Immortal Druid

[POV: Xu Lei]

The war between the Sky Steel Sect and the Stone Spire Sect had long since ground to a tense standstill, like two blades pressed edge to edge, neither willing to yield nor able to advance. To understand the depth of their conflict, one had to first grasp the nature of their domains. The Sky Steel Sect ruled over the Steel Mountain Domain, while their rivals claimed dominion over the Stone Peaks Domain. These two territories were not merely neighbors but conjoined lands, forming what cultivators came to call the Twin Mountains Domain, divided only by a single towering mountain that rose like a natural boundary carved by the heavens themselves.

Their rivalry had not always been so bitter. In the ancient past, when both sects were still in their infancy, they had grown in isolation, unaware of each other's existence. Only when their cultivators reached greater heights, gaining the ability to traverse treacherous mountains and cross vast distances freely, did they finally encounter one another. That meeting had been the spark. At first, it was duel or tests of strength, prideful but contained. Over time, those duels became skirmishes, and those skirmishes hardened into habitual conflict.

The discovery of a secret realm nestled between their domains had only worsened matters. Resources were the lifeblood of any sect, and this secret realm was abundant beyond reason. Yet even then, the conflict might have remained manageable, a controlled hostility tempered by mutual benefit. What shattered that fragile balance was the assassination of the young master of the Sky Steel Sect. From that moment onward, reconciliation became a distant dream, and full-scale war erupted like a storm that refused to pass.

It was only recently that both sects had chosen to halt their advance. The reason lay before them now: a massive gash that had torn open above the secret realm’s cavern system, as though the mountain itself had been wounded. This rupture threatened the very foundation of their power. The Sky Steel Sect depended on the secret realm’s dense natural qi and rare metals to forge their unparalleled steel, while the Stone Spire Sect drew immense wealth from the dragon veins and mining operations rooted within those same depths.

A neutral camp had been established around the gash. The camp was divided cleanly down the middle, each sect occupying its own side with rigid discipline.

On one end was the banner of the Sky Steel Sect, represented by a sword piercing through clouds.

“Have you heard? There had already been an earlier attempt on Young Master Xing Ning,” one cultivator muttered, his voice thick with resentment. “And now that he is truly dead, those shameless Stone Spire dogs still dare to parade their young master around as if nothing has happened.”

“Disgusting,” another sneered. “They think we would swallow such humiliation?”

Across the divide, the Stone Spire Sect’s banner stood tall, a towering spire rising from layered stone and scattered pebbles.

“Their audacity knows no bounds,” a disciple whispered coldly. “Our young master personally sought peace, yet their delegation never even showed. Now they dare accuse us of assassination?”

“A convenient lie to justify their aggression,” another replied. “Typical of them.”

At the forefront of the Stone Spire Sect’s side stood Xu Lei, his presence alone enough to quiet those near him. His expression hardened as fragments of both sides’ murmurs reached his ears, carried across the tense silence.

“Enough,” Xu Lei said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a falling blade. “Hold your tongues. Do not disgrace yourselves by trading insults with them.”

The cultivators around him stiffened, lowering their heads in reluctant obedience. As the scion of the Stone Spire Sect, Xu Lei bore a weight far heavier than most could comprehend. Responsibility rested upon his shoulders like an immovable mountain, pressing down with every decision he made.

From the opposite camp, faint murmurs drifted over once more, less restrained this time.

“That is Xu Lei? The one they call their hope?”

“Hmph. A pretender wearing a noble mask. Who knows what schemes hide beneath that calm face?”

“He reeks of arrogance. No different from the rest of them.”

Xu Lei heard them, though he gave no outward reaction. In truth, he had long grown accustomed to such words. Since that day the mysterious sage spared him, he had spent countless hours in quiet reflection. He could still remember the sensation of death, cold and absolute, followed by the incomprehensible act of being returned to life by that mysterious sage.

The memory lingered within him like a shadow he could not dispel, yet it had also reshaped him in ways he struggled to fully understand. Whether it was redemption or simply delusion, Xu Lei chose to believe he had become someone better than the man who had once fallen.

He stepped forward, approaching the edge of the gash. Up close, its scale was even more unsettling, wide enough for a grown man to lie across sideways without touching either edge. It was such a shocking sight, because not even his father, a Nascent Soul expert, could cause such destruction. He doubted if someone from the Soul Transformation realm could even do the same.

Xu Lei drew in a steady breath before calling out. “Please send a representative.”

For a brief moment, only silence answered him. Then, from the Sky Steel Sect’s side, a powerful voice resounded, suppressing all noise beneath its weight.

“Silence. Let none speak without leave.”

The murmurs ceased instantly, as though crushed beneath an invisible force.

From the opposing camp, a figure emerged. It was Kang Wen, known far and wide as the Sword Frenzy. His aura was sharp, like a blade perpetually on the verge of being drawn.

Kang Wen stopped just short of the gash, his eyes meeting Xu Lei’s across the divide.

“Ha~! How ironic,” spat Kang Wen with mocking edge, his lips curling into a cold smile. “After all this time, we meet again like this, standing on opposite sides of a grave we both pretend not to have dug. You never deserved to be saved that day. Whatever miracle dragged you back from death? It was wasted on you.”

In truth, he did not entirely disagree. Whether it was the sage’s inscrutable intentions or his own flawed nature, Xu Lei could not say. After knowing death once, Xu Lei learned restraint and fear. He didn't want to experience something like that again. He liked to think of himself as righteous, and this war had been righteous. Their victory would mean prosperity for his sect, but lately, he was beginning to question whether that was indeed the case as the casualties on their side piled up.

Xu Lei exhaled slowly, letting the tension pass through him without resistance. When he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, and devoid of provocation. “Let us stay on topic. I am here to deliver a message from my father. He requests a proper meeting between the Sect Leaders alone.”

The surrounding cultivators fell silent almost instantly, as though the very weight of those words pressed down upon them. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, caught between two forces that refused to yield.

Kang Wen’s gaze lingered on Xu Lei for a moment longer before he let out a quiet scoff. “Hmph. You speak as though this farce has meaning. Very well. Our Sect Leader has already agreed. She's of the same mind to meet your Sect Leader.”

For a brief moment, the tension eased.

…

..

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[POV: Kang Wen]

Kang Wen watched Xu Lei’s retreating figure with narrowed eyes, the earlier mockery fading into something more complicated. “Arrogant prick,” he muttered under his breath, though the words lacked the sharpness they once carried. A quiet sigh followed, one he did not bother to hide. Deep within, a part of him questioned the narrative he had so fiercely clung to. The Stone Spire Sect… could they truly have orchestrated the young master’s death?

He said nothing of it.

From the entrance of his tent, Kang Wen observed as representatives from both sects worked in uneasy coordination, erecting a large tent directly over the gash. Every movement was precise, measured, as though any misstep might reignite the war they had only just paused. The structure rose quickly, enclosing the wound in the earth and granting the illusion of privacy for the meeting to come.

In his hands rested a sword darker than night itself. It absorbed light rather than reflected it, its edge so unnaturally sharp that it seemed to distort the space around it. This was the blade of Xing Ning, the only remnant left behind after his death. No body had been recovered, no final rites performed. Just this weapon, which spoke of the tragedy of their sect. Since the Sect Leader had refused to take it, Kang Wen took the sword for himself. As greedy and bane as it sounded, the sword was sharp and powerful. It would be a waste not to use it. Moreover, it was his way of mourning.

Every Stone Spire Sect dog that he had slain would be proof of his revenge for the precious life of the young master!

He ran a cloth along the blade, more out of instinct than necessity. The sword required no maintenance, yet his hands moved with practiced familiarity. It was something to do and to ground himself in the face of thoughts he would rather not entertain.

Time passed slowly, and it was doing no good to Kang Wen's mind. At some point, impatience finally got the better of him. Without hesitation, he made his way toward the Sect Leader’s tent and stepped inside. Within, Xing Mei sat with composed elegance, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she read a parchment. Her presence was calm, yet it carried an invisible weight that filled the entire space.

Kang Wen did not bother with formalities. “Sect Leader, this is a mistake,” he said bluntly. “They are exposed. Both leaders in one place, the father and the son. This is the perfect opportunity to end it. One strike, and we take them with us. The war would be decided here and now.”

Xing Mei did not even look up.

Undeterred, Kang Wen stepped closer, his tone softening slightly, though urgency still lingered beneath it. “Mei’er, niece… You know I’m right. This is the best chance we’ll ever get.”

The moment the name left his lips, the air shifted.

A crushing pressure descended without warning, forcing the very atmosphere to tremble. Xing Mei’s spiritual presence surged outward, vast and suffocating, embodying the terrifying authority of the Nascent Soul realm. The space within the tent seemed to shrink, as though reality itself bent under her will. Only those of the Xing bloodline could inherit the position of Sect Leader, a legacy etched not just in tradition, but in something deeper, something tied to the very essence of their lineage and secret arts.

Finally, she looked up.

Her gaze was cold.

“Kang Wen,” Xing Mei said, her voice low but absolute. “Mind your place. This is your final warning.”

…

..

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[POV: Xing Mei]

Xing Mei stepped into the newly erected tent without hesitation.

Inside, seated across a simple table, was an old man whose bearing was as steady as a mountain. Xu Ping did not rise, but neither did he show any sign of disrespect. His gaze met hers evenly, as though the weight of their sects rested quietly between them.

For a moment, neither spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with years of bloodshed and unresolved hatred.

Xing Mei broke it first. “Tell me, Sect Leader Xu,” she said, her tone measured, “what do you think caused this gash before us? There are witness accounts… some even claim it was the work of Heavenly Tribulation.”

“Perhaps, or maybe not,” remarked Xu Ping contemplatively.

“A dull answer.”

Xu Ping’s brows furrowed slightly, though his composure remained intact. “And how does Sect Leader Xing intend to handle this?”

“This war has gone on long enough,” said Xing Mei quietly. “There is something else at work here and something vile by nature, something that does not belong. Whether it seeks to displace us or destroy us, I cannot yet say. But continuing this conflict will only weaken us further.” She paused, then added with quiet finality, “I propose that both our sects close their gates for three hundred years.”

Xu Ping leaned back slightly, his expression turning contemplative. The suggestion was drastic, but not without reason. Isolation would preserve strength, allow recovery, and perhaps shield them from whatever unseen force loomed beyond their understanding.

After a long moment, he spoke. “I can agree… on one condition.”

Xing Mei’s eyes narrowed slightly, though she said nothing, allowing him to continue.

“You will hand over the heads of those who broke the rules,” Xu Ping said evenly. “Those who slaughtered cultivators beneath their realm. Qi Condensation against Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment against Foundation Establishment. These were not arbitrary laws! They are the foundation of what we claim to be as righteous cultivators.” His gaze hardened slightly. “What would you feel, Sect Leader Xing, if I personally roamed your lands and butchered every Qi Condensation or Body Tempering disciple I came across?”

The question struck like a blade.

Xing Mei’s composure wavered for the briefest of moments before her expression turned cold. “And what of my son?” she shot back, her voice cutting through the air. “Your sect killed him!”

The tension spiked instantly, the fragile ground between them threatening to collapse. Violence fed on violence, each act justifying the next, an endless cycle neither side had been willing to break.

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

The voice was sudden, calm, and entirely out of place.

Both sect leaders turned at once.

A white cat stood within the tent, its presence silent yet unmistakable, as though it had always been there. Before either could react, its form shimmered, stretching and shifting until a man stood in its place, silver-haired, sharp-featured, and with pointed ears and a staff held loosely in one hand.

He looked at them both, his expression unreadable.

“This war has to stop,” he said simply. “But first… let me explain.”

…

..

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Outside the tent, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Cultivators from both the Sky Steel Sect and the Stone Spire Sect lingered at a careful distance, their eyes fixed on the structure that now concealed their leaders. Quiet murmurs spread through the ranks, unable to settle into certainty.

“What’s happening in there?”

“Why hasn’t anything come out yet?”

“They’ve been inside too long…”

The tent was reinforced with a noise-canceling formation array, layered with spells that sealed away every trace of sound, keeping their conversation private. Still, the promise of bloodshed remained; each cultivator present was ready to draw steel if they must. Ending this war, meaning having to let go of their anger, hatred, and the sacrifices made. However, if they wouldn't end now? When would it actually end?

It would only go two ways: either one of them becomes extinct, or they both get tired of it.