Immortal Druid

[POV: Right Foot]

The mournful cawing of crows echoed endlessly throughout the forest.

Night had completely claimed the land. Beneath the pale moonlight, Right Foot walked through a trail of destruction. Broken puppets littered the forest floor, their shattered limbs scattered among snapped branches and bloodstained roots. Every wreckage bore signs of desperate resistance. The Nascent Soul cultivators accompanying Lady Jin Hong had clearly fought with everything they have.

Sadly, it had not been enough.

The battle had been hopelessly one-sided.

Right Foot silently surveyed the remains before withdrawing his gaze. His spiritual senses remained fixed upon the distant fluctuations of qi belonging to his master. Lady Jin Hong was still fighting. Every clash of Immortal qi reverberated through the heavens like rolling thunder.

He walked toward that distant presence one step and another, yet despite traveling for what felt like hours, the distance between himself and Lady Jin Hong never seemed to lessen.

His expression gradually darkened.

The formation around him was far more sophisticated than he had initially believed. Even worse, every attempt to contact the remaining members of the Four Limbs through sound transmission had ended in silence.

"Lord... Right Foot..."

A weak voice suddenly drifted through the forest.

Right Foot immediately halted.

Leaning against the base of a massive tree was a bloodied cultivator whose robes had long since been soaked crimson. It was Liao Shui, one of the Nascent Soul puppet masters. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he painfully raised his head.

"Lord... Right Foot... please... save me..."

Right Foot did not move closer.

Instead, he calmly studied the man's miserable appearance.

Liao Shui stretched out a trembling hand.

"Please... don't leave me..."

Right Foot's voice remained calm.

"Have you seen the others among the Four Limbs?"

Liao Shui shook his head weakly.

"I... I burned so many instant communication talismans... more than twenty... none of them answered... I... I think... everyone is already dead..."

Right Foot narrowed his eyes.

"My lady. Which direction did she go? Did you encounter the enemy responsible for this formation?"

Liao Shui's face twisted with despair.

"I don't know... please... save me... please..."

Silence followed.

Right Foot never approached. The instant he laid eyes upon Liao Shui, he knew that something was wrong with him. Without another word, his storage ring flashed, and a long silver spear materialized in his grasp. He lunged forward, the spear splitting the air with blinding speed.

Just before the blade could pierce Liao Shui’s throat, a massive shadowy tentacle erupted from beneath the earth and slammed into the spear with tremendous force.

Boom!

The illusion shattered.

Liao Shui's body burst apart into countless black crows that scattered into the air.

"Caw!"

"Caw!"

"Caw!"

The crows circled above him, their voices entering his mind through sound transmission.

"This shall be your grave."

"There is no escape."

"You will become one with the forest."

Right Foot slowly lowered his spear.

His sharp eyes swept across the enormous murder.

"...I see."

The true crows had hidden themselves among an innumerable host of illusions. Every false crow perfectly concealed a real one. Finding the genuine targets among so many identical projections would take precious time.

Ordinarily, he would have pursued them immediately. However, he did not. Instead, his gaze slowly drifted downward, toward the countless shadows stretching beneath every tree.

Something inside those shadows disturbed him.

Right Foot possessed an extraordinary sensitivity toward killing intent. After countless years spent on battlefields, he had awakened a rare instinct known as Danger Sense, allowing him to perceive threats invisible to ordinary cultivators.

The shadows possessed intent.

It was neither overwhelming nor murderous. If anything, they were like the faintest whisper. So subtle that another cultivator would dismiss it as nothing more than the chill of the night breeze.

However, Right Foot knew better.

Those shadows were alive, and they wanted him dead.

Without disturbing the darkness beneath his feet, he bent his knees before leaping gracefully into the air. He hovered only several meters above the ground, remaining safely beneath the forest canopy.

The shadows struck immediately.

Dozens of black tendrils shot upward from the earth. Right Foot’s spear danced like flowing water, every thrust, every sweep, and every rotation executed with flawless precision. Each shadow was deflected before it could reach him.

Then another danger emerged. Hidden among the dense branches overhead, thorn-covered vines lashed toward his blind spots from every direction. Neither the shadows nor the vines carried any killing intent. It was an absence that made them infinitely more dangerous. Even Right Foot nearly failed to react in time. Only years of relentless training and instincts sharpened through countless life-and-death battles allowed him to twist aside at the final moment. The thorny vines narrowly grazed his robes before whipping harmlessly past.

His eyes sharpened.

The tip of his spear glowed with icy radiance.

"Frozen Heaven Spear Art—First Form: Glacier's Fang."

The spear thrust forward.

A pillar of freezing qi erupted from its tip, instantly coating the surrounding vines in thick crystalline ice.

Without pausing, Right Foot opened his mouth.

"Frozen Heaven Breath."

A tremendous torrent of frost poured from Right Foot’s lungs. The bitter cold swept across the surrounding forest, freezing the ground, trees, shadows, and vines alike beneath thick layers of shimmering ice.

Silence returned.

Right Foot descended lightly onto the frozen earth and stood perfectly still, his spear resting at his side while his thoughts raced. Finding Lady Jin Hong alone was no longer realistic. His greatest priority now was reuniting with the remaining members of the Four Limbs. They had been separated, and each of them would eventually be hunted down. He was surrounded. Nowhere remained safe.

A gentle feminine voice suddenly drifted across the frozen clearing.

"You’ve become rather impatient," the voice said softly. "But don’t worry any longer. I shall take care of you."

Right Foot’s eyes snapped toward the source. A woman stepped gracefully from between the frozen trees, wearing robes of silver and blue that fluttered gently despite the still air. As her sword slowly left its scabbard, countless silver butterflies formed from pure sword intent danced around her elegant figure.

Right Foot’s pupils narrowed. Nascent Soul. That was unquestionably her cultivation realm. It was inferior to his cultivation, yet he could feel genuine danger from her. His gaze instinctively fell upon her shadow. Something moved within it.

Something… alive.

The woman slowly raised her sword.

"It took some time preparing myself, both mentally and physically," she said, smiling faintly. "But now... I'm ready."

She pointed her sword directly at him. "I am Xing Mei, Sect Leader of the Steel Sky Sect. I challenge you to combat."

Right Foot laughed aloud. "What an amusing little fool." He casually twirled his spear. "A mere Nascent Soul cultivator dares challenge a Soul Transformation cultivator?"

His laughter gradually faded as something changed. The danger suddenly multiplied.

Xing Mei briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them, her pupils had turned completely black. Her shadow vanished, and whatever had been squirming within it now lingered around her very existence. The silver butterflies circling her transformed one by one. Their brilliant radiance disappeared, and every butterfly became pitch black. The surrounding world seemed to dim.

Xing Mei quietly raised her sword. "Bear witness... to the swordsmanship my precious son created. A sword that shall cut through darkness... with darkness."

Right Foot’s instincts exploded with alarm. He slammed his spear into the frozen earth.

"Dao Domain: Thousand Frost Valleys!"

An endless blizzard erupted outward. The surrounding forest instantly transformed into a world of frozen valleys and towering glaciers stretching beyond the horizon. Snow descended endlessly from the heavens. Everything froze. Everything became white.

Yet the falling snow gradually darkened. White turned to gray, and gray became black. Every snowflake transformed into drifting shadows. The magnificent frozen valleys twisted before his eyes. The glaciers blackened. Mountains became silhouettes of darkness.

His Dao Domain… was being consumed.

Xing Mei gently raised her sword. "Return to nothing."

No grand slash appeared. No brilliant sword light crossed the battlefield. Everything simply… stopped.

Right Foot blinked. "W-What… was that?"

Xing Mei lowered her sword. Blood spilled from the corner of her lips as she quietly exhaled, coughing another mouthful onto the frozen ground.

"A glimpse… at the pinnacle of martial arts," she said, her voice remaining calm despite her injuries. "It lasted only an instant. But even borrowing that power… allowed me to witness that world."

Right Foot slowly looked downward. The entire right half of his body had disappeared. There was neither blood nor wound on his person as though existence itself had quietly erased everything from the center of his body outward.

His spear slipped from his remaining hand and struck the frozen earth with a dull clang.

Xing Mei wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. "Farewell."

The light within Right Foot’s remaining eye slowly faded. Moments later, his body collapsed lifelessly onto the frozen ground.

…

..

.

[POV: Left Hand]

Lady Jin Hong had always praised Left Hand for being the smartest among the Four Limbs. Left Hand never agreed with that assessment. If anything, he preferred to think of himself as cunning. Otherwise, implying shrewdness. The distinction mattered. It had kept him alive for centuries.

"Lord Left Hand… help me…"

The desperate cry drifted through the forest. Left Hand stopped. Leaning against the trunk of an ancient tree stood one of the Nascent Soul puppet masters who had accompanied Lady Jin Hong’s entourage. His robes were drenched in blood, his breathing ragged as he stretched out a trembling hand.

"Please… I don’t want to die…"

Left Hand sighed. “Don’t you ever tire of repeating the same trick?”

Before the illusion could answer, his sword left its sheath. A streak of silver flashed through the darkness, and the figure split apart. Instead of flesh and blood, countless black crows burst outward from the severed illusion, scattering in every direction.

This was hardly the first illusion he had encountered. He already knew how to answer them.

"Dao Domain: Heavenly Thunder Cremation."

Thunder erupted across the heavens. Dark clouds instantly swallowed the moon as countless pillars of heavenly lightning descended into the forest. Every crow caught within the domain exploded into black smoke. The deafening rumble lingered long after the final bolt vanished.

Left Hand released a slow breath. Maintaining a Dao Domain consumed tremendous quantities of spiritual power, especially one’s mental strength. Using it recklessly would only hasten his death.

His gaze returned to the tree. Placing one hand against the bark, he expanded his spiritual perception. There was someone inside. Without hesitation, he cut the trunk apart.

The tree split open. Hidden within the wood lay the corpse of the genuine Nascent Soul cultivator, its body completely entwined by vines. The instant the corpse became exposed, thorn-covered tendrils lashed toward him from every direction.

Sword intent erupted. Countless silver arcs swept across the clearing, and every vine fell apart before reaching him.

Left Hand sheathed his sword. He crouched beside the corpse and searched its belongings, ignoring the medicinal pills, spirit stones, and every other treasure. His attention remained fixed on one thing alone, the communication talismans.

Lady Jin Hong forbade every member of the Four Limbs from carrying personal possessions. Everything they owned had either been bestowed by her or approved by her. She disliked servants possessing choices beyond her control. If he had the talismans he wanted in his person, he wouldn't need to labor like this.

The Nascent Soul cultivators carried supplies that the Four Limbs themselves did not. He counted the communication talismans one by one. More than a hundred. It was enough.

The talismans floated into the air before him. With practiced precision, Left Hand rearranged every spiritual inscription. Communication talismans became anchors, wind talismans became fuel, and scrying talismans became guiding eyes. An improvised formation gradually materialized beneath his feet.

One by one, every talisman ignited. Their spiritual power poured into the formation until an enormous web of invisible threads spread throughout the forest.

Left Hand closed his eyes. His consciousness traveled along the countless connections of the formation. Almost immediately, he found Lady Jin Hong. Violent Immortal qi continued shaking the heavens. Lady Jin Hong remained locked in battle against the mysterious ambusher. He immediately withdrew his senses. Interrupting an Immortal during combat would accomplish nothing except inviting disaster.

Instead, he searched for the rest of his contingent. To his surprise, he found none of his fellow cultivators, except Right Hand. This implied they were probably dead, which was not a good start.

Moments later, a connection formed.

"Right Hand," Left Hand called as he watched the man walk between the trees.

The voice answered almost instantly. "Left Hand?"

Relief washed over him. "Only the two of us remain alive. Stay where you are. I’ll come find you."

"I understand. I’ll wait."

The connection disappeared. The improvised formation collapsed, and ash drifted gently through the air where over a hundred talismans had once floated.

Left Hand frowned. His scrying formation had located Lady Jin Hong and Right Hand, yet it had failed to locate even a single enemy. That troubled him more than anything. Nevertheless, reuniting with Right Hand remained his greatest priority. Together, their odds of surviving this nightmare would improve dramatically. Among the Four Limbs, Right Hand possessed the greatest talent. Many believed he stood only one opportunity away from becoming an Immortal himself.

Hours later, Left Hand finally reached the designated location. A lone figure sat cross-legged beneath a towering tree. The familiar white veil bore the embroidered characters, Right Hand.

Before Left Hand could approach further, the seated figure spoke. "Stop."

Left Hand halted immediately.

"If you truly are Left Hand, tell me something only the two of us would know."

Left Hand smiled beneath his veil. "A prudent precaution." He folded his arms. "Do you remember when Lady Jin Hong transformed one of us into a woman before ordering the other to spend the night with them in an intimate fashion?"

A brief silence followed. "Ah, Lady Jin Hong sure enjoyed the show, then," Left Hand chuckled. "So tell me, which one of us was doing the screwing?"

The question served two purposes. It tested memory, and it tested identity. If the figure answered incorrectly, he would attack immediately.

Right Hand suddenly laughed. "Oh, I’m probably the one doing the screwing."

Left Hand tensed.

Then Right Hand continued. "After all, you’ve just entered a Death Gate."

Left Hand’s pupils shrank. Formation. Life Gate. Death Gate. The realization arrived one heartbeat too late.

The seated figure burst apart into countless black feathers. A tiny crow landed where Right Hand had once been. She tilted her head innocently, her crimson eyes curving into cheerful crescents.

"My name is Little Crow," she said sweetly. "You slaughtered many of my brothers and sisters. So I’ll repay you. I’ll take my time."

Left Hand snorted. "A Core Formation beast with borrowed strength. You truly believe that can threaten a Soul Transformation cultivator?"

His tone remained calm, but inside, his heartbeat accelerated.

In formations that manipulated terrain, a Life Gate was the path of escape, the one opening that allowed a trapped cultivator to slip out alive if they found it quickly enough. A Death Gate, by contrast, was the place where the formation’s true killing intent gathered. Stepping into it did not merely block retreat; it triggered the array’s most lethal mechanisms, turning the surrounding land itself into a weapon.

Suddenly, Left Hand doubled over. Blood splashed across the forest floor as dark marks resembling tiny crows appeared beneath his skin, slowly spreading across his arms and neck. They writhed as though alive.

Little Crow watched quietly. “The crows you destroyed never truly died. They became your curse.”

Left Hand laughed despite the pain. Several healing talismans burst into radiant light across his body, and the crawling marks slowed. “You underestimate my will. The trap is rather disappointing.”

Little Crow’s amused tone never changed. “Don't worry. It has only just begun.”

The dark markings pulsed. Left Hand’s expression finally changed. The curse was adapting. It continued consuming his vitality despite every healing talisman he activated.

Without hesitation, he slammed his sword into the earth. “Dao Domain… Heavenly Thunder Cremation!”

The forest disappeared beneath a world of endless storms. Heavenly lightning crashed down continuously. Rather than attacking an enemy, Left Hand directed every bolt into his own body, hoping the overwhelming thunder would destroy the curse before it matured. Lightning engulfed him again and again.

Minutes passed, then dozens. His spiritual sea steadily emptied. Eventually, the storm dispersed. The Dao Domain collapsed, and the forest returned.

Left Hand fell to one knee, breathing heavily.

Little Crow no longer appeared as a small bird. A beautiful young woman now stood quietly before him. She wore no armor, and a single dark wing extended gracefully from behind her back. The strange borrowed power surrounding her had grown richer and denser, as though the curse itself had nourished the being hidden within her.

She looked down at him with quiet pity. “You resisted well,” her voice remained gentle. “Now… die.”

The curse reached its final stage. The crow-shaped marks spread across Left Hand’s entire body before transforming into countless crows that dug their way out of his flesh and erupted outward, carrying away his remaining life force. The crows cawed loudly as they tore his body into tatters. It was an ugly sight, even more so because the person himself could still feel what was happening.

His sword slipped from his fingers. The white veil embroidered with the characters “Left Hand” slowly darkened with blood as it fell beside him. A moment later, his body collapsed motionless upon the forest floor.

Little Crow silently watched for several breaths before turning toward the distant sounds of battle. Without another word, she vanished into a murder of crows.