Immortal Druid

“Yes, yes! It’s me, it’s really me! I’m Xing Ning!”

The voice came from the sword, frantic and overlapping with itself, as if afraid I might miss it. Only I could hear it, clear as day, echoing within my mind. It reminded me immediately of my Voice of the World ability. Without it, to everyone else, the blade was nothing more than a silent artifact.

“It’s Xing Ning,” I said aloud.

The table fell silent.

Kang Wen’s drunken haze vanished almost instantly as qi surged through his body, forcing the alcohol out. His posture straightened, his eyes sharpening with disbelief. “What do you mean it’s Xing Ning?” he demanded.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I turned and walked straight toward the platform where Xing Ning’s body lay.

Murmurs rippled through the gathered cultivators as I approached, their confusion growing with every step I took. Even I found it hard to believe. I had never known this sword to possess such an ability. How had Xing Ning ended up within it? Was it a last resort? A coincidence? Or something else entirely?

I reached the platform and placed the Blackedge Eclipse gently over his body.

“What is he doing?”

“Why is he putting the sword there?”

“Has grief driven him mad?”

“Careful, that’s the Lord Immortal we are talking about…”

The whispers grew louder, sharper.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Xing Mei’s voice cut through the noise. “What is the meaning of this?”

I glanced at her briefly before answering, “Your son may still be alive.”

Impatience got the better of me. Before she could respond, I raised my staff and brought it down against the ground with a firm thump.

“Revive Life.”

The earth responded instantly. The platform trembled before the ground beneath it softened and gave way, swallowing everything from the body, the sword, and the offerings into the depths below.

“No, my son!” Xing Mei cried out, her composure finally breaking.

I extended my staff outward, stopping her from rushing forward. “Leave this to me.”

Above us, the sky darkened.

Clouds churned violently, gathering into a spiraling mass as heaven itself took notice. The oppressive pressure descended almost immediately, thick and suffocating. Heavenly Tribulation was forming.

A faint smile tugged at my lips.

It was working.

I knew it was arrogant of me to defy the heavens like this, to drag someone back from the brink when even my previous attempts had failed. But I did not hesitate. If this succeeded, then the cost, whatever it might be, would be mine to bear.

Lightning roared overhead.

Then, slowly, the earth shifted once more.

Something was being returned.

The ground parted, and the Blackedge Eclipse was spat back onto the surface. Only the sword. I frowned. That was wrong. The body should have returned as well, restored. But there was nothing. No flesh, no form. Just the blade.

Before I could process it further, the heavens struck.

“Wild Shape: Primal Nature Elemental.”

My body transformed, raw natural energy surging through me as I braced myself. Lightning crashed down, tearing into me with relentless fury. Pain exploded across every inch of my being, burning, searing, overwhelming, but I held on. Strike after strike descended, each one threatening to tear me apart, yet I endured, gritting my teeth through the agony.

I would not let go.

Not now.

When the storm finally subsided, I released the transformation, my body returning to normal as the last remnants of lightning faded into the air.

Before I could catch my breath, a hand grabbed my sleeve.

“My son! Where’s my son!?” Xing Mei cried, her voice trembling with desperation.

I opened my mouth, only to hesitate.

“I… don’t know.”

The words felt inadequate and hollow.

A hand burst out from the flat side of the sword.

It clawed at the ground, fingers digging into the dirt as it struggled to pull itself free. Slowly, impossibly, half of Xing Ning’s body emerged from the blade, as though he were forcing his way out of another dimension.

“This feels weird and wrong in many ways,” Xing Ning said, his voice strained.

Chaos erupted.

“It’s a ghost!”

“An evil spirit!”

“Draw your weapons!”

Cultivators all around us reacted instantly, hands flying to hilts, qi surging as spells began to form. Panic spread like wildfire, the situation spiraling out of control in mere seconds.

Xing Mei stepped forward.

“Everyone, calm down!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. She turned toward Xing Ning, her expression trembling between hope and fear. “Is it really you?”

Xing Ning nodded weakly. “Mom…”

The single word broke something within her.

I stepped closer, eyeing his half-emerged state. “Do you need help?”

He gave a strained nod. “I’m… stuck.”

I grabbed the sword by the hilt and began pulling. When I couldn’t even make it budge, I started swinging downward in short, controlled motions, trying to force the rest of him out.

Xing Ning flailed wildly. “Be gentle! BE GENTLE!”

“I AM BEING GENTLE!” I shot back.

With one final tug, he popped free and tumbled onto the ground. He quickly pushed himself up and stumbled toward Xing Mei, his face lighting up as he reached out to embrace her, only to pass straight through her.

“It really is a ghost!” someone screamed.

Panic surged once more, louder than before.

I stood there, staring at Xing Ning and realized I had no idea where to even begin unraveling what had just happened.

Why had he returned like this?

Revive Life should have restored flesh, bone, and breath. It should have brought him back whole. Instead, I had pulled him from somewhere beyond… and what returned was a spirit anchored to a blade. It felt wrong, yet not entirely unnatural. My gaze drifted to the pitch-black sword in my hand. Blackedge Eclipse. I could not remember it ever possessing such an ability, not even when accounting for the layered innate skills embedded within it. Even its flavor text no matter how exaggerated or legendary should not have allowed this.

And yet, my Druidic Insight remained silent.

That meant only one thing.

This phenomenon existed within the Natural Order.

Strange… but permissible.

Which meant Xing Ning, in this state, was not an abomination.

Xing Mei stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached toward her son, only for them to pass through him again. Her voice broke as she spoke. “What happened to you? How did you die?”

Xing Ning’s expression darkened. “I… don’t know exactly how I ended up like this,” he admitted. Then his gaze shifted, sharp and cold. “But I know how I died.”

He turned toward Kang Wen.

“Why did you betray me?”

The air froze.

In an instant, cultivators surrounded Kang Wen, their auras rising, their vigilance absolute. Even I felt a flicker of surprise. Of all possibilities… this was not one I had considered.

Kang Wen did not resist.

He was crying.

“I thank the heavens… I thank the heavens that the young master is alive,” he said hoarsely, his voice trembling. “I have regretted that day more times than I can count…”

A suffocating pressure descended.

Long Xue had risen to his feet, his drunkenness gone, his spiritual pressure crushing down on everyone present. His expression was colder than I had ever seen it. “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet but filled with fury. “Why did you do it?”

Behind Kang Wen, Xu Ping stepped forward, his presence sealing off any path of retreat. There would be no escape.

“This must be a misunderstanding,” Xing Mei said quickly, her voice unsteady but resolute. “Kang Wen has always been loyal to our sect. He would never—” She faltered, then turned to him. “Uncle… explain yourself.”

Xing Ning’s voice cut through hers, sharp as steel. “Why did you do it?”

Silence stretched.

Then Kang Wen slowly raised his arm… and pointed at me.

“It’s because of him.”

I could have silenced him. One word, one motion, and this would end before it began.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to hear this.

Kang Wen’s voice rose, raw and filled with bitterness. “Do you know how unfair it is?” he demanded, his gaze locked onto me. “The first time we met, you saved my life. I thought… I thought you were someone sent by the heavens themselves.” His laugh was hollow, broken. “And then I watched you kill Long Xue… and bring him back like it was nothing.”

His hands clenched.

“Do you know what that does to a man?” he continued. “To see life and death treated so lightly? To realize everything we fight for… everything we lose… can be undone just like that?” His voice cracked. “Was the war meaningless? Were the sacrifices of my brothers and sisters meaningless?”

“Meaningless?” Xing Ning exploded, his voice trembling with fury. “It’s because we can die that it has meaning!” He gestured wildly at himself. “Look at me! Look at me, Kang Wen! I’m dead! I’m dead… and I came back like this!”

His voice dropped, heavy with accusation. “What did they promise you? What was worth betraying your own sect? Have you no shame?”

“I am ashamed!” Kang Wen shouted, his composure finally shattering.

He fell to his knees.

“They promised…” His voice softened, hollow and distant. “They promised a world where everyone could cultivate. A fair chance at immortality for all.” His hands trembled as he spoke. “They promised a paradise… the return of an age where immortals filled the stars… a universe where true cultivation thrived.”

He lowered his head.

“I was tempted,” he admitted quietly. “And I did what I did. I have no excuse.”

Slowly, he stretched out his arms.

“Please,” he said. “Give me my punishment.”

The moment hung heavy.

Xing Mei stepped forward, her sword sliding free from its sheath with a sharp, ringing sound.

Before she could act, Kang Kong rushed between them, his face pale with desperation. “Wait!” he pleaded, spreading his arms wide as if to shield Kang Wen. “Please, don’t do this!”

Murmurs spread like ripples through still water.

Some of the cultivators looked at Kang Wen with sympathy, others with anger, but more and more of their gazes began to drift toward me. I could feel it in the shift of their expressions, the subtle tightening of their posture.

“If what he said is true…”

“He can defy life and death…”

“What does that make him…?”

Their voices were hushed, but the weight behind them was not. The moment they understood, even partially, that I could bring back the dead, something changed. Reverence, fear, suspicion… it all blended into something unstable.

Xu Ping’s voice cut through it all.

“SILENCE!”

The pressure behind his words crushed the rising noise instantly, forcing the gathering back into uneasy quiet.

I stepped forward.

“Let me inflict the punishment,” I said.

Every eye turned to me.

Xing Mei hesitated. The conflict in her eyes was clear. It was filled with grief, anger, doubt, all warring within her. Before she could speak, Xu Ping gave a slow nod.

“I see no issue with it,” he said evenly.

Xing Mei closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, resolve settling in. “Very well… I agree.”

Kang Kong looked between us, his expression torn, but when I approached, he stepped aside.

I stopped in front of Kang Wen.

For a moment, I said nothing.

‘I am the balance.’

That was what I had once thought.

Now, standing before a man who had fought for his sect for years, who had broken under the weight of something I had unknowingly shown him, I realized how hollow that belief had been. I had not balanced anything. I had simply tipped scales without understanding their weight.

A familiar voice slithered through my mind.

‘You don’t have it in you,’ the monster whispered, amused. ‘In the end, you are nothing more than a hypocrite.’

I didn’t argue.

I had always known that.

Hypocrisy was not something I could escape. It was part of being mortal, wanting justice, yet bending it when it suited us. I had made peace with that long ago.

Behind me, Xing Ning spoke, his voice quieter now, tinged with something heavy. “He kept the sword with him all this time… because of guilt. He couldn’t make peace with what he did.”

There was a pause.

“Mother… Senior Wo Li… is it alright if I decide his punishment?”

I glanced at him.

Despite his current form, despite everything, there was sincerity in his expression, something steady, something resolved.

I exhaled softly. “I have no problem with it.”

Xing Mei followed after a brief moment. “Neither do I.”

Xing Ning turned toward me and, to my surprise, lowered himself into a kowtow. “Thank you.”

Then he faced Kang Wen.

“Kang Wen,” he said, his voice firm despite its ghostly echo, “from this day forward, you are exiled. You are to leave and never appear before us again.”

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd.

“That’s it?”

“Exile?”

“After everything he’s done?”

Kang Wen himself trembled, his head snapping up in disbelief. “No… that’s not enough,” he said hoarsely. “Please—punish me properly. I deserve more than this.”

I spoke before Xing Ning could respond. “The decision has been made.”

Kang Wen looked at me, desperation etched into his face.

“You must go.”

The words fell like a final verdict.

Slowly, his strength seemed to drain from him. He lowered his head, his shoulders slumping, and said nothing more. Around us, the gathering remained tense, unsettled. The funeral had lost its shape, its purpose fractured by everything that had transpired. Yet the heaviness lingered, thicker than before.

I turned away.

This… this was exactly why I should not involve myself too deeply. Every time I stepped in, I disrupted something I did not fully understand. Perhaps it would be better to keep my distance… to act, but not remain.

A flutter of wings broke through my thoughts.

An owl descended from the sky, landing lightly nearby.

Willow.

She looked at me, her golden eyes sharp. “I have good news.”

That caught my attention.

For all my efforts, tracking Lu Jing had been anything but easy. Even knowing he was within the Serenity Lake Domain, even with the aid of the Willow Order and the countless eyes of the forest, he had remained elusive. He was lying low, gathering strength.

The question was how long it would take before he returned to his peak.

Willow spoke again. “We have found signs of the Lu Jing you are searching for.”

I nodded once.

Then I turned back briefly to the others. “I have somewhere else to be,” I said, excusing myself without further explanation.

Without waiting for a response, I stepped away, already knowing where I needed to go next.