Immortal Druid

[POV: Lu Jing]

Having escaped that abomination, Lu Jing’s thoughts no longer lingered on survival, but on the infinite possibilities. Even as a drifting, incomplete soul, he saw the path ahead with unsettling clarity. A second chance at cultivation!

He had once stood at the peak, reaching the limits of the Immortal Realm, only to be smote by the heavens. When he thought all hope was lost, he was then confronted by that mysterious cultivator who seemed to possess powers beyond Lu Jing’s understanding That revelation alone ignited a hunger that eclipsed all else. Now unbound, he would walk that path again. And this time? He would succeed.

His soul drifted through the forest, silent and unseen, searching with purpose. He needed a vessel, one that would not hinder, but accelerate his ascent. Mortals and low-level cultivators passed beneath him like shadows, unworthy of notice.

Then he found one.

A bald young man walked a narrow forest path, his robes simple but clean, his bearing composed. Though faint Qi Condensation fluctuations surrounded him, he carried himself like a monk. He was detached and serene. His hands were cupped as he approached a group of villagers.

“Kind patrons,” he said softly, bowing his head, “this humble monk seeks alms. Even a single grain of rice would be received with gratitude.”

“Shut up, you fake monk! Leave me alone!”

Lu Jing observed him, interest stirring. It was unusual that someone with a cultivation foundation choosing such a humble path. Yet beneath that simplicity, his spiritual roots were clean, well-formed, and, more importantly, compatible.

A suitable vessel.

He waited.

When night fell and the monk settled beneath a tree, slipping into light sleep, Lu Jing moved. His soul descended without hesitation, entering the body like a blade through water. A faint resistance surfaced, instinctual and weak, but it shattered under the force of his will.

Moments later, the young man’s eyes snapped open.

Lu Jing inhaled sharply, grounding himself in the weight of flesh, in the steady rhythm of a living body. He flexed his fingers before turning inward. His cultivation revealed itself instantly and his expression darkened.

During his resurrection, he had already fallen to the Soul Transformation realm, a loss he had begrudgingly accepted.

But now?

Just a measly Nascent Soul.

He exhaled slowly, suppressing the flicker of irritation. This was worse than expected. To fall from such heights to this level was like a sovereign reduced to infancy.

And yet, a faint smile curved his lips.

It didn’t matter.

Because now he knew.

There was something beyond the Immortal Realm. A greater horizon. A higher truth.

Before that distant goal, however, there was a more immediate obstacle. The strange, pointy-eared cultivator was both the answer and the problem. The memory lingered vividly, a presence that defied both the orthodox and unorthodox thoughts. To walk his path freely, Lu Jing would have to surpass it, subdue it, or eliminate it.

For that, he needed strength.

He sifted through the fragmented memories of his new body. What he found was incomplete with sections missing, as though torn away. Still, enough remained to form a rough outline.

Fragments of forest life surfaced. Then came flashes of something more structured: a sect, authority, status.

A young master.

Lu Jing’s smile deepened.

That would be useful.

“From now on, my name is Guo Yimu.”

It was temporary. Once he returned to the peak, he would reclaim his true name without hesitation. Until then, this identity would suffice.

Not long after, voices broke the forest’s quiet.

“Senior Brother Guo Yimu! Is that really you?” one cultivator called out, disbelief evident. “We’ve been searching everywhere. We thought we lost you!”

Another stepped forward, concern evident. “You vanished without a trace. The sect was in an uproar. Are you hurt?”

Lu Jing remained still, observing and analyzing their reactions and expectations. Then, without hesitation, he suppressed his Nascent Soul aura down to Qi Condensation. The shift was seamless.

He inclined his head slightly. “Seniors,” he said calmly, “I’m afraid… I do not recognize you.”

Confusion spread instantly.

“What do you mean?” one frowned. “Guo Yimu, stop joking.”

Lu Jing shook his head, his expression composed but uncertain. “I’m not. My memories… are fractured. There are gaps I cannot fill, faces I cannot recall.”

They exchanged uneasy glances.

“This isn’t like you,” another muttered. “You’ve always been arrogant, sharp-tongued. Now you’re acting like a different person.”

Lu Jing lowered his gaze, letting silence do the rest. There was no need to overplay it. The inconsistency would be blamed on his condition, not deception.

Soon, they brought him back to their sect, the Serenity Cliff Sect, as his memories faintly confirmed. The journey was uneventful, but the attention was not. Concern, suspicion, and relief spread as news of his return circulated.

He was examined by the sect physician, subjected to both spiritual and physical diagnostics. Lu Jing cooperated fully, offering calculated honesty and revealing enough to reinforce his narrative. His composure and eloquence did the rest. Doubt lingered, but it was dulled.

In the end, he gained what he needed most.

Privacy.

Using his amnesia as justification, Lu Jing entered seclusion without resistance. Behind closed doors, the mask fell away, clarity returning to his eyes.

This body had potential, but it was flawed.

Its spiritual roots were primarily water-aligned, refined but narrow. Yet beneath that surface lay something far more valuable. It was rare and powerful shadow roots. It was so frustratingly and completely undeveloped.

Lu Jing wasted no time.

Drawing upon many centuries of experience, he began refining the foundation of his cultivation, restructuring it at its core. What would take an ordinary cultivator years, if not decades, he completed with ruthless precision. Every flaw was corrected, every inefficiency stripped away.

In less than a week, the transformation was complete.

The shadow roots awakened fully, intertwining with his foundation in seamless harmony as he discarded the water roots. Lu Jing opened his eyes slowly. A trace of darkness flickered within them before settling into stillness.

A new path had begun.

And this time, he would not stop until he stood above everything.

Months passed in steady, deliberate progress. Lu Jing adapted flawlessly to the identity of Guo Yimu, wearing his face, status, and reputation as though they had always been his. Within the Serenity Cliff Sect, Guo Yimu had long been regarded as a genius, and Lu Jing built upon that foundation without hesitation. Every gesture, tone, and reaction was carefully controlled until it ceased to feel like an act and became instinct.

He did not merely imitate Guo Yimu. Instead, he rewrote himself to fit the role.

One afternoon, as he walked through the inner courtyard, two familiar figures approached. Without pause, Lu Jing inclined his head, his expression calm.

“Elder Brother. Father.”

Guo Yuti circled him with a grin. “You’ve grown your hair out again,” he remarked lightly. “What happened? Gave up on being a monk? I thought you’d be chanting scriptures for life.”

“Enough,” Guo Yume cut in, his tone sharp. “Leave us. I need to speak with him alone.”

Guo Yuti raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking as he departed.

Once they were alone, the air grew heavier.

“When you returned,” Guo Yume said, his gaze stern, “you failed to pay respects to me or the Sect Leader. Do you understand how improper that is?”

Lu Jing lowered his head immediately. “This son was unfilial. My memories were in disarray, and I failed in my duties. I ask Father for forgiveness. It will not happen again.”

Guo Yume studied him, then exhaled. “Fine. Just remember your place.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Now, why are you here?”

Behind his composed exterior, Lu Jing’s thoughts moved swiftly.

Over the past months, he had refined the shadow roots into something greater. They’ve been elevated into dark roots, far superior to the body’s original foundation. Yet even that was insufficient. His goal lay beyond. It was to acquire the abyssal roots, a pinnacle he had never reached in his previous life. His progress had stalled. To advance further, he needed resources such as pills, spirit stones, and anything that could push him forward.

“Father, this son has made significant progress in cultivation. I have come to request additional resources such as pills, spirit stones, anything that may aid further advancement.” A faint smile touched his lips. “At this rate, it may not be long before I surpass my peers. Perhaps… the Guo Clan may soon hold two elder positions within the sect.”

The words were bold.

To support them, Lu Jing released a fraction of his true cultivation.

The air shifted as a Core Formation spiritual pressure pressed outward, heavy and undeniable.

Guo Yume’s composure shattered. “Core Formation?” he exclaimed. “How is this possible? You were at Qi Condensation not long ago!”

Lu Jing remained calm, allowing the pressure to linger before withdrawing it.

Excitement replaced shock. “No, this won’t do,” Guo Yume said, stepping forward. “We’ll spar. Now.”

They moved to an open training ground, swords drawn.

The clash ended almost instantly.

Guo Yume, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, stood no chance. Lu Jing’s movements were precise and overwhelming. In two clean exchanges, he disarmed and subdued him completely.

Silence followed.

“It’s true!” Guo Yume shouted, exhilaration breaking through as he broke through the silence. “My son is a heaven-defying genius!”

Lu Jing sheathed his sword, expression modest. “This son was fortunate. During my time of memory loss, I encountered a rare opportunity, a herb known as the Noctis Umbra Bloom. It absorbs the essence of night. Consuming it refined my foundation and accelerated my cultivation.”

The explanation was smooth and plausible. The herb existed, though its rarity bordered on myth.

From that day on, Lu Jing’s standing within the Guo Clan and the sect rose sharply.

Yet beneath the surface, not everything was under his control.

At times, the true Guo Yimu stirred deep within, his will pushing back, faint but persistent.

Lu Jing handled it without hesitation. He sealed that consciousness within a constructed illusion, trapping it in a fabricated reality where it could neither interfere nor awaken. Out of sight. Out of mind.

Time flowed swiftly.

Within a year, bolstered by the vast resources at his disposal, Lu Jing achieved what he had once deemed impossible. The dark roots evolved further, collapsing inward and reshaping into something deeper, more absolute.

Abyssal roots.

They pulsed within him like a void given form, devouring and refining energy with terrifying efficiency.

With that transformation came a surge in cultivation. His Nascent Soul stabilized, strengthened, and rose steadily until it reached the peak of its realm.

“Just a few more…”

Beyond the Nascent Soul lay the Soul Transformation.

And Lu Jing stood at its threshold, closer than ever.

His cultivation advanced with an ease that would have driven others to despair. He had already walked this path once. He stumbled, risen, and clawed his way toward the summit. What others struggled to grasp, he remembered. What others feared, he embraced.

At the Soul Transformation realm, most cultivators misunderstood the nature of the soul. They believed in a single essence anchoring their existence.

They were wrong.

A cultivator possessed six souls: a primary soul rooted in the heart, a secondary soul within the head, and four tertiary souls distributed across the limbs. Together, they formed a complete yet fragile whole.

Within those six souls lay the capacity to house six laws.

To assimilate a law was not merely to understand it, but to embody it and to become its manifestation. For most, this required decades of contemplation.

For Lu Jing, it required none.

He began with his primary soul.

The Nascent Soul within his heart trembled, then transformed as it absorbed the Law of Abyss. Darkness coiled within him. It was not the mere absence of light, but something heavier. It was the memory of failure, the suffocating despair he had felt when he stood before the threshold beyond the Immortal Realm and could not cross it.

Once, that despair had nearly consumed him.

Now, he refined it.

The Abyss became his foundation.

Next came the secondary soul.

The Law of Death, once his core, shifted into his mind.

Then, one by one, the remaining souls awakened to the laws of the world.

Space unfolded within his limbs, granting instinctive control over distance and distortion. Power surged through him, reinforcing every aspect of his existence. Loss seeped quietly into his being, shaping his understanding of absence and sacrifice. And finally, Lies wove into his essence, bending perception until even reality felt negotiable.

Six souls.

Six laws.

Complete.

Lu Jing opened his eyes, the world settling into sharper clarity. Only four years had passed since he claimed this body, yet he had surpassed what others achieved in centuries or even thousands of years.

Without interference, it would have taken longer.

But something had intervened.

A figure stood before him, bearing the presence of Nascent Soul cultivation, his posture respectful.

“Congratulations on your breakthrough,” the Dark Order cultivator said with a slight bow.

Lu Jing regarded him calmly. The mysterious pill and resources this cultivator provided had accelerated his progress, smoothing the final barriers.

Even so, it was not enough.

He needed the Immortal Realm, and soon.

“Report,” he said, his tone even, yet heavy with authority.

…

..

.

[POV: Teng Hua]

Teng Hua stood within the dim chamber, his expression composed despite the tension beneath it. The Dark Order had suffered repeated setbacks, each more severe than the last.

The attempt to seize the Shén had failed, though that outcome had been anticipated. The Willow Order’s hidden strength remained an unpredictable variable.

That failure was tolerable.

However, the failure of there operatives failing in staging the invasion and the resurrection of their ancestor? It was a different matter entirely. They have disastrous consequences, reaching several domains.

Teng Hua had spent years embedding himself within enemy territory, building influence while risking exposure at every turn. To see those efforts yield so little was unacceptable.

There was, however, one silver lining. The ancestor lived, which raised a more troubling question. What had happened to the operatives sent to the Twin Mountains Domain to retrieve and revive him? Had they failed? Been eliminated? Had the ancestor himself dealt with them?

Teng Hua dismissed the thought. From all prior interactions, the ancestor had been cooperative, even receptive. There had been no sign of hostility, which meant something else had intervened.

And that unknown factor was far more dangerous.

Across the continent, the situation had deteriorated rapidly. Outposts were falling. Hidden bases were being exposed and destroyed. The Willow Order, once reactive, had begun striking with precision.

Teng Hua stepped forward and bowed. “Ancestor, the continent is becoming increasingly unstable. The Willow Order has begun full retaliation. Our forces are suffering heavy losses. Our agents had been compromised, and continuously being weeded out. I advise withdrawal and regrouping at the main base. Preserving our strength now may determine our survival later.”

“No.”

The single word cut cleanly through the air.

The ancestor’s gaze bore down on him, cold fury beneath its surface. “I am close,” he said. “Closer than I have been since my fall. I will not abandon this opportunity.”

A dangerous edge entered his voice.

“There is still a debt to settle. So, any news of my quarry?”

Teng Hua lowered his head, masking the tension in his eyes. He had heard fragments of this mysterious cultivator, whispers without substance. Even with his resources, he had uncovered nothing concrete.

Whoever this person was…?

They were extraordinary.

Extraordinary enough to command the ancestor’s fixation.

“I understand,” Teng Hua said carefully. “I will have my subordinates intensify the search. We will find this individual.”

He straightened, composure restored.

“You will have results.”