Immortal Druid

[POV: Guo Yume]

Guo Yume had always been known as one of the foremost swordmasters of the Serenity Cliff Sect. Pride coursed through him as naturally as blood, yet that pride had never been directed solely toward himself.

Throughout his life, he had lived beneath the towering shadow of his father, but he had never once resented it. To him, his father's glory was the Guo family's glory.

Every victory Guo Yupin achieved belonged to all of them. So, when his father ascended to become the Sect Leader of the Serenity Cliff Sect, Guo Yume celebrated with genuine joy. The whispers claiming he would forever remain the Sect Leader's son meant nothing. His father's blood flowed through his veins, and one day, that same blood would continue through his own descendants.

The memory came flooding back with startling clarity.

It had been inside his father's study, where Guo Yupin stood with an infant cradled carefully in his arms. The elder's expression had been gentler than Guo Yume had ever seen before.

“Yume,” Guo Yupin had said softly, “I have a request.”

At the time, Guo Yume had smiled without hesitation.

“Anything, Father.”

His father had carefully placed the infant into his waiting arms.

“I want you to raise this child as your own son. Love him no differently from your own flesh and blood. Guide him, protect him, and show him the path a righteous cultivator should walk.”

Guo Yume had lowered his head to look at the sleeping child nestled against his chest. The infant yawned, utterly unaware of the future being entrusted to another man. His father had already given the boy a name.

“Guo Yimu.”

Back then, Guo Yume had not thought deeply about the request. He had only felt a quiet warmth spread through his chest. As a child, he had always longed for his father's approval, despite the old man never failing to show him affection. The fact that Guo Yupin had entrusted him with something so precious filled him with indescribable pride.

His father needed him.

That single thought had been enough.

As he held the infant, Guo Yume silently vowed that he would never fail his family.

And he never did.

Guo Yuti had been his son by blood.

Guo Yimu had not.

Yet the two boys had grown beneath the same roof, laughing together, training together, fighting together, and protecting one another as though they truly shared the same blood. Guo Yume had never favored one over the other. They had both been his sons.

The memories continued to flash before his eyes.

He watched Guo Yuti and Guo Yimu stumble through their first sword forms beneath the morning sun. He remembered his wife smiling as she watched them from the doorway before age eventually claimed her life. He remembered the grief that settled over their family, the years that slowly eased the pain, and the friendly rivalry that blossomed between the two brothers as they matured into talented cultivators. Every precious memory drifted before him like falling leaves, each one carrying a happiness he had never thought would end.

Then darkness gave way to light.

Guo Yume gasped and opened his eyes.

He found himself lying beneath the gallows, surrounded by unfamiliar cultivators and countless spiritual beasts. The scent of scorched earth lingered heavily in the air.

“W... What happened?”

Before anyone could answer, the ground nearby split apart.

Another Sage Wo Li emerged from the earth, whole and fully clothed, climbing from the soil with the aid of his staff. Beside the opening rested a pile of black charcoal vaguely resembling the outline of a person.

Guo Yume frowned.

Something felt terribly wrong.

The Sage appeared unharmed, but his eyes looked strangely dull, as though some unseen light had quietly disappeared.

Unable to understand the unsettling feeling, Guo Yume turned toward the gallows and immediately recognized the former Sect Leader of the Stone Spire Sect, forever trapped within the final moment of his execution.

A cold realization struck him that he would have become like this if he hadn't been brought back to life.

His breathing quickened.

He immediately searched the crowd.

“Yuti! Father!”

His eyes finally found Guo Yimu standing among the gathered disciples. His son looked as though he had aged years within a single day.

Guo Yume rushed forward and grabbed him by both shoulders.

“Where's your father? Where's your brother?”

Guo Yimu's lips trembled.

“T... They didn't make it.”

The words shattered something inside him. Guo Yume slowly turned toward Sage Wo Li. His grief erupted into fury. “Sage!” he roared. “Where's my father? Where's my son!? Bring them back! Bring them back! We followed you!”

He took a staggering step forward before Guo Yimu caught hold of his sleeve.

“Father, please stop!” Guo Yimu cried, tears spilling freely down his face. “It's over! Don't disgrace yourself! The Guo Clan is not an ungrateful clan! The Serenity Cliff Sect still needs a Sect Leader!”

The words reached his ears. His heart refused to accept them. The father he had admired all his life was gone. The son he had raised from birth was gone. Everything he had spent decades protecting had been ripped away within a single day.

Only Guo Yimu remained.

Yet as Guo Yume looked upon the young man before him, a strange coldness settled into the pit of his stomach. His fists trembled uncontrollably, not from fear, but from something darker. It felt unjust. Unfair. A bitterness he had never known began quietly eating away at his heart, and he could no longer tell whether he despised fate, himself, or the impossible price that had been demanded of his family.

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Guo Yimu lowered his voice, desperately trying to steady his father.

“Father... we need to rebuild—”

“You are not my son.”

The words escaped before Guo Yume could stop them.

Silence followed.

He pulled his sleeve free and walked away without looking back, each heavy step burdened by grief, remorse, and a growing loathing that hollowed him from within. Whether that hatred was directed toward Guo Yimu, toward the Sage, or toward the broken man he himself had become, even Guo Yume could no longer tell.

…

..

.

[POV: Xu Lei]

Xu Lei patrolled the outer perimeter of the Touch Grass Sect with his spear resting across his shoulder, his eyes constantly sweeping the forest beyond the defensive formations. Ever since the Heavenly Domain Sect's invasion, vigilance had become second nature. Every rustling leaf and every shifting shadow demanded attention. It was during one such patrol that Xing Ning came running toward him, breathing heavily from haste rather than exhaustion.

“The Sage has returned,” Xing Ning said. “They're performing resurrections at the gallows.”

Xu Lei froze.

Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the heart of the sect.

By the time he arrived, cultivators and spiritual beasts had already gathered beneath the towering gallows. The atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Hope mingled with grief, while awe struggled against fear. Some celebrated those who had returned, while others stared uneasily at the black silhouettes of charcoal scattered around Sage Wo Li's feet.

Xu Lei's gaze eventually found the one figure he dreaded seeing.

His father.

Xu Ping, the Sect Leader of the Stone Spire Sect, still hung from the noose as a vengeful spirit. Hatred twisted the ghost's face beyond recognition, yet beneath the corruption, Xu Lei could still recognize the man who had raised him. Even after all this time, the sight remained almost impossible to bear.

Xing Ning quietly stepped beside him.

“It might not be worth it,” he said in a subdued voice. “I've seen what happens when the resurrection fails. Even the Sage doesn't know where they go afterward.”

Xu Lei remained silent for several breaths, and then he tightened his grip around his spear. “Even knowing that, I'm still willing to take that risk.”

He walked toward Sage Wo Li.

When he reached him, Xu Lei planted the butt of his spear into the earth before laying it gently upon the ground. Then he lowered himself onto one knee and respectfully cupped his fists.

“Sage,” he began, his voice steady despite the grief threatening to overwhelm him, “I beg you... please bring my father back.”

His head lowered further.

“I understand the risks. I understand that there may be failure. If that happens, I will not blame you. I swear it upon my Dao.” His voice gradually softened. “Even so... my heart still wishes to see my father again. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but... isn't that simply human nature? If Heaven grants us this miracle, then I shall forever thank it for its grace. If not... then I can only accept that it was fate.”

No one spoke.

The clearing remained utterly silent.

Some cultivators believed such words would be easy to utter when the burden belonged to someone else.

Xu Lei meant every syllable.

He slowly raised his head. Only then did he truly look into Sage Wo Li's eyes. They had become strangely dim. It was as though the light that had once inspired everyone around him had gradually been chipped away, piece by piece, with every soul he wrestled back from death.

Xu Lei's heart tightened.

Xing Ning had told him everything.

Each resurrection demanded an unbearable price.

At that moment, Zi Wen stepped forward and respectfully cupped his fists toward the Sage. “I know that you are somewhere in there, Sage,” the immortal physician said solemnly, “but I beg of you... no more.”

His gaze lingered upon Wo Li's distant eyes.

“Even if I were to one day reach the ultimate peak of cultivation, my powers of resurrection would never be capable of restoring a ghost to its humanity. The fact that you brought back Roo, Lady Li Qing, and Lord Guo Yume is already a miracle beyond all reason. Furthermore, we still do not know what becomes of those who fail to return despite your miraculous spell.”

His expression grew increasingly troubled.

“Please... think this through. What if your interference severs their path to reincarnation forever?”

The physician's words pierced Xu Lei's heart. Every sentence carried reason. Every warning carried compassion. Cultivators spent their entire lives defying Heaven, pursuing immortality, and refusing death itself. Yet there remained a boundary even immortals feared to cross.

Xu Lei looked once more toward the hanging spirit of his father.

How could he leave him there?

How could any son?

He bowed deeply once more.

“Sage...” he whispered. “Please... just one last time. Free my father from this torment.”

Silence answered him.

Finally, Sage Wo Li slowly raised his staff. Its end struck the earth with a heavy thump.

“Revive Life.”

The heavens immediately answered.

Blinding lightning descended from the skies while crimson infernal flames erupted from beneath the earth, engulfing the Sage from both directions. Divine punishment and hellfire collided upon his body without mercy.

Above them, Xu Ping suddenly screamed.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

The vengeful ghost writhed violently against the noose as black resentment poured from his body like smoke. His agonized cries echoed throughout the valley, causing many cultivators to avert their eyes.

Xu Lei could not.

Tears streamed freely down his face as he watched his father's twisted form slowly unravel beneath the Sage's impossible miracle. The hatred faded. The resentment dispersed. The noose loosened.

At the very last moment, clarity returned to Xu Ping's eyes. The madness disappeared. He smiled. It was the same gentle smile Xu Lei remembered from childhood.

“My son...”

His voice had become soft once more.

“Take care... of the Stone Spire Sect.”

With those final words, Xu Ping's figure dissolved into countless motes of light that drifted peacefully toward the heavens.

Xu Lei remained kneeling long after his father had vanished, tears falling silently onto the earth beneath him.

…

..

.

[POV: Wo Li]

When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing before the enormous gates of the Underworld.

The black gates stretched beyond the horizon, towering high enough to blot out the crimson sky above. Before them stood the two eternal wardens, Ox Head and Horse Face, their colossal figures casting shadows over the barren plain. My body felt unusually light, and when I looked down, I realized why.

I was only a spirit.

Around me lay my own corpses. There were dozens of them. Perhaps more. Each one had met a different end.

One had been reduced to little more than a blackened skeleton, every bone cracked apart by heavenly lightning. Another had been frozen solid, jagged crystals of frost piercing through shattered flesh.

One body had been crushed so completely that its bones protruded through flattened limbs, as though an entire mountain had collapsed upon it. Another had been burned until only charcoal remained, still faintly smoldering.

One had deep claw marks torn across its chest, the organs spilling onto the black earth. Another had been pierced by countless blades from every direction, resembling a porcupine fashioned from swords.

One had no head. Another had no lower body. One had withered into a dried husk, every drop of vitality seemingly drained away. Yet another appeared perfectly intact, save for the expression frozen upon its face.

Despair.

Every single corpse wore that same expression with eyes widened, mouths slightly parted, and faces twisted by the realization that death had claimed them.

I slowly walked among them, unable to remember anything about them.

My Druidic Insight left no room for doubt. Every corpse scattered around me was unquestionably my own, yet I could not remember living through any of those deaths. It was as though someone had reached into my soul and torn those memories away, leaving behind only certainty without recollection.

“Give it up.”

Ox Head's deep voice rumbled across the wasteland.

“You've failed enough times.”

Horse Face chuckled beside him, his equine features twisting into an amused grin.

“Oh, let him try,” he said. “We could use the entertainment.”

The two titans looked down upon me with eyes colder than I remembered. There had once been familiarity in those gazes. Now there was only detached indifference. I glanced once more at the countless versions of myself scattered before the gates. Judging from the number of corpses alone, this was far from my first visit.

My last clear memory was standing beneath the gallows. Roo... I had resurrected him. I was fairly certain I had succeeded.

After that, everything became hazy.

Fragments surfaced only to disappear again. I vaguely remembered casting Revive Life several more times. Faces flickered through my mind before dissolving into mist. I could not remember whether I had succeeded or failed.

I let out a quiet sigh.

Whatever had happened no longer mattered.

I raised my staff.

“Spirit of the World Tree.”

Verdant light blossomed around my spiritual body as roots of luminous emerald spread across the barren ground, wrapping around me like the embrace of an ancient forest. Warmth returned to my soul, steadying both my breathing and my resolve. An enormous tree lit up behind me.

Horse Face gave a low whistle.

“I'll admit it,” he said with a grin. “You've got determination.”

Ox Head folded his massive arms.

“Do you truly wish to storm the gates of the Underworld that badly?” he asked. “Then you'll have to go through us. You've already failed again and again.”

I smiled faintly.

“Then I'll simply keep trying.”

Failure no longer frightened me. If I truly had died this many times, then perhaps forgetting each death was a blessing rather than a curse. Fear could not accumulate if memory refused to preserve it.

I tightened my grip around my staff and looked past the two wardens toward the endless gates beyond them.

“I won't be giving up anytime soon.”

My voice echoed across the silent wasteland.

“I'm bringing everyone back with me.”

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