Unintended Immortality

“Sir…” The swallow perched on a nearby branch.

“What is it?”

“When I found this Qingtong Forest earlier, I thought I saw a figure in the mist and clouds. I’m not sure if it was just the movement of the miasma or if I was dizzy from inhaling it,” the swallow said, its bright black eyes darting left and right, uncertainty etched into its tone. “I didn’t see it clearly.”

“Did it look like the divine bird?”

“Probably... not.”

“I see.”

Song You, seated cross-legged on a felt mat, glanced toward the distant forest and finally said, “This place is rich in spiritual energy, with a mysterious spiritual resonance and undisturbed by humans. It’s natural for living beings here to gain sentience and become demons.”

He cast a brief look at the swallow, suspecting that whatever it had seen might not have been a minor demon or monster.

“Even the presence of a great demon would be unsurprising.”

The swallow fell silent, lifting its gaze toward the distant horizon.

By now, the sky was growing darker.

True to its nature, the swallow chose the tallest tree it could find, one unobstructed by other foliage, and perched on a branch. Tucking in its neck, it gazed out over the vast Qingtong Forest.

Meanwhile, Lady Calico sat beside the Daoist, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the immense forest ahead.

But as she stared, her eyelids began to droop. She yawned, then turned her head toward Song You and asked, “Daoist priest…”

“What is it?”

“How long are we going to wait here?”

“A few days,” the Daoist replied softly. “It’s said that the divine bird chooses its perch carefully, and the phoenix likes to roost on the tallest tree. We’ll spend the night here. Tomorrow is the winter solstice. After we wake, we’ll head toward the tallest tree in the center of the forest to have a look.”

“Will it be in that forest?”

“We’ll just take a look.”

“What if we don’t see the divine bird?”

“Then that’s fine too.”

“Oh…”

Lady Calico said no more. She sat obediently in place, lifting a paw to lick it. Though she was a bit drowsy, she stayed awake since the Daoist wasn’t sleeping either.

The Daoist, meanwhile, sat cross-legged. With his eyes closed, he attuned himself to the spiritual resonance of the land.

The spiritual energy here was dense and profound.

It was unclear whether the unique qualities of this place had given rise to the towering Chinese parasol trees and attracted the divine bird, or whether the presence of these ancient trees and the bird had imbued the land with its mystique. Song You couldn’t discern the cause.

He could only immerse himself in the ethereal connection with this land’s spiritual resonance, sensing that the Chinese parasol trees were likely far older than he had imagined.

The world was vast, the universe boundless. In the expanse of endless time, deities, demons, the Hidden Dragon Temple, human civilizations—anything that relied on this world for existence—amounted to but a fleeting moment.

Yet within the profound, timeless spiritual resonance of this land, there was an inexplicable trace of discord.

The heavens and earth had existed for countless millennia, as had the Chinese parasol trees. Amid the accumulated spiritual resonance of this timeless place, the discordant trace was nearly imperceptible—a fleeting moment within eternity.

The Qingtong Forest was vast, likely as expansive as the Duoda grasslands he had passed earlier. And in this boundless, oceanic spiritual resonance, the trace of discord was like a nearly invisible speck.

If Song You weren’t practicing the Four Seasons Rotation Method, and if it weren’t the winter solstice, he likely wouldn’t have noticed this trace of discord.

It wasn’t strange that there was a trace of discord here—what was strange was that there was only one.

The world was vast, but which place hadn’t birthed demons, ghosts, or monsters? And which place hadn’t human cultivators set foot? In places of serene beauty and profound spiritual resonance, it was not unusual for powerful demons to establish lairs or for accomplished human cultivators to settle in seclusion.

Over time, these significant presences would become part of the mountains and rivers themselves, their spiritual resonance blending into the environment’s spiritual resonance and tainting its purity.

Here, however, there was only one trace of discord.

This indicated that for many years, aside from this single presence, no powerful demons had made this place their den, nor had any accomplished humans chosen it for seclusion.

Could it be the work of the divine bird?

At the moment, Song You had no interest in investigating further. His inner melancholy was growing heavier. There was even a subtle feeling of unease in his chest.

Song You could vaguely guess the cause. It left him mentally exhausted, filled with an overwhelming desire to do nothing, to think of nothing. His furrowed brows only tightened further.

The night deepened.

At some unknown point, a mountain breeze began to blow, sweeping away the miasma and clouds that had shrouded the mountains.

Overhead, a full moon shone, round and bright as a jade disk.

The moonlight bathed the landscape in its silvery glow, and the night sky appeared as if freshly cleansed. In the distance, the silhouette of mountains became clear, with towering Chinese parasol trees standing like heavenly pillars. Following the straight trunks upward, one could finally see their branches and leaves at the top, shaped almost like rounded nests.

Most of these trees were over a hundred zhang tall.

As awe-inspiring as these trees were, in the far distance, there stood a single tree of colossal proportions. Rivaling a mountain in size, it pierced the heavens, likely several hundred zhang high.

It was still not the type of tree with lush, spreading branches and leaves. The lower half remained bare—a straight, smooth trunk devoid of branches. Only the top bore foliage, shaped like a small nest cradling tonight’s full moon.

Song You, his brows tightly furrowed, found himself once again frozen in awe. If not for the breeze dispersing the clouds and miasma, revealing a clear night sky, he would never have seen its full form.

Even on a cloudy night, it would remain hidden within the clouds. It truly seemed like something out of an ancient myth.

Suddenly, a voice called out nearby.

“Sir!” It was the swallow.

Song You turned toward the voice. In the darkness, the tree above revealed only a faint silhouette of the swallow, indistinct in the shadows. But from behind him came the sound of air being sliced—like a bird soaring through the night sky.

Song You abruptly turned his head. What flew toward him was a large bird. It wasn’t a phoenix, nor any divine bird, but a crested myna almost blending into the night sky.

Fortunately, the moonlight cast a silvery glow.

The crested myna didn’t approach directly but perched on a nearby tree. In its beak, it held a letter. Its eyes briefly swept over the swallow beside it, then turned to the cat sitting below. Finally, its gaze settled on the Daoist seated on the felt mat.

The Daoist looked back, his expression blank with surprise. The two locked eyes, neither saying a word.

It seemed neither knew how to speak first, yet words felt unnecessary. A single glance was enough for both to understand each other.

Flap, flap, flap...

After a brief moment of eye contact, the crested myna flapped its wings and flew closer, the sound of its flight breaking the silence. This crested myna was much larger than an ordinary one.

The Daoist extended a hand, gently resting it atop the cat’s head—not only to calm her but also to steady himself.

The crested myna hovered in front of him, the letter still clutched in its beak. The Daoist hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the letter.

“Thank you, Daoist Elder.”

Flap, flap...

The crested myna flapped its wings and returned to the tree, remaining silent as it watched the Daoist seated cross-legged, seemingly calm as he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

Sensing his emotions, the cat turned her gaze to him. Seeing that he was about to read the letter, she immediately transformed into her human form. She took the lantern from the horse’s saddle, blew on it gently, and lit it. Standing before him, she held the lantern high to illuminate the letter for him.

The moonlight was bright and clear, making the letter legible even without the lantern, though one would need to bring it closer. The added lantern light, however, made reading much easier and more comfortable.

The warm yellow glow of the lantern met the pale yellow-white paper, revealing bold, wild handwriting. The Daoist read line by line.

The crested myna perched silently on the tree, its sharp eyes fixed alternately on the Daoist and the young girl quietly holding the lantern. Its gaze flickered with thoughts unknown, but it remained silent.

Time passed slowly.

The Daoist finished reading the letter, then read it again.

“Sigh…” Song You let out a soft sigh, then lifted his head to look at the crested myna perched on the branch and asked, “Where was Master buried?”

“With her master,” came the unexpectedly gentle reply.

It was difficult to discern its gender from the voice, likely because the speaker was not human. Just as one could not distinguish the gender of a cat from its meow, or from the mimicry of parrots and crested mynas, so too was it ambiguous here.

“I see…” Song You nodded, his expression showing little emotion, though his entire demeanor seemed to slow.

His speech slowed, and so did his thoughts. Even the pauses in his words stretched longer.

After a moment’s silence, still holding the letter in his hand, he asked the crested myna again, “Will you return to the temple in the future?”

“The temple has been cleaned and locked up. You can reopen it when you return.”

“I see…”

This, too, was unsurprising.

Since the founding of Hidden Dragon Temple, it seemed no one had ever stayed there permanently. Perhaps it had become a tradition of sorts. Some things had nothing to do with bloodlines, yet they were inevitably passed down from generation to generation.

“And where will you go next, Daoist Elder?”

“I’ll wander for a while.”

“What I mean is…” The Daoist paused again, as if contemplating his words. “If one day I miss you, where should I go to find you, Daoist Elder?”

“I don’t know either,” the crested myna replied calmly from the branch. “When your twenty years of wandering are over, and you return to the mountain, I’ll come to visit you then and tell you where I’ll be staying.”

“Alright.”

“I’m taking my leave now. Don’t be too sad.”

“You too, Daoist Elder.” Song You stood up and bowed in farewell.

Flap, flap, flap...

The crested myna said no more, flapping its wings as it took off into the night sky.

Though the moonlight was bright and the wind had cleared the mist, it wasn’t long before the dark silhouette disappeared into the blackness.

Song You kept his gaze fixed in that direction.

Though he had lived more than one lifetime, for this life’s twenty years, the crested myna had been by his side for nearly all of it. To him, it was like a senior brother or senior uncle, and naturally, parting with it was difficult.

As for the old Daoist back at the temple...

“Sigh…” Song You let out another sigh.

Among the ancestral masters of Hidden Dragon Temple, the old Daoist could likely be counted among the shorter-lived ones.

He unfolded the letter again and read it once more.

Lady Calico, perceptive by nature, had an inkling that the black bird was the “Daoist Elder Heiyu” she had heard about many times. Although she didn’t know what had happened, cats had always been sensitive to human emotions. So, she obediently stood in front of the Daoist, holding up a lantern with both hands.

After a long while, she switched to holding it with one hand, freeing the other. Mimicking how the Daoist usually petted her, she reached out to stroke his hair, her expression earnest and serious.