5

Chapter 11: Reuniting Master and Disciple

I bobbed helplessly up and down the lake, feeling a little like a piece of driftwood abandoned by the tides. After what felt like an eternity of sputtering and kicking my stubby legs, I finally managed to swim toward the shore. Each stroke was a battle, but the thought of home drove me forward. When at last my claws touched solid ground, I dragged myself out of the water, collapsed onto the soft earth, and shook my soaked feathers with as much vigor as my tiny body could muster.

I wished I could dry myself faster, to regain some dignity at least, but there was no time for such frivolous concerns. Because there, standing atop a rock not far from me, radiating a presence that froze me in awe, was a figure I knew too well… even if he was healthier, younger, and carried a vibrancy I hadn't seen before.

It was him.

It was Master Song Shu.

The sun caught his fur, making it glisten like polished silver, and the great sword he hefted casually over one shoulder gleamed with quiet menace. His tail stood high and proud, a banner of his strength and spirit. I could scarcely breathe as I stared at him, my heart hammering with disbelief and desperate hope.

Master Song Shu raised his voice, the wind catching it as if the world itself leaned in to listen. His words came out like a chant, carrying a melody that stirred something deep within my soul.

"Through broken mountains and shattered skies,

I seek a heart that will not die.

With blade and breath, with sky and sea,

Walk the path of Dao with me."

The world seemed to still at his declaration. Even the ripples on the lake quieted, as if holding their breath. Song Shu's eyes, sharp and warm all at once, landed directly on me.

"I," he declared, his voice carrying across the clearing, "am seeking a disciple. Someone who can tread the lonely road of cultivation with me, who dares to face heaven and earth without fear. Tell me, little one. Would you—"

He didn't even get to finish.

I scrambled onto my feet… or rather, I dropped onto my knees with a clumsy thud, wings flared out like a ridiculous fan… and shouted with every bit of my dodo lungs could muster.

"Master! This disciple seeks your teachings!"

The words exploded out of me, raw and desperate, so loud it startled a flock of birds from a nearby tree. I didn't care how pathetic or small I looked. I didn't care that tears were welling up in my beady eyes. All I knew was that fate, heaven, or some twisted karma had spun the wheel once more and given me this chance.

A chance to call him Master again. A chance to walk the path at his side once more.

I lowered my head to the ground, trembling not from fear, but from overwhelming joy. I swore in that moment, in that breathless, reckless heartbeat, that no matter what, no matter how difficult, I would seize this life with all the stubbornness of my soul.

Because this time, I would protect what mattered to me.

This time, I would be worthy of the name disciple.

Master Song Shu stared at me with an expression that I couldn't quite read at first. Then, slowly, his bushy brows knitted together and his nose twitched ever so slightly. Was that… doubt? Was my would-be Master actually doubting me? After everything, after all the emotions, here he was, giving me a look like I had crawled out from under a rock and somehow offended his senses.

"What manner of bird are you?" he asked, his voice filled with both confusion and curiosity. "You cannot be a chicken. Too big. A turkey, perhaps? Or an ostrich?"

I straightened my posture as much as my stubby legs allowed, puffed up my wet chest, and shouted as proudly as I could manage, "I am a Dodo, Master!"

Master Song Shu tilted his head, his ears twitching thoughtfully. "Du, that's your name?" he asked, giving me an intense once-over, as if trying to decipher the mysteries of my existence from my plump body alone.

For a moment, my mind froze. That wasn't my name. I was sure of it! In my past life… or past iteration… Master had given me a proper name, one filled with warmth and meaning. Yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recall it. The memory hovered just out of reach, like mist in the early dawn. I felt a sudden pang of glumness, a hollow ache that made my chest tight.

But I shoved those feelings aside. It didn't matter right now. I psyched myself up, flapped my stubby wings once, and shouted with as much enthusiasm as I could, "Yes, Master! Du it is! What must I do to become your disciple?"

Master Song Shu grinned, an expression both mischievous and ancient, as if he were about to unleash some secret trial forged in the fires of the Dao itself. He pointed a clawed finger at me and declared, "Before you can call me 'Master Song,' you must first partake in the sacred ceremony!"

I blinked rapidly, my heart pounding in confusion. "W-what ceremony?" I asked, panic rising in my voice. There was nothing like this in my past iteration! I wanted to cry. Why was everything different? Why was fate throwing me curveballs after curveballs?

Master Song Shu ignored my inner turmoil entirely and leaned forward, his whiskers twitching as he set down his great sword beside him with a thud that made the rock tremble slightly. He grinned even wider, revealing a glint of amusement in his ancient eyes.

"Make me laugh," he said simply. "Tell me a joke. If I laugh, then… and only then…— will I let you call me Master Song!"

I stood there frozen, a wet, shivering lump of feathers and nerves. Tell a joke? Was he serious? My mind raced at lightning speed, flipping through half-remembered memories from Earth, snatches of bad puns, terrible riddles, and awkward jokes I once heard on the internet.

This wasn't fair! I wanted to train in cultivation, not in stand-up comedy! I stared at him, gulped nervously, and realized with a sinking feeling that my entire future hung on whether or not I could make a squirrel laugh.

I drew a deep breath, fluffed up my feathers for courage, and racked my brain desperately. I had survived being chased by murderous brats, survived waterfalls, and somehow lived through the endless cruelty of fate itself. Surely... surely I could survive telling a joke.

Surely?

Alright. Think, Du, think! I told myself desperately. I only had one shot at this. Failure wasn't just embarrassing… it was spiritual suicide!

Swallowing my fear, I raised a wing dramatically and declared, "Master, may I tell you a joke about… birds?"

He gave a slight nod, his expression stoic, but the twitch in his cheek betrayed his anticipation.

I coughed again, buying time. "Ahem! Why… why did the chicken… uh, no, the dodo… why did the dodo cross the battlefield?"

Master Song Shu tapped his great sword lightly against the rock, as if telling me to hurry up.

I gulped. "To get to the other sigh!"

Silence.

The breeze whistled over the lake. Somewhere a distant frog croaked in pity.

Master Song Shu stared at me as if trying to decide if he should bury me here and now out of secondhand shame.

It seemed the joke idn't translate that well…

Panicking, I blurted out another, faster. "No, wait! I got a better one! What do you call a bird that's too dumb to fly but too stubborn to fall?"

The silence dragged on long enough that I felt my feathers begin to wilt.

I took a shaky breath and finished with a squeaky voice, "A future… Daoist Grandmaster!"

I cracked a wide, awkward dodo grin, wings raised in a dramatic ta-da!

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Master Song Shu's mouth twitched. Once. Twice. He threw back his head and started to laugh in a great, booming, belly-shaking laughter that echoed through the trees and made the water ripple in the lake.

I blinked, stunned.

He laughed so hard he had to lean on his sword to keep from falling over. Between great guffaws, he gasped, "Truly… truly… Heaven has blessed me this day! To find such a foolhardy, thick-headed… yet spirited disciple!"

I puffed up proudly, wobbling forward a few steps. "So... does that mean—?"

Song Shu wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Yes, Du! From this moment onward, you may call me Master Song!"

My heart swelled with joy, my eyes stung a little, and before I knew it, I leapt forward and headbutted his leg affectionately.

"Thank you, Master!" I cried at the top of my lungs.

He smiled warmly, reaching down to pat my head with a rough but gentle hand. "Come, little one. Your path begins now. It will not be easy, and the heavens themselves may one day move against you… but if you have the heart to make a weary old squirrel laugh, then you have the heart to walk the Dao."

Somewhere deep inside me, something that had been broken… something that had been lost in death, fire, and sorrow… clicked back into place.

I wasn't just alive.

I was home.

"I like the confidence in you, disciple," Master Song said, a mischievous glint sparking in his youthful squirrel eyes. "So, how about we start right away?"

I froze. "Huh? Master, uh, shouldn't there be, like... an oath ceremony or a spiritual agreement first?" Of course, there wasn't anything like that in the last iteration, but…

Master Song twirled his massive sword around like it weighed nothing, grinning ear to ear. "No need for that! Physical education comes first! This is what's going to happen: I will chase you," he paused dramatically, "and I will hit you lightly with the back of my sword. Your goal, my disciple, is to get hurt as little as possible!"

I blinked up at him in horror.

"I... I don't remember signing up for this," I squeaked out.

However, I did remember something like this in my past life.

"Nonsense!" he said, slamming his sword onto his shoulder with a thunk. "You already pledged yourself with that terrible joke of yours. Now, RUN!"

I let out a very undignified squawk and sprinted away as fast as my stumpy legs could carry me.

"Faster, Du! I've seen snails that can outrun you!" Master Song roared after me, sounding far too delighted with himself.

"I'm trying, Master!" I wheezed back. "My legs are too short!"

"Excuses! Heaven does not listen to the complaints of the weak!"

A whoosh cut through the air… I narrowly dodged as the flat of his sword swept toward me like a giant wooden spoon aiming to smack a particularly annoying fly.

I ran harder, zigzagging through the trees. Branches whipped past my face. My feet pounded against the forest floor. "Master, mercy! I'm a bird, not a hare!"

"Birds can fly, fool! Why aren't you flying?" he barked, easily bounding over a bush I had to awkwardly scramble around.

"I don't have wings for that!" I yelled over my shoulder, flapping my useless little arms in demonstration.

He laughed heartily. "Then you have wings of spirit, disciple! Let them carry you!"

Another swing barely missed me, brushing my tail feathers. I screeched and jumped forward like a cat dropped into a bath.

We crashed through the forest, weaving through the trees, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might explode. Somehow, we reached the foot of the Sacred Hill, the ancient place where our story once ended and now began anew.

"To the Hill, Du! If you reach the Sacred Tree, you survive today's lesson!" Master Song shouted gleefully.

"You call this a lesson?!" I cried, dodging another half-hearted whack.

"Of course! A cultivator must always be ready to run for their life! It's a basic principle of survival!"

"Then you're the best teacher of running in all the realms, Master!" I yelped, slipping and sliding over mossy stones.

He burst into laughter. "Good! You're learning flattery! That will also save your life one day!"

Step by step, I scrambled up the slope, the Sacred Hill looming overhead. The ancient trees towered around us, whispering secrets in the wind. Somewhere beyond, the Sacred Tree awaited, cradled by the heavens themselves.

Even as fear pumped through my veins, even as the looming shadow of Master Song's sword swung after me, I found myself grinning. Wide, stupid, and full of life.

I was alive.

I was learning.

And I was home!

"Faster, Du! The heavens won't wait for a lazy bird!" Master roared with delight behind me.

"I'm running, Master! I'm running!" I shrieked… and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, I laughed. "No, Master! Don't spank me, Master!"

Chapter 12: Unyielding Spirit?

It had been a year since I reunited with my Master.

Time passed differently when you were busy chasing after strength. I could still remember that first day, scrambling up the Sacred Hill while Master Song swung his sword like a madman. Compared to those early days, I had grown stronger… or so I liked to believe. After all my diligent work, my Body Tempering had finally reached the early stage. A tiny victory, but a precious one.

Still, I knew the road ahead was long. If I wished to reach full completion, I would need ten years at the minimum... just like in my past life. Even with all my memories, all the references I tried to squeeze from my former self, the path of cultivation had proven just as cruel, just as steep, and just as unforgiving as before.

"Nothing good comes easy," I muttered to myself, standing proudly over the fallen trunk of yet another tree. I had used my Earth Breaking Spade, channeling my meager strength, and this time I cleanly chopped the tree in half. I puffed my chest in pride… until the stump creaked, groaned, and awkwardly toppled over, almost smashing me. I barely managed to waddle out of the way.

"Maybe... ninety-five percent clean," I coughed, dusting myself off.

Cultivation was especially tricky for beasts. Stronger beasts the likes of dragons, phoenixes, and qilins could simply devour powerful creatures and digest them like rare elixirs. Their bloodlines opened the way for them. But weak and smaller creatures, say, a squirrel or a dodo bird like myself? No such shortcut existed. Instead, we were forced to walk the human path: unlocking our meridians through sheer suffering, tempering our bodies through harsh martial arts, relentless training, and endless injuries.

Master Song had been quite clear on this.

"If you cannot rely on your bloodline or your ferocity," he had said while chewing on a pinecone with terrifying vigor, "then you must rely on your will! Will burns hotter than any furnace!"

I took his words to heart. I had to. Otherwise, I'd still be flailing around, good only for comic relief.

I looked around the clearing. It was quiet. Too quiet. Most often, my Master wasn't with me when I trained. It was the same in the last iteration. He would come and go to teach me, scold me, hand me a peach or a roasted nut, or to spar with me until I squealed for mercy. But he never stayed for long. His nature was like the wind, like the rivers… sometimes present, sometimes distant.

I swung my stubby wings around, stretching. "Where is he now?" I asked the empty sky. "I wonder what was Master doing right now?"

Honestly, I had no idea where Master Song had gone this time. Last time, he had mentioned needing to visit a neighboring sect. Another time, he claimed he had to deliver a heavenly debt to some old tortoise hermit. He might come back in a week, or he might come back in a month. It really depended.

"If only my memory was more reliable," I grumbled, kicking a pebble. "Maybe then I'd remember which day he usually returns."

But no matter how much I racked my brain, that detail stubbornly refused to surface. Maybe it was the dodo part of me interfering. Or maybe, some things were simply meant to be lived again, uncertain and thrilling.

I looked up toward the Sacred Hill and the blue skies beyond.

Well, it wasn't like I was truly alone.

Master Song's teachings, his laughter, his terrible squirrel wisdom… they all stayed with me.

And besides, I wasn't about to slack off just because the teacher wasn't around.

"Alright," I said to myself, stomping one clawed foot down in determination, "next tree! Let's see if I can get a hundred percent clean cut this time!"

Another tree fell with a thunderous thud, the ground trembling slightly beneath my claws. The forest around me shook as if startled by my efforts, leaves whispering their approval or perhaps their pity. I stood proudly before my conquest, chest puffed out, despite my stubby legs wobbling from the exertion.

I managed to fell roughly a dozen trees today, each one boasting thick, stubborn bark that took everything I had to break through. I felt oddly proud. After all, it wasn't every day that a dodo bird could declare war on a forest and live to tell the tale.

With a determined grunt, I dragged along the rough rope I had found earlier from the Sacred Tree… an ordinary rope I prepared beforehand. The Sacred Tree, old and venerable, hid many secrets within its hollow trunk, and among the relics tucked away inside was this curious length of rope. A human tool. Odd, but then again, Master Song always collected strange things.

I paused for a moment, clutching the rope in my beak, guilt gnawing at my chest.

Master Song hadn't formally introduced me to the Sacred Tree's inner sanctum yet. If he knew I had slipped inside, found a hidden entrance with my claw, and quietly raided some of the old items… he would be furious. I could already imagine him waving his sword at me, scolding me for "tampering with ancient heritage" or some such thing.

It hurt, deeply, knowing that I was turning my back on Master's trust like this. Even if my intentions were pure, even if it was necessary for my training, it still felt like a betrayal. I tightened the rope around the thickest trunk, summoning every bit of boy scout instinct I had left from my Earth memories. I fashioned a makeshift knot… well, a glorified mess really… and tried to drag the tree toward the beach, inch by painful inch.

The sun dipped beyond the mountains, painting the sky in bruised shades of purple and red. Night descended swiftly, bringing with it a chill that seeped into my wet feathers and bones. I looked at my pitiful progress, barely a few body-lengths dragged across the muddy ground and felt a deep, heavy weariness settle over me.

Not even one log reached the beach.

With a frustrated squawk, I abandoned the task for the night. My stomach grumbled angrily, demanding food, so I waddled down to the lake, slipping and sliding over the damp rocks. Thankfully, this part of the forest was safe enough. There were fish aplenty, and not a single dangerous beast prowled near the water. I was clumsy, sure, but after a few faceplants and embarrassing lunges, I managed to catch a few slippery silver fish.

As I gulped down my meal under the pale glow of the moon, I sighed and looked up at the Sacred Tree standing proudly in the distance. My home. My refuge.

I couldn't resist its pull. I trudged back, soaked and exhausted, slipping through the secret entrance I had found weeks ago. The inside of the Sacred Tree was warm, almost humming with ancient life. I nestled into a patch of moss I claimed as my bed, curling up tightly.

Sleep came quickly, but it was not kind.

Dreams of hurt and pain swirled around me.

I dreamt of fire consuming the Sacred Hill.

I dreamt of Master's fading smile.

I dreamt of loneliness so profound it felt like the night itself had swallowed me whole.

I buried my head deeper into my feathers, willing the memories away. I wanted to believe I could change things this time. That this life would be different. Yet somewhere deep inside, a whisper of fear clung stubbornly to me.

I woke up to the warm sunlight filtering through the cracks of the Sacred Tree. I yawned loudly, shaking bits of moss off my feathers, feeling surprisingly refreshed despite the nightmares that had plagued me. Today was going to be a productive day. It had to be.

Dragging myself up, I immediately returned to the task I had set for myself… moving those stubborn logs. One by one, with lots of grunting, huffing, and desperate clawing at the ground, I managed to drag the trees all the way to the beach. I finished around noon, panting and collapsing dramatically on the sand, feeling like I had conquered a small country. My legs felt like jelly and my wings hung limply by my sides, but my heart was triumphant.

After resting, I caught some fish by the sea. The salty breeze filled my nostrils as I clumsily flapped around the shallows, trying to spear fish with my beak. It wasn't pretty, but I managed to secure my lunch. With a full belly and a heart filled with misplaced confidence, I turned toward my true goal.

It was time to make a boat.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the logs laid out before me, feeling the first seeds of doubt bloom in my mind. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. None. Zero. Zilch. My only qualifications were a Fine Arts degree, a spotty memory of high school physics, and a few trivia tidbits I picked up from random documentaries back on Earth.

"Right," I muttered to myself, pacing in front of the logs. "How hard could it be? It just has to float. Floating is easy. Wood floats. Done!"

Oh, how naïve I was.

The first week was a nightmare. I tied the logs together with the rope using knots that I vaguely remembered from a high school camping trip. Some of them looked sturdy. Others looked like a toddler had been given too much string. When I tried dragging the "raft" to the water, it immediately fell apart like an insult to engineering.

"Ugh! Stupid raft!" I cried out, flopping dramatically on the sand.

I rebuilt it, this time remembering something about "cross beams" for stability. I snapped smaller branches to create a lattice, tying them across the logs. It sort of looked raft-like now, though if you squinted, you might mistake it for a failed art project. I tried pushing it into the water again. It held together… for about three seconds before tipping sideways and throwing me face-first into the shallows.

"Note to self," I sputtered, spitting out salt water, "balance is important."

Over the second week, I began to see slow improvement. I realized I needed to secure the logs tighter and more evenly. I also discovered that if I sat just right… not too much to one side, wings carefully spread… the raft didn't immediately tip over. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't sturdy. Honestly, it looked like something a desperate desert island castaway would throw together after a nervous breakdown, but it floated.

By the third week, I could drift out a little into the cove without dying. That, in my book, was a success.

Just as I was admiring my "magnificent vessel" (and yes, I had proudly named it the Unyielding Spirit), a familiar voice rang across the beach.

"Disciple Du!" Master Song's voice boomed, cutting across the crashing waves and screeching gulls.

I froze, feathers stiffening. Slowly, like a criminal caught red-handed, I turned to see Master Song standing at the edge of the forest, arms crossed, a look of deep, profound disappointment written all over his face.

"What," Master Song said slowly, each word heavy with the weight of judgment, "is that abomination you have summoned upon this sacred land?"

"Master!" I squawked, flapping frantically to the shore. "I… I made a boat!"

"A boat," he repeated, deadpan. He walked closer, inspecting my raft with a mixture of curiosity and horror. His nose twitched. His bushy tail twitched even harder. "You call this a boat?"

I puffed my chest out in pride. "It floats, Master!"

He knelt beside it, poked it once with his sword, and watched as one of the cross beams immediately snapped and drifted away into the sea.

"…It floated," I corrected meekly.

Master Song sighed, the heavy sigh of a teacher questioning every decision that had led him to this moment. "Disciple Du," he said, voice filled with grim patience, "today you have enlightened me to a great truth."

"What is it, Master?" I asked, eyes wide with hope.

He looked me dead in the eye and declared solemnly, "Even miracles have their limits."

Uuuh… Master Song seemed very angry… I hoped it wasn't because of me.

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.

"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.