Immortal Druid

[POV: Mab]

For hundreds of thousands of years, the world had continued to turn upon its axis. Kingdoms rose and crumbled into dust, oceans shifted, mountains weathered beneath the passage of time, and countless civilizations were born only to vanish into forgotten history.

Yet to Mab, the world had never truly changed.

Every dawn resembled the last, every season merely another page in an endless cycle she had already witnessed countless times before. She had spent those immeasurable ages waiting for one person while quietly preparing for the day he would finally arrive.

The greatest burden of her regression had never been the loneliness. It had been the helplessness.

She remembered everything that was destined to happen, every triumph and every calamity that awaited the future, yet possessing that knowledge granted her remarkably little power to alter it.

Whenever she nudged history away from its proper course, destiny merely bent around her interference before inexorably correcting itself. Faces changed. Circumstances shifted. Entire events unfolded differently. Yet the final outcome remained stubbornly identical, as though the world itself refused to acknowledge any future but the one already etched into existence.

That was destiny.

An irresistible current that pulled every soul toward the same inevitable destination.

It was only after Wo Li had appeared before her again that Mab discovered destiny was not truly absolute. He possessed no divine authority over fate, nor did he command some mythical law that surpassed heaven and earth.

Yet whenever he was given the opportunity to act, the impossible quietly became possible.

The current of destiny did not shatter beneath his will. Instead, it shifted ever so slightly, enough for the future to diverge into roads she had never witnessed before. It was a miracle so subtle that no one else would have noticed it, but to someone who had watched history repeat for hundreds of thousands of years, it was nothing less than hope itself.

That hope was precisely why she refused to stop preparing.

Gentle afternoon sunlight filtered through the flowering branches surrounding the pavilion overlooking Hermit Sage Forest. A fragrant breeze stirred the curtains as Mab calmly poured another cup of tea before placing it before the two young Shén seated across from her.

Li Ming accepted the porcelain cup with both hands while Xing Ning inclined his head in gratitude.

"You two carry a responsibility greater than yourselves," Mab said gently as steam curled from her own cup. "The duty of a Shén is not measured by strength alone. One day, you shall walk across the Three Worlds. You shall raise new stars into the heavens to illuminate forgotten skies. You shall lift islands from the earth and breathe life into barren lands. You shall carve new space beneath the world so creation itself may continue to expand."

Her emerald eyes drifted toward the distant horizon where the World Tree towered over creation.

"But creation is only half your burden. The primordial forces beyond this world have never abandoned their hunger. They will seek every opportunity to devour what we have built. When that day comes, it shall be your duty to stand against them."

Li Ming blinked before scratching her cheek sheepishly.

"I don't really understand everything you're saying," she admitted with an embarrassed smile. "But... I'll do my best."

Xing Ning chuckled softly beside her.

"I think you're worrying too much, Sister Mab. We don't have to understand everything right now. We just need to become stronger. If we keep improving ourselves, everything else should naturally become clearer."

Mab smiled faintly, though a complicated emotion lingered behind her expression.

Had this been the previous timeline, she would never have gathered them here.

Neither she nor her sisters had viewed the Shén favorably. The wounds left behind by history had run too deep. It had been the failure of the Shén that allowed countless primordial influences to seep into this world. Their negligence had birthed unimaginable suffering, plunging civilization after civilization into despair.

Yet irony had always possessed a cruel sense of humor.

Without that catastrophe, the Destiny Sisters would never have been born. Without the Destiny Sisters, Wo Li would never have arrived. History was a tapestry woven from countless tragedies that somehow produced miracles.

"What matters more than your cultivation realm," Mab continued, setting down her teacup with quiet resolve, "is insight."

The pair straightened immediately.

"You possess authority over creation itself. Power alone cannot guide such authority. You must understand what it means to create, to nurture, and to preserve. Only through genuine insight into creation will you become worthy of your divine authority. That is the path I intend to teach both of you."

Months of lessons had already been prepared within her mind. Every mistake from the previous timeline had been carefully studied, corrected, and transformed into guidance she intended to pass onto the next generation.

Unfortunately, destiny rarely waited for convenient moments.

A deafening bell echoed throughout Hermit Sage Forest. Its solemn toll was immediately followed by frantic voices erupting from countless sound transmission talismans.

"We're under attack!"

"Poison! Poison in the air!"

"Enemies have infiltrated the forest!"

"They're everywhere!"

Mab's serene expression vanished.

Within her divine perception, countless life signatures dimmed simultaneously before disappearing altogether. The deaths multiplied so rapidly that even she felt her heart tighten.

She rose from her seat in a single motion.

"Stay here," Mab ordered firmly. "Neither of you is to leave this pavilion until I return."

Before either Shén could respond, her figure dissolved into countless emerald motes.

She reappeared above Freedom City.

Chaos had already consumed the streets.

Men, women, children, spirit beasts, and even towering ancient trees collapsed one after another as a strange violet haze spread through the city. The poison ignored cultivation, infiltrating lungs and bloodstreams with horrifying efficiency.

Mab stretched out her hand.

Verdant flames erupted from every direction.

Unlike ordinary fire, the emerald inferno carried no heat. It swept through the poisoned atmosphere like a cleansing tide, reducing every trace of corruption into harmless motes of light. Wherever the flames passed, the choking haze dissolved completely as survivors gasped desperately for fresh air.

She did not linger.

The moment Freedom City stabilized, she vanished once more.

Leafhome City awaited.

There, the situation proved no better.

Entire districts had collapsed beneath the poisonous assault while healers desperately exhausted their spiritual energy attempting to save victims whose bodies continued deteriorating faster than they could heal them.

Mab raised both hands.

Another sea of emerald purification flames descended from the heavens.

The corrupted air evaporated almost instantly, restoring clean winds across the city as countless citizens drew ragged breaths.

"It... it's gone..."

"We're saved!"

"The poison disappeared!"

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Before relief could spread further, a desperate cry erupted from atop the city's wooden palisade.

"It's an invasion!"

Mab immediately turned toward the forest beyond the walls. Her expression hardened. An endless army marched between the ancient trees. Every soldier possessed lifeless eyes and rigid movements.

It was an army of puppets. Thousands upon thousands of them. Each radiated the unmistakable spiritual pressure of a Core Formation cultivator.

Above the advancing legion floated enormous flying ships adorned with banners she did not recognize. Powerful formations shimmered beneath their hulls while numerous Nascent Soul cultivators stood upon their decks, calmly overlooking the battlefield below like predators observing trapped prey.

A ripple distorted the sky.

An elderly man materialized before Mab with his hands folded behind his back. His robes bore intricate heavenly patterns embroidered in gold, and the immense pressure rolling from his body far surpassed the cultivators surrounding him.

He offered a courteous bow.

"I am Yu Gan, Sect Leader of the Heavenly Domain Sect."

His gaze calmly swept across Mab before settling upon her with a faint smile.

"Fairy Queen... your reputation has traveled farther than you realize. Beautiful, respectable, and mighty in your own right. It would be a shame for such elegance to perish beneath unnecessary bloodshed."

His smile slowly disappeared.

"I have come for only one purpose."

A crushing pressure descended upon the heavens.

"Submit."

His voice echoed across the battlefield with unquestionable authority.

"Do not mistake courage for wisdom, Fairy Queen. Be not reckless. Consider your choice carefully."

His eyes turned cold.

"Bend the knee..."

The immense fleet behind him illuminated with countless formation arrays.

"...or be destroyed."

…

..

.

[POV: Guo Yimu]

A chill of dread ran through Guo Yimu’s spine the moment he looked down from his flying sword.

"Not again."

Below the mountain, a black tide of puppets had already gathered around the forest, their stiff limbs moving with horrifying coordination as cultivators rode on swords just behind them like smug shepherds guiding livestock to slaughter.

A few of those lifeless things had already broken through the outer defenses and were pressing toward the rebuilt slopes of the Serenity Cliff Sect. The sight struck him so hard that for a moment he could only hover there in disbelief, the wind whipping past him while fury slowly replaced shock.

“The mountain was just rebuilt, damn it!”

The sect had barely finished recovering from its last devastation, and now another invasion had come crashing down upon them as though the heavens had grown bored of their suffering.

Guo Yimu drove his sword downward and landed in the main pavilion with a hard step. The moment his boots touched the floor, he saw his grandfather already donning armor with the help of several attendants, his aged face set in grim determination. Nearby, Guo Yuti stood stiff with alarm, while Guo Yume paced like a caged beast, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked as though his teeth might crack.

“We should flee!” Guo Yuti cried out, his voice strained with urgency.

Guo Yimu shook his head at once. “We can’t. They dammed the river just now. I already had my first mate retreat with the ships, along with whatever passengers they could harry aboard for evacuation.”

His brother’s face paled further, but Guo Yume suddenly straightened, his eyes blazing with stubborn pride.

“We must make a stand,” he declared. “We must display our bravery and fight them off.”

Guo Yuti let out a strangled sound. “But Father, we’re clearly outnumbered.”

For once, Guo Yimu found himself in complete agreement with his brother.

He rarely sided with Guo Yuti on matters of temperament, yet this was not the time for blind valor. He stepped forward and spoke quickly, forcing the words out before panic could take hold of the room.

“We can still evacuate through the gate array in Hermit Sage Forest. We need to muster our forces, break through the enemy line, and make our way there as quickly as possible.”

Guo Yupin finished fastening the final piece of his armor before lifting his head. His old gaze was calm, but the heaviness in it made the room feel smaller.

“You speak sense, grandson,” he said. “However, we are utterly surrounded, and the cultivators arrayed against us far outmatch the numbers we can bring to bear. I must create a distraction with the help of the elders of the sect. The rest of you will divide into smaller units and escape with the disciples.”

Guo Yimu and Guo Yuti both stepped forward at once, ready to protest, but Guo Yume cut them off with a furious bark.

“Not a word more!” he roared. “Your grandfather has already expressed his resolve! Don’t taint his fighting spirit with your babble!”

Outside, the chaos only intensified.

Voices screamed in terror. Others cried out in agony. Somewhere beyond the walls, people shouted warnings that the enemy had already broken through, while fresh shrieks rose and vanished beneath the clamor of battle. The sound of dying men and collapsing defenses filled the pavilion with a dreadful sense of finality, as though the entire sect were being crushed beneath a fist from the sky.

Guo Yimu gripped the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.

There was no more room for hesitation.

He turned sharply toward the others. If they were going to survive this, they would need to move now.

...

..

.

[POV: Li Qing]

Li Qing’s voice cut through the panic with the force of a drawn blade.

“Gather on me! The Willow Order’s highest priority is to protect the Shén and escort them to the spatial gate array!”

The command snapped the gathered cultivators out of their fear. One by one, they tightened formation and began moving as she led them beyond Leafhome City, her sword carrying her through the air with ruthless speed. Beneath them, the city trembled beneath the growing weight of invasion, and every instinct in her screamed to turn back and fight for every street.

She did not.

There was no time for pride. There was only survival, and every decision now had to be made with cold precision if they were to reduce casualties as much as possible.

She landed at the outskirts long enough to issue the next order, her voice hard and unyielding.

“Civilians and cultivators, listen carefully. Do not resist. Only those at Core Formation and above will come with me. The rest will remain behind and manage the transition of power if the occupation succeeds. Restrain yourselves. Don’t bloody this place you call home.”

The words hurt as she said them.

Li Qing knew how cruel that sounded. She knew the fear in the eyes of the people who heard her and understood all too well the bitterness of telling others to remain behind when enemies were already at the gates. Yet the Heavenly Domain Sect was still, by every public measure, part of the orthodox righteous path. They would not slaughter without reason. If Leafhome City surrendered its lower forces and maintained order, far fewer lives would be lost when the dust settled.

That did not make the order easier to bear.

It only made it necessary.

Soon after, Li Qing led the selected group into the sky. Their swords became streaks of light as they raced toward the main pavilion, where the Shén had been sheltered. The closer they came, the more the atmosphere sharpened with danger. Windows rattled. Spiritual pressure shook the air. The scent of blood and poison drifted through the wind.

When they reached the pavilion, Li Ming was already there, pale with alarm.

“Grandmother, what is happening?” she called out.

Beside her, Xing Ning had already drawn his sword. His eyes were narrowed as he watched a cluster of puppets smash through the windows with dead, unfeeling precision.

“We’re under attack,” he said grimly, before stepping forward to intercept them.

His blade flashed once, then again, and the first wave of puppets fell in pieces to the floor. Li Qing did not waste time praising him. She surged into the pavilion and took up position beside the others, already preparing for the next wave. Every breath felt measured. Every second counted.

The enemy had come prepared.

So had she.

...

..

.

[POV: Roo]

Freedom City had become a battlefield of desperate improvisation.

Roo stood at the front of the evacuation line, his signboard clutched in both hands as though it were a proper weapon of war. The kangaroo’s ears were set back, his expression fierce despite the strain in his stance. Around him, civilians huddled in frightened clusters while puppets pressed in from every side, and yet he did not retreat a single step.

“I’m not letting you through!” Roo shouted, slamming the signboard into the nearest puppet and smashing it apart. “Come on, then! I’ll send every last one of you back in pieces!”

His fighting spirit burned bright enough to rally the people nearest to him. Even those too frightened to move found themselves forced onward by the sheer force of his determination.

Tao Wolong arrived soon after, his dragon-inspired martial arts making him a blur of power and disciplined motion as he carved a path through the crowd. He raised his voice while gesturing for the civilians to keep moving.

“Pick up the pace!” he shouted. “Carry the unconscious, and keep the poisoned moving with you! Don’t stop here!”

His words, blunt though they were, snapped several people out of their panic. Merchants, visitors, and local residents alike began lifting the injured, dragging one another forward, and following the path toward the gate array.

Jia Ping moved with far greater precision. She flung needle after needle into the puppets’ joints and weak points, each strike deactivating another machine-like body before it could reach the evacuees. Her hands blurred with practiced speed, and wherever her needles landed, the enemy’s limbs stilled as though their strings had been severed.

By the time they reached the pathway leading to the gate array, more help had already gathered.

Mumu the Emu stood with a wary but determined gaze, while Elder Monke and Buff the Water Buffalo had already taken positions with a collection of beasts, both spiritual and mortal, assisting with evacuation. They formed a rough but effective barrier, clearing space for the wounded and keeping the line moving when panic threatened to halt it.

Roo raised his signboard again and called out with fierce encouragement.

“Keep moving! Nobody falls behind today! If your legs can still carry you, then carry someone else too! We’re getting everyone out of here together!”

The path ahead should have been the end of the crisis.

Instead, it became a source of terror.

A commotion erupted near the cave leading to the gate array. The line had grown long, yet it moved with agonizing slowness, and every person waiting there wore the strained expression of someone clinging to hope by the thinnest thread. Tao Wolong darted forward to check the source of the delay, only to vanish into the crowd as the noise rose around him.

Voices collided in a wave of confusion and fear.

“Move faster!”

“Please, my father can barely walk!”

“Where is the gate array?”

“I heard the array was destroyed!”

“No, that cannot be true!”

“They said the gate array is gone!”

The rumor spread like wildfire.

Panic flooded the line, then turned into full-blown despair as the crowd began to compress and tremble in place. Some people cried. Others argued. A few simply stood frozen, unable to process the possibility that their only escape had already been taken from them.

Tao Wolong returned a moment later, his face ashen and his breathing ragged.

“It’s destroyed!” he blurted out, the panic in his voice confirming the rumor before anyone could even ask. “The gate array is destroyed!”

The despair that followed was immediate and overwhelming.

Jia Ping’s expression hardened so suddenly it seemed to cut through the fear around her. She turned and snapped at Tao Wolong with sharp irritation.

“Then why are you announcing it like that? Do you want to make things worse?”

She exhaled once, then looked to Roo.

“Hold the line here with the others. I’ll see what I can do.”

Roo planted his feet and thumped the signboard against the ground with renewed certainty.

“Leave it to me.”

As if answering him, a darker wave of motion rolled over the horizon.

Puppets marched across the distance in relentless ranks, their movements cold and mechanical, their numbers enough to drown out reason. The sight of them sent another tremor through the gathered civilians, but Roo raised his voice before fear could break the line apart.

“Look at them!” he shouted. “They’re marching all the way over here because they know we’re worth fighting for! So stand tall! If they think they can make us kneel, they’re the ones who are going to learn what stubborn looks like!”

The people around him looked up.

For a moment, the fear did not vanish, but it weakened.

And that was enough to keep them moving.