He had just saved a mother and child who had slipped from the cliff, and the survivors sat by the mountain's edge, still in shock. Yet, they didn't say a single word of thanks to their savior—not because they had forgotten in their fear, but because they didn't know who to thank.

  He deliberately concealed his form so the mortals couldn't see him.

  But I could, crystal clear.

  He leaned against me, bathed in the clear moonlight, patiently waiting for the group of worshippers to leave.

  Aside from those humans and prey, no one had ever been this close to me. I did not appreciate the humility of people when they begged, nor the terror of the prey when it was caught. But I liked him. I liked his presence—gentle yet not imposing, cold and deep, yet carrying a soft warmth...

  "From now on, this must not happen again."

  Once the people had all dispersed, he spoke his first words to me, calm and composed, neither smiling nor angry.

  Although I lived in solitude, I was not dull. The subtle reproach and warning in his words made me uncomfortable.

  Seven-colored radiance leaped from my body, lighting up half the mountain in a dazzling dispy. The wind moved as I moved, my form swaying with elegance, a sight far more captivating than any before.

  It was intentional.

  A nameless white bird, unguarded, flew right into my trap. It perched among my beautiful, translucent leaves and sang its melodious tune.

  Without a sound, I moved a branch among the thousands around me, slowly drawing near to my prey of the day.

  The bird was so lost in the beauty of its song, it didn't sense the slightest hint of impending death.

  With a gentle motion, I raised a branch, swiftly ensnaring its fragile neck. With just a little more force, this small creature would forever silence its proud melody.

  The prey struggled, its white feathers fluttering lightly and scattering through the branches.

  In truth, I wasn't hungry at all. I only wanted to show the one before me that had they not foolishly coveted my allure, they wouldn't have lost their lives. I never forced anyone—humans, birds, or beasts—they all chose to fall into my trap willingly. How could they bme me?

  But my silent rebuttal was swiftly stopped by him.

  A drop of clear water shot out from his fingers, striking my "hand"—the one gripping the bird's life—with perfect accuracy.

  The sharp, tingling pain spread through every vein in my body.

  I couldn't resist. I released my grip.

  The bird, with a fluttering of wings, soared into the sky, becoming the first prey to escape alive from my grasp.

  "You mischievous, stubborn little yaokai." He withdrew his gaze from where the bird had flown and slowly walked toward me. The night breeze stirred his pale moon-white robes, and the silk ribbon hanging at his waist danced with the wind, brushing against my face—it was surprisingly ticklish.

  "A restless, vengeful soul will eventually bring their grievances to the underworld. It's only a matter of time before they come for you." He reminded me, brushing aside a strand of dark hair blown into his face.

  “Come for me?”

  Did he truly think I was ignorant?

  Over the years, I had heard countless ments of the dead. I knew well that in this world, there were souls far more wrongly sin—hundreds, even thousands of times more unjustly—than those who perished on Mount Fulong.

  How much of it could the underworld possibly manage?

  I needed food, and I needed the worship of humans. Without food, my body would wither. Without worship, my heart would hollow out.

  How could a carefree, wandering immortal like him possibly understand the mind of a tree yaokai?

  Yes, he is an immortal—untouched by dust, lofty, and beyond reach.

  From the moment he approached, I recognized his identity at once. He was unique, unmistakable. Because he is a god, it is his natural duty to show mercy toward all living beings.

  However, in the eyes of the heavens, "all living beings" had never included yaokais.

  That was a rule set by the righteous path of the celestial realms for millennia.

  I regretted my earlier feelings of "liking" for him and started calcuting how he would treat a "stubborn" tree yaokai like me. Would he destroy my shallow cultivation? Or would he immediately bring me to justice on the spot?

  After all, if he wished, with just a thought, he could bring me to ruin, and in doing so, gain the honor of eliminating a yaokai for the greater good.

  What would happen to me now, encountering him?

  "I am here, and you are not allowed to act recklessly."

  His words were spoken with such a cool indifference that they pierced my heart like ice.

  Just as I had anticipated, a yaokai had no right to argue with a god. Once angered, the only outcome would be the loss of its very life.

  The "Sacred Tree" atop the Fulong Mountain was about to cease to exist.

  In the blink of an eye, I had gone from being the hunter to the hunted. The shift in roles was so abrupt, so absolute, that it shattered my every expectation.

  The human phrases I had once overheard—"a life for a life," "evil will be repaid with evil"—now surfaced in my mind, mocking me with cruel amusement.

  I had never been satisfied with my life.

  But I still clung to it.

  To see, to hear, to breathe—was that not better than the eternal, senseless void of death?

  I was not so "wayward" as to scoff at the idea of dying.

  And so, in that moment, I was truly afraid.

  Afraid—and resentful of him.

  "At least don't make my death too painful, merciful god."

  It was both an angry retort and a heartfelt plea—the first words I said to him and also the st.

  I was terrified, but I would never bow my head to beg.

  There was a hint of a smile in his eyes, unfathomable.

  Clear, dynamic ripples of water swirled out from his slender fingers, shimmering with glimmering light points. One ring after another, yer upon yer, they flowed gracefully and slowly into his palm, forming a colorless lotus flower.

  On the mountainside, there was a lotus pond, green and red mingling, at the height of its bloom. Yet not a single flower could compare to the one in his hand.

  The person reflected the flower, and the flower reflected the person.

  Even in such a desperate situation, I had to admit this was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen in my life.

  Immortals are immortals, after all—everything, even a weapon of death, must be fwless.

  No wonder humans worship them, and no wonder so many dream of becoming one of them.

  "Go."

  He opened his hand, his lips moving ever so slightly.

  The most beautiful lotus flower in the world spun as it flew toward me.

  At st, he made his move.

  I knew there was no escaping it, so I steeled myself and stared directly at the "flower" already swirling above my head, awaiting the end of my life.

  Unfathomable incantations spilled from his lips, reaching my ears in a relentless loop, disturbing my mind.

  The lotus flower suddenly ceased spinning, releasing several thin, translucent rays of white light before plunging straight downward—into my body.

  For the first time, I felt "cold."

  An uncontrolble force surged from my roots deep in the earth, spreading through me in waves—stronger and stronger, as if trying to tear my very soul from my physical form.

  There was no wind, yet every branch, every leaf trembled, rustling noisily.

  A strange haze settled before my eyes, as though I were seeing the world through a veil of water—

  Blurring—

  Fading—

  Is this the symptom of a yaōkai nearing death?!

  It should be. Thankfully, it wasn't as painful as I had imagined.

  Scattered moonlight. Wildflowers and jagged rocks.

  And the white-robed immortal standing before me, smiling.

  These were the st sights I would ever see in this world.

  In the midst of the chaos, I could no longer tell if I was alive or dead.

  I only felt as if I were dreaming—

  Dreaming that I had taken human form, ughing and leaping, running barefoot across rough, uneven ground—

  Overcome with joy.