Fusu sat beneath a distant tree overlooking a small lake. The breeze stirred everything around, but he paid it no mind—like the silent, green-tinted waters reflecting the sky, the wind's rustle meant nothing today.
He sighed, lifted his space-bag, and drew out a dark ceramic bottle. After a long swallow, Fusu exhaled deeply.
— I'm sorry…
He murmured as he avoided looking at the scarred hand he'd carved with his Qi moments before.
— Once upon a time, staying by our side was your duty, yet you gave us so much more… Forgive me for binding you here so long, for denying you the life you truly deserved, and above all… forgive me for never letting you chase your dream.
He clenched the bottle but dared not break it.
— For making you sacrifice yourself to satisfy my desires all these years…
Another drink, hidden tears flooding him from within.
— I don't expect to live much longer, but if I do—when you walk these lands again, as bright and joyful as you once were—I swear I'll do everything so your life isn't weighed down by such suffocating burdens.
Fusu poured some of the red liquid onto a smooth stone slab he'd carefully set into the ground and left the bottle beside it. Then he rose and spoke to the empty air:
— The family you always longed for… I will ensure they live the happiest life any mortal could imagine, just as you always wished.
With a distant gaze toward the winds, he slowly walked away from the turmoil.
On the main stone—set diagonally into the earth—was carved a single character: Ling. Fusu had chosen it because he knew she hated the ties her family forced on her, condemning her to cultivation when all she ever wanted was to live free, like anyone else in the world.
— — —
The serpent still stared at the bird beside her, confusion in her eyes, as Noah—now seated—said,
— So that's how it is. You only step in when I'm in dire straits, right?
The bird simply nodded at Noah without a word. Yet the serpent—uneasy, slightly nervous, and still refusing to accept or reject Noah's proposal—had suddenly become the focus of their attention. She turned her head and hissed:
— You don't need to keep staring at me, because I'll never let this human use my powers, no matter what.
"Why say that…?" the bird asked gently.
Snapping, the serpent whirled on her friend:
— What do you mean 'why'? I'd rather vanish than submit to that!
Noah paused, searching for an answer but finding none. Finally, he asked,
— Why such hatred for humans? Or better yet, why hate me? As far as I know, I've never harmed you… well, except just now… but you were about to attack me, so even, right?
"How old are you exactly?" the bird asked.
"Well… technically twenty, I think—why?" Noah replied, thinking to himself, 'I've only been in this world a few days… but that seems irrelevant now.'
"I see. Of course you wouldn't know. If you were a bit older, you might understand why there's so much hatred. Think on the order of millennia… five hundred years or more, I'm not certain."
"A bit older…?" Noah murmured, incredulous.
"Some time ago, when beings far beyond human understanding ruled these lands, many humans launched a massive, bloody hunt for creatures like us—born with a drop of blood from… special beings. Those who could evolve into something else."
Confused, he asked,
— What do you mean by 'something else'…?
"Look, although I am practically a phoenix, I cannot — and should not — be considered a full phoenix. My death proves it. Phoenixes don't die, at least not permanently; they remain 'dead' for brief periods and, once their bodies are fully ablaze, rise again from their own ashes. But I've probably been dead for years, and as you saw, I stayed that way."
"So what did you need to become a real phoenix? What was missing?"
"What was missing?" The bird made a sound like a chuckle, then continued:
— Well, that's a pretty simple question: power, isn't it obvious? Everything in this world comes down to how powerful you are. Whether it's the power of money—which you humans invented long ago—or the purest, most overwhelming force: the power to pull you back from the brink of death. That was the power I lacked. For me and…
"But in the end, doesn't death come for everyone? Even phoenixes?"
"Listen, human, what you said contains a kernel of truth, but it isn't entirely correct. There are many beings who seek to prolong their lives to the maximum — you humans are a prime example. Yet there are also those destined for the summit from birth; that summit is inhabited only by true monsters. Monstrosities nearly completely immortal — and even creatures who, after death, return to life. It is at that level that phoenixes dwell, and they are clearly among those monstrosities roaming the world, side by side with true dragons."
Noah smiled.
— So you're telling me these beings are just born immortal by luck?
"Technically, yes," the bird nodded.
— But 'almost immortal' is more accurate. They can still be killed. And though phoenixes always return after dying, few know there's a way to stop it.
"And how would that work?"
The bird averted its gaze.
— That's something you don't need to know.
"…But what if I meet a phoenix one day?"
"Don't say that. Don't even think about those beings. Because if you do, not even we can help you."
Watching the bird's serious expression, Noah couldn't help wondering:
'So phoenixes really are that powerful… How terrifyingly strong must a dragon be?'