, this unbearable, all-consuming pain? It proved something.

I was alive.

This wasn’t a dream. Not an illusion, not some fleeting hallucination conjured by a broken mind. This was real. I had lived, I had acted, and now I was facing the consequence of that choice.

Ah… yes.

I lived.

If there truly was an afterlife waiting beyond this, then I didn’t want to be asked how I died.

I wanted to be asked how I lived.

Lightning cracked across my tongue as I tasted it, my throat dry and burning as I forced the words out, each one carved from what little strength I had left.

“Balance… is not in taking,” I rasped, my voice breaking against the storm. “It is in giving… even when it costs you everything.”