Immortal Druid

[POV: Nascent Soul/s]

Something strange was happening.

Liao Shui had sensed it the moment the battlefield vanished.

One heartbeat earlier, he had been soaring above the forest alongside the other Nascent Soul bodyguards, watching Lady Jin Hong clash against the mysterious Immortal who had dared to ambush their procession. Spiritual arts had torn the heavens apart, while torrents of flame and light illuminated the sea of trees beneath them. Then reality fractured without warning. The next instant, he found himself standing alone beneath the forest canopy, surrounded by towering ancient trees and suffocating silence.

The sudden displacement chilled him.

Far away, Shao Huang experienced the same bewilderment.

The Nascent Soul warrior frowned deeply as he glanced around the unfamiliar forest. He vividly remembered remaining in the skies only moments ago, observing the battle between Lady Jin Hong and the enemy Immortal. Finding himself stranded on the forest floor could only mean one thing.

A terrifying illusion had ensnared him.

His jaw tightened.

Spiritual sense erupted from his body like an invisible tidal wave, sweeping through every direction. It stretched across the forest, probing every trunk, every boulder, and every blade of grass.

He found nothing.

Not a single ally.

Not a single enemy.

The silence itself felt unnatural.

"I refuse to believe this!"

Without hesitation, Shao Huang shot toward the heavens. As long as he rose above the canopy, he could locate the others and regroup.

He never made it.

The instant his body neared the thick blanket of leaves overhead, countless thorn-covered vines exploded downward from the concealed branches. They struck with frightening speed, wrapping around his arms, waist, and legs before he could react.

"What—AAAHHHH! GET OFF ME! GET THEM OFF!"

His Nascent Soul spiritual power surged violently.

The vines did not move.

Instead, they tightened.

Bones groaned beneath the impossible pressure.

Then the thorns came.

Hundreds of black thorns erupted from every vine simultaneously, punching through flesh as though it were wet paper. Blood sprayed across the leaves while razor-edged foliage sliced into his exposed skin, carving dozens of fresh wounds with every desperate struggle.

"NO! PLEASE! STOP! AAAAAAHHH!"

Panic overwhelmed him.

He immediately activated the innate spatial movement unique to Nascent Soul cultivators.

Nothing happened.

His spiritual power flowed normally, yet the teleportation simply refused to activate, as though the surrounding space itself had been sealed.

A shadow passed overhead.

Then another.

The sky darkened.

A murder of crows descended upon him.

Thousands of black beaks pecked into his face, eyes, throat, and exposed flesh. Wings battered his body while claws dug into his skin. Every attempt to scream only allowed more birds to force themselves into his mouth.

His cries gradually faded beneath endless cawing.

...

Among Lady Jin Hong's security detail stood twelve Nascent Soul cultivators.

Every one of them was a master puppet cultivator whose techniques had been refined over centuries. Each had earned absolute trust from the Immortal they served.

Some outsiders questioned why an Immortal required bodyguards at all.

Those people simply did not understand Immortals.

Against ordinary cultivators, an Immortal stood beyond challenge.

Against another Immortal...?

Every advantage mattered.

Every additional formation, every loyal subordinate, and every hidden trump card represented another chance to survive a battle that could determine the fate of entire sects.

That was why powerful Immortals established organizations.

That was why they nurtured loyal followers.

Strength alone had never been enough.

...

Liao Shui slowly withdrew an instant communication talisman from his storage ring.

The yellow paper ignited between his fingers.

"Everyone, report your location immediately. This is Liao Shui. Does anyone hear me?"

The talisman burned rapidly.

Just before it completely turned to ash, a frantic voice finally answered.

"AAAHHH! HELP ME! SOMEBODY SAVE ME! PLEASE!"

Liao Shui's pupils contracted.

"Shao Huang? What's happening? Speak clearly!"

"PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! MERCY! SOMEONE—"

The voice stopped. Only violent cawing echoed through the talisman, and then the paper crumbled into ash. Liao Shui remained frozen for several breaths. His instincts screamed that something unimaginably dangerous lurked inside this forest.

Unlike Shao Huang, he reacted immediately.

His storage ring flashed repeatedly.

One puppet after another emerged in orderly formation until a full hundred surrounded him in perfect defensive circles. Each puppet represented one component of the Immortal Slaying Formation. Each had been personally refined using priceless materials suitable even for serving Immortals.

Liao Shui gazed upon the elite puppets standing motionless before him, hoping the sight would bring reassurance. It did not. Not in the slightest. He kept every puppet close, refusing to advance even a single step. If hidden traps riddled the forest ahead, remaining stationary seemed the wiser choice.

Yet as minutes stretched slowly into hours, a grim realization crept into his mind. Doing nothing would eventually kill him just as surely as any trap. He needed information. With a steadying breath, he reached for another communication talisman.

"This is Liao Shui. Respond immediately! Is anyone alive?"

The paper burst into flames, and a voice answered almost instantly.

"PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!"

Another voice cut in desperately.

"I DON'T WANT TO GO INTO THE TREE! NO! NO! AAAAAAH!"

The transmission ended abruptly, leaving only drifting ash. Liao Shui’s face tightened as he withdrew another talisman, then another. Again and again, he contacted every member of the escort. Each response was worse than the last.

"The crows... the crows are wearing shadows!"

"The trees are breathing! They're watching me!"

"Somebody cut me loose! Please! Please! I can't feel my legs!"

"Don't let the shadows touch you! DON'T LOOK DOWN!"

"There are eyes inside the bark! They're still alive! THEY'RE STILL ALIVE!"

"Mother... I'm sorry..."

"I don't want to die..."

Their voices grew increasingly incoherent. Some laughed hysterically, others sobbed uncontrollably, and many simply begged for mercy from enemies that never answered. Liao Shui could do nothing but listen in helpless silence.

By the time the final transmission faded and silence returned, more than twenty communication talismans had turned to ash. Cold sweat soaked through his robes. His hands trembled uncontrollably. Though he had barely known most of those cultivators, since the nature of their work seldom allowed for friendship, they still had fought beneath the same banner and shared the same oath. They were comrades.

Listening helplessly as each one slipped into madness steadily crushed what remained of his courage.

Eventually, Liao Shui forced himself to move. Remaining where he was would accomplish nothing. He sent his hundred puppets outward in scouting formations, all while maintaining their spiritual links to him. Cautiously, he followed behind them, every step measured and every breath restrained.

Hours passed. One by one, the puppets began to vanish. Some were dragged underground by violent roots that burst from the earth without warning. Others were torn apart by enormous flocks of crows that descended like living shadows. Several simply walked into patches of unnatural darkness and never emerged again, their spiritual connections severed in an instant. The number protecting him dwindled steadily.

One hundred.

Ninety-three.

Eighty-one.

Sixty-seven.

Fifty-two.

Despite the mounting losses, a stubborn spark of hope refused to die within him. Lady Jin Hong still lived. She had to. More importantly, the four Soul Transformation servants under her direct command surely remained alive as well. Cultivators of that realm could not possibly perish so easily. As long as they could reunite, there was still a chance.

Then a weak voice drifted into his ears through a faint sound transmission.

"Liao... Shui... save... me..."

His head snapped toward the source. "Duan Chang?"

The voice came again, trembling with agony.

"Please..."

Without hesitation, Liao Shui rushed forward.

After pushing through tangled vines, he finally discovered her.

Duan Chang leaned weakly against the base of a colossal tree. Blood covered her robes, while countless wounds scarred her body. Her breathing was shallow, and her complexion had turned frighteningly pale.

"Sister Duan! Hold on! You'll survive this!"

He hurried toward her, already retrieving a precious healing talisman from his storage ring.

"I'm here. Stay strong. I'll heal your injuries immediately."

He stopped abruptly. His blood froze in his veins.

Behind the wounded woman, embedded within the enormous tree itself, was an eye. It was a living human eye. It stared directly at him. Around it, the bark had fused with flesh, while countless vines burrowed deep into what had once been a human body. Recognition struck him like lightning.

That… that was the real Duan Chang. Her soul still lingered inside the tree.

The figure before him had never been her.

By the time the horrifying realization dawned, it was already too late. His own shadow suddenly rose from the ground like a living thing.

Crack!

Both of his legs shattered simultaneously.

"AAAAAHHH!"

He collapsed face-first onto the forest floor, screaming in agony.

From every direction came the familiar, mocking cawing.

"Caw."

"Caw."

"Caw."

The false Duan Chang smiled sweetly. Her body burst apart into countless black crows that exploded outward, only to immediately swarm back toward him in a frenzied, shrieking storm of wings and shadows.

At the same moment, thorn-covered vines erupted from beneath the earth, wrapping tightly around his arms, chest, and neck while his own shadow restrained every remaining movement.

Liao Shui struggled with all his remaining strength.

Nothing moved.

The murder of crows lurking in the shadows descended all at once in a feast of blood.

"NO! PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! LADY JIN HONG! SAVE ME! PLEASE! PLEASE!"

His final scream echoed through the endless forest before being swallowed by countless caws.

…

..

.

[POV: Left Foot]

Under Lady Jin Hong served four loyal retainers known collectively as the Four Limbs. Each wore a white veil over their face, with black characters embroidered upon it that represented their namesake.

Left Foot was the youngest among them, and by far the least respected. Lady Jin Hong had kept him at her side largely because of his handsome appearance and his innate shape-shifting ability, allowing him to become whatever companion she desired. His senior brothers never bothered to hide their disdain, treating him as little more than a decorative servant rather than a true cultivator. For years, Left Foot had silently endured their contempt. Now, standing within the mysterious forest, he believed fate had finally presented him with the opportunity to prove them wrong.

The strange forest that had dragged every cultivator from the skies could only have been the work of an enormous formation.

Had he been alone with no responsibilities, Left Foot would have immediately searched for the Gate of Life and escaped the formation before it fully activated. Every Soul Transformation cultivator understood the principles behind large-scale formations. No matter how complex they appeared, every formation possessed flaws waiting to be exploited.

Today, however, was different.

This was his proving ground.

If the enemy had constructed such an elaborate trap, then its master could not have wandered far. Rather than searching for an exit, Left Foot calmly advanced through the silent forest, intending to hunt down the one responsible.

He had briefly considered flying above the canopy.

That thought disappeared the moment he witnessed a Nascent Soul cultivator attempt exactly that.

The unfortunate man never even breached the leaves before countless thorn-covered vines erupted from above, tearing him into bloody fragments that rained back onto the forest floor.

Left Foot wisely abandoned the idea.

He continued walking until something caught his attention.

A severed head rested beneath an ancient tree.

The body belonging to it had long since been shredded beyond recognition, leaving torn flesh and broken bones scattered across the surrounding roots.

He studied the face for several moments before remembering the man's identity.

Shao Huang.

"Caw."

"Caw."

"Caw."

Left Foot slowly lifted his gaze.

Dozens of crows perched upon the surrounding branches. Every pair of crimson eyes stared directly at him without blinking. For reasons he could not explain, the birds unsettled him far more than the corpse beneath his feet.

Their gazes were... too intelligent.

They watched him less like animals observing prey and more like soldiers awaiting orders.

Left Foot folded one hand behind his back.

"So then," he said calmly, "where is your master hiding?"

The crows merely answered him.

"Caw."

"Caw."

"Caw."

His lips curved into a dismissive smirk.

"I suppose expecting intelligence from birds was asking too much."

His storage ring flashed.

A sword whip unfurled into his grasp, its segmented blade glimmering beneath the dim light filtering through the canopy.

With a violent flick of his wrist, the weapon lashed toward the flock. The sword whip sliced through every crow. Not one of them bled. Instead, their bodies dissolved into writhing shadows before disappearing entirely.

More crows immediately descended from the trees to hundreds, and then thousands. They landed silently upon countless branches, all facing him with identical crimson eyes.

Left Foot frowned.

"...Interesting."

His spiritual senses swept across the enormous murder. Every single crow possessed the aura of a Core Formation cultivator. The sheer number would have terrified even an ordinary Nascent Soul cultivator.

An army of Core Formation beasts capable of coordinated attacks could overwhelm almost any sect.

Unfortunately for whoever commanded them, Left Foot had already stepped into Soul Transformation. Against someone of his realm, Nascent Soul would be easy pickings. Core Formation opponents who could not even employ spatial teleportation were not even worthy of facing him.

Their numbers alone meant nothing.

Left Foot slowly raised his sword whip.

"You have woven impressive illusions," he declared, his voice echoing through the forest. "As for the coward hiding behind them, hear me well. No matter how convincing your tricks may appear, illusions remain illusions. I shall break every one of them before dragging you from whatever hole you've buried yourself in."

The sword whip exploded into motion. Its countless blade segments flashed like silver lightning, carving through the surrounding forest with relentless fury.

Towering trees collapsed one after another, their trunks groaning as branches shattered and leaves scattered in a whirlwind of destruction. Yet before the fallen trunks could even strike the ground, every tree dissolved into swirling black shadows.

The entire forest vanished in an instant, leaving only an eerie void. The crows that had filled the canopy fled skyward in a chaotic storm of wings.

"...What?"

His brows knitted together. Nothing about the scene made sense. His instincts screamed that something had gone terribly wrong. Without hesitation, he expanded his spiritual perception to its absolute limits. Nothing could escape the senses of a Soul Transformation cultivator. Not even those elusive birds.

His eyes locked onto one crow soaring high above where the canopy had been. The sword whip cracked through the air like a striking serpent. Its hooked blade wrapped around the bird before violently dragging it back toward him. He caught it firmly by the neck, noting the fresh cuts that had opened across its body where the whip's blades had sliced through its feathers.

Instead of crying out in pain, the crow spoke directly into his mind, its voice cold and mocking. "You caught the wrong crow."

Left Foot's pupils contracted sharply. In the next instant, the bird melted into living darkness. Its beak split apart, revealing rows of jagged teeth where none should exist. The shadow creature lunged forward and bit deeply into his forearm with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered across the ground.

Left Foot's expression twisted in shock. The bite carried astonishing strength. It was nearly equal to his own. How...?

"Dao Domain—" he began, but he never finished the technique.

A human hand suddenly burst through his mouth from the inside. Blood exploded from his every pore as his eyes widened in utter disbelief.

An illusion. The realization struck him immediately. Gathering every strand of qi remaining within his lungs, he released it in a violent exhalation. The false reality shattered around him, and the true world returned.

Left Foot inhaled sharply.

He attempted once more to unleash his Dao Domain.

Many Soul Transformation cultivators still announced their Dao Domains aloud. Speaking the name sharpened concentration and stabilized the manifestation of one's Dao, especially among those newly advanced into the realm or those whose talent fell short of true geniuses.

His lips parted, but nothing came out. Instead, there was only a wet, choking gurgle. Horror slowly overtook his expression as the terrible truth dawned on him. His throat... it had already been torn open. He looked downward in disbelief. Both of his arms were gone, fresh blood pouring endlessly from the shredded stumps of his shoulders.

Dozens of crows perched quietly around him in a silent, watchful circle. Below his feet, his own shadow had spread into a vast pool of darkness. No, it was no mere shadow. It was a pond of pure oblivion, slowly swallowing everything that touched its surface. His knees had already disappeared beneath it.

Panic overwhelmed him. He desperately tried to transmit the words of his Dao Domain through spiritual sense and sound transmission, but nothing happened. Only then did the full horror sink in: his tongue had been cut out as well.

During that brief moment when he had believed himself trapped inside an illusion, he had never truly escaped reality. While his mind was imprisoned, his body had been mutilated piece by piece. He had already lost.

Moonlight filtered softly through the broken canopy, casting pale beams over the silent forest that watched without mercy as the darkness steadily consumed him.

"Caw. Caw. Caw."

One small crow fluttered gently onto a nearby branch. Compared to the others, she appeared almost adorable. Her tiny head tilted curiously as she regarded him.

"My name is Little Crow," she said politely through sound transmission. "May I ask you something?"

Left Foot stared at her helplessly, unable to move or respond.

"What does it feel like..." She smiled sweetly. "...to die?"

Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. The white veil over his face slipped away, revealing the ugly, contorted features of a dying man.