Immortal Druid

The two women stopped a few paces before me, their expressions solemn, almost reverent, as if they were standing before something far greater than a slightly upgraded tree with decent bark. The old woman lifted her hands and cupped her fist in greeting, her movements steady despite her age, while the younger one mirrored her with a sincerity that felt far too heavy for… well, a tree.

“Senior,” the old woman said, her voice calm and respectful, “this old woman, Li Qing, pays her respects.”

Li Ming followed quickly after, bowing her head. “Senior… thank you for taking me in. The years I spent in your home were the happiest I have ever known. I was able to cultivate in peace, to think for myself, and to discover parts of myself I didn’t even know existed. I will never forget that.”

I listened, or rather, absorbed their words in quiet confusion. Taking her in? Years? I had no memory of any of that. As far as I knew, I had been busy being struck by lightning and figuring out how to be a tree without embarrassing myself.

Li Qing spoke again, her tone softer now. “You also saved my village, and for that, I am eternally grateful. To have known you in this lifetime is a blessing I will carry with me. I will leave the key to the Emerald Verdant Forest with you. From this day forward, only I and Guo Yupin will know where it should be.”

The young woman bowed again, deeper this time. “Thank you, Senior.”

I had absolutely no idea what they wanted from me. I appreciated the company, sure, but this felt… intense. They were pouring gratitude onto me like I had personally solved all their problems, and I couldn’t even remember meeting them. It was like being thanked for a group project I didn’t know I was part of.

Still, they continued.

“We give our thanks,” Li Qing said, her voice carrying a hint of reverence.

“And we pay our respects,” Li Ming added.

They remained like that for a moment before straightening, exchanging one last glance at me, and then turning away. Without hesitation, they left the clearing, their figures gradually disappearing into the distance, leaving only the owl behind.

The owl hopped forward, her golden eyes sharp as she glanced toward the crows perched around me.

“Good work,” she said, nodding slightly. “You’ve guarded the tree well.”

The crows immediately erupted into laughter.

“Guard duty?” one crow cawed mockingly. “We were just hanging around!”

“Yeah,” another added, tilting its head. “And what’s with your beak? It looks weird.”

“Really weird,” a third chimed in.

The owl’s eyes narrowed.

What followed was less of a response and more of a massacre.

She launched herself forward with terrifying precision, wings cutting through the air as she slammed into the nearest crow, sending it tumbling across the ground. Another tried to escape, only to be snatched mid-flight and thrown into one of my branches. Feathers flew. Caws turned into panicked shrieks. It was brutal, efficient, and oddly satisfying to watch.

Within moments, the crows were reduced to a groaning, defeated heap.

“You should pick your battles wisely, little crows.”

The owl turned back to me as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “For everything you’ve done for the forest. We will not forget you. The willow is a symbol of resilience, of rebirth, and of immortality. No matter how many times it is bent or broken, it endures. It adapts. It lives on. In that sense… it suits you.”

I blinked internally. That sounded profound. I had no idea what it meant in my current situation, but it sounded important.

“Thank you for the name you gave me,” she continued. “I will carry it with pride. Speaking of willows, I wish to inform you that I plan to join the Willow Order. It feels… right.”

My memories were a bit fussy, though. She lingered for a moment longer before spreading her wings and taking off, leaving me alone with a pile of battered crows who were slowly recovering their dignity.

I had no clue what she was talking about.

Time passed again, slipping through my awareness without structure or meaning. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Probably more. I stopped trying to measure it. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

The crows stayed. Despite everything, they never really left, and their antics became a constant source of entertainment. They argued, they mocked each other, they occasionally tried to start fights they couldn’t finish, and somehow, they always ended up back on my branches like nothing had happened.

Animals began to appear more frequently as well. They came from nowhere, wandering into the clearing with a strange purpose, leaving behind small offerings such as fruits, stones, and bits of prey, before quietly departing. I didn’t understand it, but I appreciated the gesture.

Around me, life flourished. Grass spread across the once barren ground, shrubs took root, and other plants began to grow, filling the clearing with quiet vitality. As for me, I changed too. My trunk thickened, my branches grew stronger, and my leaves became fuller, healthier.

I was no longer just a cool tree.

I had become… a hunk tree.

Life was good.

Then one day, a kangaroo showed up.

The moment I sensed it, something twisted inside me. It wasn’t the faint familiarity I had felt with the others. This was different. This was dread.

“HELLO!” the kangaroo shouted, its voice booming with ridiculous confidence. “I AM ROO! THE MOST POWERFUL MARTIAL ARTIST IN THE HEAVENS! PRACTITIONER OF THE WAY OF THE BOUND SKY STRIDER!”

Oh no.

No, no, no.

The dread intensified.

“I CHALLENGE YOU!” Roo continued, striking a dramatic pose. “TO A HEART-POUNDING, BLOODY EXCHANGE OF SWEAT AND PASSION!”

I didn’t even get a chance to process that before he leapt at me. The first strike hit my trunk with a solid thud, sending vibrations through my entire being. Bark splintered. Leaves shook loose.

“NO! NOT MY LUSCIOUS LEAVES!” I screamed internally. “PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!”

Roo did not have mercy.

He kept going, hopping around me with absurd agility, his limbs striking again and again as he shaved off bits of bark and sent leaves raining to the ground.

“YES!” he shouted. “THIS SHALL BE MY FIRST VICTORY!”

“You idiot!” one of the crows screeched, diving at him. “Leave the tree alone!”

The rest followed immediately, swarming him in a chaotic flurry of feathers and fury.

“GET HIM!”

“PROTECT THE TREE!”

“STOP HITTING THE TREE!”

“WHO PICKS A FIGHT WITH A TREE?!”

“ARE YOU BRAIN-DEAD?!”

“YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE HANDS!”

“I HAVE HANDS!” Roo protested, flailing wildly as he tried to fend them off. “THEY ARE JUST… DIFFERENT!”

I watched, utterly baffled, as the situation escalated beyond reason. The crows pecked and clawed, forcing Roo to stagger back as he tried to defend himself.

“FOUL PLAY!” Roo shouted, flailing. “THIS IS A ONE-ON-ONE DUEL!”

It didn’t matter.

More animals joined in. A deer charged from the side, knocking him off balance. A boar barreled into him with reckless force. Even smaller creatures joined, nipping and clawing with surprising enthusiasm.

Roo fought back with everything he had.

“I WILL NOT BE DEFEATED!” he bellowed, throwing punches and kicks in every direction. “WITNESS THE TRUE POWER OF THE BOUND SKY STRIDER!”

It was completely and utterly ridiculous.

And yet, as I watched the chaotic brawl unfold around me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this absurd kangaroo might actually be the death of me.

Eventually, the kangaroo left, though not without one last dramatic declaration shouted into the heavens as if the sky itself had been his witness. Peace returned after that, and with it came the slow, steady passage of time. I grew. My trunk thickened, my roots dug deeper, and my branches stretched wider, carrying more leaves than I could have imagined when I was still a scrawny excuse for a tree. Around me, the forest began to take shape, no longer just a lonely clearing but a living, breathing expanse that seemed to grow outward as if drawn by my presence.

Visitors came and went, each leaving behind pieces of a story I couldn’t quite remember but somehow felt connected to. The snake returned from time to time, slithering through the undergrowth with that same calm, knowing gaze.

“The forest is growing,” he would say, coiling lazily near my roots. “It is connecting, weaving itself into something greater. This place… it is becoming a heart.”

I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but I listened anyway. There wasn’t much else for me to do, and his voice carried a certain weight that made it feel important.

The owl came as well, far more often than I expected. She perched on my branches like she owned them, her presence sharp and assured.

“I’ve been recognized,” she said once, her tone carrying a hint of pride. “The Willow Order has acknowledged me as an elder.”

Cool. Good for her. She had my support no matter what.

Sometimes, the kangaroo returned too, dragging along a group of equally loud and equally ridiculous companions.

“THIS,” Roo would declare, pointing dramatically at me, “IS THE OPPONENT I ONCE DEFEATED IN GLORIOUS COMBAT!”

I resisted the urge to correct him, which was not easy, considering I had no way to speak. Dude, I didn’t even remember us fighting. If anything, I remembered you getting absolutely wrecked by birds and whatever else decided to jump in.

Still, I let him have his moment. It clearly meant a lot to him.

The bald man came back as well, though he was far quieter than the rest. He would lean against my trunk, his posture relaxed as he stared up at the sky for long stretches of time. There was a contemplative air about him, as if he were searching for something just out of reach. After a while, he would pull out a broom and start sweeping away the fallen leaves around me with methodical care.

I appreciated that. Maintenance was important.

Other times, Li Ming would visit, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and determination as she spoke.

“I don’t understand why Grandmother insists on this path,” she muttered once, pacing near my roots. “Being a Shén isn’t something I ever asked for.”

I didn’t know what a Shén was, but it sounded like a lot of responsibility. I silently wished her luck.

Even the crows evolved over time. A particularly old one began showing up more frequently, his feathers slightly dull but his presence commanding. He would scold the younger crows relentlessly before settling down to share whatever gossip he had gathered.

“You wouldn’t believe what’s happening beyond the ridge,” he said once, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Absolute chaos.”

I had grown to like them. All of them.

Then one day, she returned.

I recognized her immediately, though it took me a moment to reconcile the image in front of me with the memory I had. The last time I had seen her, she had been naked and desperate. Now, she wore flowing blue robes, her presence calm and radiant. Beside her stood a young boy with sleepy eyes, his small hand held gently in hers.

She smiled as she approached me, her gaze warm.

“This is my son,” she said softly, guiding the boy forward. “Tao Wolong. The life you helped save that fateful day.”

I searched my memories and found nothing, but at this point, that didn’t surprise me anymore.

“And this,” she continued, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder as she introduced me, “is your godfather.”

I felt something stir within me, a strange sense of pride bubbling up despite my confusion.

A godfather.

That sounded… incredibly cool.

Some vague fragment of memory tickled the back of my mind, something about suits, power, maybe a cat sitting ominously on a lap. Should I get a cat? It felt appropriate for the role.

“Pay your respects,” she told the boy gently.

Tao Wolong obeyed, bowing deeply and kowtowing with earnest sincerity. She joined him, their movements forming a small, intimate ceremony that felt both simple and profound.

After they paid their respects, Zhen Ai addressed me.

“Sage Wo Li,” she said, cupping her fist once more, her voice steady and clear, “this humble one, Zhen Ai, humbly offers a dance in your honor, in gratitude for the life you have given and the path you have allowed to continue.”

Unexpectedly, she began to dance.

It was graceful, fluid, each movement carrying a quiet power that stirred the very air around us. The boy tried to mimic her, his smaller frame stumbling through the motions with clumsy enthusiasm that somehow made the moment even more endearing.

At some point, he slowed, his movements faltering as he became mesmerized by her performance. The air shifted, qi gathering and flowing in response to her dance. A soft drizzle began to fall, light and refreshing, and a rainbow stretched faintly across the sky.

As her tempo increased, she shed her human form.

Her robes vanished, her body elongating and twisting as scales replaced skin. In an instant, a dragon soared above me, its form elegant and powerful as it danced through the sky itself.

Zhen Ai.

The name surfaced faintly in my mind, accompanied by a sense of familiarity I couldn’t quite grasp.

She moved with effortless grace, her presence stirring something deep within me, as if responding to a connection I couldn’t remember but still felt. When she returned to the ground, her form shifted back, her clothes reappearing seamlessly from her storage ring as if nothing had happened.

“Mother!” the boy cheered, his eyes shining. “One day, I’ll be able to do that too!”

I silently wished him the best. That seemed like a very ambitious goal.

“We’ve made our home here,” Zhen Ai said, resting a hand against my trunk as the boy leaned against her, his eyes growing heavy. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Not at all. The more, the merrier.

She settled down, holding him close as he drifted off to sleep, his breathing soft and steady.

“The Willow Order has protected me,” she continued quietly. “They’ve gone as far as placing an isolation formation within my skin, ensuring that those who wish me harm cannot find me. So wherever you are… you don’t need to worry.”

Her voice softened further, almost like a lullaby.

“Li Ming has advanced well in her cultivation. Willow has joined the Order, just as she wished. Old Black has taken an interest in art, of all things.” She let out a faint, amused breath. “Guo Yimu is still missing, but… we believe he is alive. That hope alone has brought comfort to many.”

She leaned more fully against me, her presence warm and steady.

“You can rest easy now,” she whispered.

I stood there, silent and unmoving, as I always did.

But for the first time in a long while, I felt… at peace.

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