Chapter 13: A Stubborn Disciple

  Yes, it was indeed a miracle. An honest-to-heavens miracle. To think that even with my utter lack of opposable thumbs, limited strength, stubby legs, and what could only be described as "artistic talent" rather than "engineering expertise," I somehow managed to build a somewhat functioning approximation of a boat.

  Well, a raft. A very sad, barely-floating raft.

  I looked at the wreckage of my noble vessel, still bobbing pitifully in the shallows, and couldn't help feeling a strange swell of pride. It was not much, but it was mine. I, a dodo bird, had defied fate, gravity, and the natural limitations of my biology to craft something tangible.

  Master Song, of course, did not share my enthusiasm.

  "Disciple Du," he growled, fur puffed up, voice trembling with a mix of rage and disappointment, "would you care to explain just what in the Seven Flaming Hells compelled you to waste your time on this nonsense?!"

  I flinched, my feathers ruffling in guilt. But I held my ground. I had a reason!

  "We-well, Master!" I stammered, flapping my wings nervously, "Last time… in my past iteration, we were found because we triggered formations on land! So… so I thought… maybe if we escape through the sea, there won't be any formations!"

  Master Song froze, his sword tapping absently against a rock. His nose twitched dangerously.

  "Formations," he repeated slowly, like he was tasting something very bitter. “What are you even talking about? Past iteration?”

  "Y-yes!" I nodded furiously. "Battle formations, ward formations, array formations, spell formations… that kind of thing, Master! You always told me… formations are everywhere on land, right? But the sea... the sea is big! Boundless! Surely they wouldn't waste precious resources putting formations in the middle of the ocean, right? We will be able to escape this time!"

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  Master Song closed his eyes, took a deep, slow breath, and I saw the exact moment when his frustration reached its critical mass.

  "You absolute… imbecile! I don’t understand half of what you are saying, but this is utter futility, disciple!" he exploded, tail bristling like a furious storm cloud. "Even if there are no formations in the sea, do you think the sea itself is safe?! Do you think the beasts of the ocean are docile lambs waiting for you to ride merrily across them?! The ocean cultivators, the spirit whales, the sea dragons, the abyssal storms… have you no brain, Du?! NO BRAIN?!"

  Ouch…

  I took a cautious step back, cowed under the sheer volume of his scolding. "B-but… but, Master," I weakly protested, "it's… it’s an escape route? It's… creative?"

  "From WHAT?!" Master Song roared, stomping toward me until his shadow swallowed me whole. "Who is hunting you, fool? Who even knows you exist yet? You are not even worth a spirit stone to anyone right now!"

  I shrank into myself, peering up at him with the most pitiful expression I could muster. "I… I was just thinking ahead…?"

  Master Song's right eye twitched violently. "Thinking ahead? Thinking ahead?! Disciple Du, let me make one thing clear." He jabbed a claw into my forehead, lightly, but firmly enough to drive his point home. "Your task is to cultivate. Cultivate your body. Strengthen your spirit. Temper your will. You are not to waste a single breath on playing, dilly-dallying, or… heaven forbid… building floating death traps!"

  I gulped. "Yes, Master."

  "You will focus!" he barked. "You will train! You will grow strong enough that no enemy, land or sea, will ever dare to raise a hand against you! Then, and only then, may you think about running away!"

  "Y-yes, Master," I mumbled again, bowing my head low in shame.

  Satisfied, Master Song let out a long, dramatic sigh, the kind that only a tired teacher could produce. He turned away, muttering to himself about the foolishness of youth and the perils of impatience.

  I watched him walk back toward the Sacred Hill, dragging his massive sword across the ground in a way that made the earth tremble. My heart ached with guilt… and a tiny bit of stubborn pride. Maybe I messed up. Maybe my raft was terrible. But I was still right about one thing.

  In this world, danger was everywhere.

  And next time, when danger came… whether by land, sea, or sky… I would be ready.

  Or at least, I'd have a raft to die on.

  That same day, Master Song decided my punishment. It was brutal, unfair, and absolutely fitting.

  For more than a fortnight… yes, over two miserable weeks… I was chased around the Sacred Hill by Master wielding the flat of his sword like a giant paddle. Every time I slowed down, thinking he would take pity, he whacked me lightly on the back. Every time I tried to hide, he sniffed me out like a spirit hound. No excuses. No breaks. No mercy.

  "This is to beat the foolishness out of you!" he declared as he sprinted after me through the forest, his voice thundering between the trees.

  "Master, mercy! MERCY!" I squawked as I ran for my life, flapping my useless wings for more speed.

  "No mercy for lazy disciples who build death-rafts!" he barked back gleefully.

  Thus, my life for the next fortnight became running, dodging, screaming, and occasionally crying when he managed to catch me and thump me on the back.

  Despite all the hardship, or maybe because of it, I felt my body hardening, my steps growing more sure, my breathing steadier. It was cultivation hidden under the guise of punishment, and somehow, I didn’t even hate it.

  Of course, that didn’t stop me from continuing my secret boat project whenever Master was away.

  When he disappeared for his occasional long trips, I would sneak back to the beach, gathering wood, repairing my sad little raft, tying the logs together tighter, improving it little by little. It became a stubborn obsession for me. No one said cultivation and survival skills couldn’t go hand-in-wing!

  Time passed quietly like this, and before I knew it, another year had gone by.

  That night, Master and I sat atop the peak of Sacred Hill, near the Sacred Tree, our small bonfire crackling and popping merrily. We were roasting fish… thick, juicy fish I had caught earlier from the lake… and for once, the atmosphere between us was easy, almost tender.

  Master Song, unusually quiet for a while, finally spoke. His voice was rough, like it took effort to say the words.

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  "Du," he said, staring at the flames, "I owe you an apology."

  I blinked. "Huh? For what, Master?"

  "For treating you so harshly," he said, tossing another fish into the fire. "I... sometimes forget you are still a fledgling. You deserved better guidance, not just the lash of my sword."

  I looked at him, at his drooping ears, his slightly hunched back despite his youthful vigor… and I felt a pang in my heart.

  "Master," I said earnestly, bowing my head, "it isn’t your fault. This disciple had been lacking."

  In the back of my mind, however, I was scolding myself fiercely. ‘Not just lacking. Lying, sneaking around, and wasting time building rafts instead of cultivating like I should.’

  I sighed, feeling the weight of my own failures pressing on my chest.

  Master must have misunderstood, because he smiled gently, misreading the sigh for sadness.

  To cheer me up, he began sharing stories of his journey, his face lighting up like a firework under the stars.

  "I visited old bonds," he said, eyes twinkling. "Had tea with a battle-crazed mouse who insisted we spar for old time's sake. Lost a tooth to that rascal too."

  I choked on my fish, coughing. "Master, you lost a tooth?"

  He grinned, revealing a still very intact, very sharp set of teeth. "I got better. You know how it is. You should have seen the other guy!"

  He continued, his voice soft but animated. "Met an old ram too. Wise fellow. He taught me some new medicinal concoctions. Potions that could mend broken bones, bolster strength, even clear the mind for cultivation."

  "Sounds like a miracle potion," I said, feeling a bit envious.

  "It tastes like burnt fish steeped in vinegar," Master said with a grimace. "But yes, quite miraculous."

  We both laughed, the sound drifting into the night sky like tiny floating embers.

  For that moment, I forgot about my fears, my secret raft, and my guilt. There was only the warmth of the fire, the smell of roasted fish, the presence of my Master, and the stars stretching endlessly above us.

  In this life or the last, it was these moments I cherished the most.

  As the crackling of the fire grew quieter, and the stars above us shimmered in the ink-dark sky, I found myself staring into the flames, my mind turning over things I didn’t want to think about.

  The laughter from earlier faded into a heavy silence. Master Song poked at the fire with a stick, his expression unreadable. Maybe it was the way the night pressed against us, or maybe it was the weight that clung to his words earlier, but suddenly I couldn’t hold the question back any longer.

  "Master," I said quietly, almost afraid to break the peace between us, "are you going to die?"

  Master Song didn't flinch. He simply stopped poking the fire and turned his head slightly to regard me with those ancient, fathomless eyes of his.

  Instead of answering, he asked back, "Why do you think that?"

  I shuffled on my little bird feet, digging my claws lightly into the dirt, feeling strangely small despite my plumpness. I gathered my courage, looked him squarely in the eye, and said, "Because, Master, you are revisiting all these important people in your life... as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see them."

  The words came out heavier than I expected. They hung between us like thick mist.

  Master Song leaned back, setting the stick aside. For a moment, he simply looked at the sky, watching the stars wheel slowly across the heavens. When he finally spoke, his voice was not sad, nor was it burdened by fear. Instead, there was something like acceptance, deep and calm, like the roots of the Sacred Tree itself.

  "Du," he said, "even mighty oaks fall when the storm is strong enough. Even mountains crumble under the weight of time. I am no different."

  I opened my beak to say something… to argue, to deny it, to demand he promise me he would walk the path of cultivation with me… but no words came. Only a hollow, dry click of my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

  Master continued, "There are signs, subtle ones. Old injuries that ache worse with each year. Moments when my spiritual sea feels... thinner than it should. I recognize them. I am not so foolish as to deny what I see."

  I shook my head rapidly, feathers flapping. "But Master! There must be pills, or potions, or cultivation techniques! Surely there’s a way to—"

  He held up a paw, gently silencing me.

  "Even the greatest alchemists cannot brew a pill against the fate of heaven," he said. "Some things, Du, must be faced with an open heart."

  I felt my throat clench painfully. I remembered my past life… how I had tried, failed, and tried again to be worthy. I thought I had been given a second chance. I thought maybe... this time, I could change everything.

  Master chuckled softly, seeing the turmoil on my face. He reached out, using one finger to tap me lightly on the forehead.

  "Don't look so miserable, little featherhead. It is not a funeral yet. I am still here. We are still here. Tomorrow, we train. The day after, we feast. And the day after that? Who knows. That is the way of life."

  "But Master..." I muttered, tail drooping.

  "No buts," he said firmly, but with warmth. "What matters is what you do with the time you have, not how much of it you are given."

  He stood up, dusting himself off, sword slung over his back like a casual afterthought.

  "Come, Du. Tomorrow, I will teach you a new technique. One that will split mountains and churn seas… if your stubby legs can handle it, that is."

  Despite myself, I laughed weakly. "Master... I'm more worried about my stubby wings."

  He laughed too, his voice echoing across the silent Sacred Hill.

  And even though fear gnawed at my heart, even though the future was a dark unknown stretching endlessly before me, I got up, flapped my wings uselessly, and waddled after him.

  Because as long as he was still walking forward, I would follow.

  Tomorrow arrived quicker than I anticipated.

  Master Song stood tall atop the Sacred Hill, his heavy sword slung over one shoulder, the morning mist curling around him like an ancient robe. With a grin sharp as a fox’s and eyes glittering with excitement, he raised his sword and pointed at a patch of forest.

  "Du!" he declared, his voice ringing out across the clearing, "today, you will witness the culmination of all your body tempering thus far… the Earth Breaking Spade!"

  I blinked, tilting my head. Earth Breaking Spade? My heart thudded in my chest. I knew this! I remembered this technique! I remembered it shaking the earth itself when Master showed it to me after I reached Qi Gathering... but back then, it was so powerful it split the sea!

  Master didn’t make me wait long.

  He planted his feet firmly into the ground, gathered his qi… or in this case, suppressed it so heavily that it barely stirred the air… and with a heavy, downward slash, he swung his sword at a nearby tree.

  A loud CRACK echoed through the Sacred Hill. The tree split perfectly down the middle, from crown to roots, with a sound like thunder bottled in wood.

  I staggered back, wings flapping wildly. "Waaah!" I squawked, utterly impressed despite myself. Several more trees met the same fate, one after another, each one cleaved vertically as if by an unseen heavenly axe. It was awe-inspiring to see.

  Master wiped a bit of imaginary dust off his shoulder and turned to me, grinning. "Of course, this is merely the Earth Breaking Spade at Body Tempering realm. I could easily fell a mountain if I used my full strength, but I must restrain myself. I have no desire to attract the attention of worrysome meddlers."

  He said it so casually, as if leveling mountains was just another chore, like fetching firewood or grilling fish. I could only nod, my mind racing.

  In my past iteration, when he showed me this technique, he hadn't bothered suppressing anything. He was already at the end of his lifespan, with no fear left of being found. Back then, the Earth Breaking Spade had been so terrifying it had split the sea. This... this was a more careful, more cautious Master Song.

  And yet... even suppressed, even muted, the power he wielded was overwhelming.

  Master laughed heartily and tossed his sword to the ground, the blade digging itself halfway into the dirt with a heavy thud.

  "Now, little Du," he said, beckoning me forward, "it’s your turn! Watch carefully, imitate me, and split this log here!"

  A battered piece of wood, rough and uneven, was dragged before me like a prisoner sentenced to execution. I gulped and waddled forward. Deep inside, I already knew the Earth Breaking Spade. It was engraved in my bones, burned into my muscles from my previous life. I just had to pretend to learn it.

  I flapped my stubby wings to psyche myself up, gripped the wooden training sword Master had given me with my claws, and let my instincts take over.

  One step forward, shoulder loose, weight down... and swing!

  THWACK!

  The log split down the center with a clean line.

  There was a moment of silence. Then Master Song's laughter exploded like fireworks, hearty and full of pride.

  "My disciple must be a genius!" he cried out, clapping his paws together. His eyes shone with such affection and pride that I felt like a knife had quietly been lodged into my heart.

  I forced a smile, basking in his warmth, but deep inside, guilt gnawed at me like termites at an old tree.

  I wasn’t a genius.

  I was just a cheating, time-traveled dodo bird.

  Master spent the rest of the day making me practice the Earth Breaking Spade over and over again. Every time I swung, he shouted encouragements. Every time I improved even by the tiniest margin, he roared in delight. He even ruffled my feathers once, declaring, "At this rate, you’ll outpace this old squirrel in no time!"

  If only he knew.

  If only he knew how desperately I wanted to protect this future… to make it better than last time, no matter how many lies or little cheats it would take.

  As the sun dipped beyond the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of gold and crimson, I swung my wooden sword one more time.

  CRACK!

  Another clean split.