Chapter 3: Whips, Pebbles, and the Mystical Sect of Two
What could possibly go wrong? Apparently, everything.
"Listen well, strange bird!" he declared, his voice booming directly into my mind with that now-familiar telepathic magic. "My name is Song Shu! From this day onward, you shall address me as 'Master Song!' I shall be your guide, your mentor, and your beacon of awesomeness in this world of cultivation!"
He twirled his fluffy tail like a general rallying troops before a battle. "Through blood, sweat, and an unreasonable amount of pain, I shall forge you into a being worthy of standing among the stars! You shall not just survive, you shall thrive!"
I stared at him, my beak slightly ajar, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or start running in the opposite direction. The sheer amount of conviction pouring out of that tiny squirrel was enough to cow a small army.
Still, what else could I do?
The moment I officially accepted Song Shu as my master, my life transformed… Or rather, it took a hard nosedive into absurdity. Song Shu, who insisted I address him as "Master Song" with the utmost reverence, did not waste time easing me into this so-called cultivation journey.
No, he immediately began screaming at me. Not yelling, mind you… screaming, with the force of a thousand wronged ancestors, using a technique he proudly introduced as "Qi Speech."
Apparently, Qi Speech was a special method that allowed one to project one's voice directly into another's mind, even bypassing language barriers. It explained why we could still communicate despite me not knowing a single word of the local common tongue. Useful, yes. Pleasant? Absolutely not when it involved being berated nonstop.
Time passed rather quickly... Days? Weeks?
"Is that the best you can do?!" roared Master Song, his tiny squirrel body vibrating with outrage as he cracked his makeshift whip at me. I stumbled, desperately trying to keep the smooth, annoying pebble balanced perfectly on the tip of my beak. My feathers bristled with the effort, and every muscle in my awkward bird body ached. Just why balancing a pebble was considered an essential exercise for cultivation training, I had no idea. All I knew was that Master Song had declared it "necessary to temper both the body and the spirit" before I could even dream of learning any real techniques.
I hopped sideways, narrowly dodging another stinging flick of his whip made of intertwined spiritual grass. My wings flailed wildly as the pebble threatened to fall, my heart racing in panic. Master Song was relentless. He circled me, shouting corrections and insults in equal measure, like a drill sergeant whose sole mission was to make my life miserable. Each dodge, each breath, was an exercise in raw survival.
"How will you face the tribulations of the heavens if you can't even handle a pebble, you pigeon-brained fool?!" he barked.
"I'm not a pigeon!" I squawked indignantly, though I was pretty sure it only came out as an angry nasal "du-duuuh!"
Time had become a blurry, shapeless thing since my induction into what Master Song proudly called the "Magical Beast Sect." Sect population: one eccentric squirrel and one very unlucky dodo bird. It wasn't much of a sect, honestly, more like an abusive support group. But the view was fantastic. Our sect was perched atop a small mountain situated on the edge of a sprawling, ancient forest. To the other side, the sea stretched endlessly, its waters glinting under the sun like spilled treasures. The wind smelled fresh, carrying the scents of salt, flowers, and distant pine.
At the mountain's crown stood a giant tree… so colossal and ancient it defied reason. Its trunk was thicker than a hundred men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, its branches clawed at the heavens themselves. Roots the size of small rivers snaked around the rocky slopes, burrowing deep into the ground. I sometimes wondered if the tree was part of some forgotten legend. It had that kind of presence, like it was waiting patiently for something… or someone.
Normally, I would have enjoyed the breathtaking scenery. Maybe even sat under the tree and contemplated life like a proper cultivation protagonist. But, of course, my life was currently dedicated to not getting whipped by an angry squirrel with a martial arts complex.
Finally, after what felt like years but was probably only a few brutal hours, Master Song retrieved his whip, tucked it neatly into his tiny belt, and crossed his arms, looking pleased. "That's enough for today," he declared with all the authority of a general commanding an army.
I collapsed onto the grass, the pebble rolling away unnoticed. Every part of me hurt. Muscles I didn't even know birds had were screaming in protest. I laid there, beak open, chest heaving, wondering… not for the first time… if I had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Master Song, of course, had no such doubts. He puffed out his chest, beamed like he had just single-handedly saved the world, and muttered, "Yes, yes… you'll be ready in no time. Just need to beat the mortal weakness out of you."
I wanted to cry. Or maybe go back to that snake burrow and let fate take me after all.
Still, deep inside, a small stubborn ember refused to die. If this was what it took to survive in this insane world, to avoid ending up roasted over a campfire or stuffed as a decoration in someone's immortal palace, then so be it. I would balance a mountain of pebbles if I had to.
But right now? Right now, I was going to lay here like a half-dead feather duster and pretend the world didn't exist for just a little longer.
It didn't take long before I dozed off right where I lay, sprawled out like a flattened pancake. Sleep, sweet sleep, claimed me before I could even contemplate moving. Unfortunately, what awaited me wasn't the restful dreamscape of bliss I desperately needed. No, I found myself trapped in another nightmare, one that suspiciously resembled my day-to-day training horrors.
In the dream or perhaps memory, I was forced through a never-ending parade of torturous exercises. I squawked miserably as dream-me struggled to perform squats, my stubby legs trembling like overcooked noodles with every agonizing motion. Then there was the swimming.
Oh heavens, the swimming. Song Shu had quite literally thrown me into the river, screaming something about "building endurance." I flapped my wings frantically as I bobbed like an awkward, flightless balloon, trying not to drown while Master Song lounged comfortably on a nearby rock, sipping some sort of fruit juice.
Then came the racing. Against an alligator, no less. I remember standing frozen at the riverbank, staring at the reptilian monster as it grinned at me with far too many teeth. Master Song had gleefully announced that the "threat of death" was the best motivator for speed. Thus, I had run… or rather waddled… like my life depended on it, because it genuinely did.
Finally, the worst of the memories: the tree chopping. With my beak! Every day, I pecked away at a massive tree trunk, feeling my skull vibrate with every painful impact. Splinters flew, my head throbbed, and Master Song would simply nod sagely and say, "Excellent! Only twenty thousand more pecks to go."
Despite all the pain, the frustration, and the growing suspicion that my squirrel master was actually a sadist in disguise, I couldn't deny one thing. I was stronger. I could feel it in my body… the wiry strength in my legs, the increasing sharpness of my beak, the growing coordination in my movements.
In just a few months of hellish training, I had evolved from a pitiful berry-picking dodo into... well, a slightly more capable pitiful dodo. Progress, I supposed. Not that I would ever admit it aloud.
I woke up sore, every feather and muscle complaining as I stretched stiffly. It was night already. The sky above was a velvety expanse, punctuated with glittering stars and the soft silver glow of the twin moons hanging lazily over the horizon. The fire crackled warmly nearby, and I turned my gaze toward it.
Master Song sat cross-legged by the bonfire, his small silhouette looking wise and ancient against the dancing flames. Several fish, freshly caught and pierced through with sticks, roasted over the fire, their skin sizzling and crackling tantalizingly. The rich aroma of cooked fish filled the air, making my stomach rumble loudly.
Without looking at me, Master Song spoke, his voice amused. "I developed a taste for cooked food after mingling with humans for so long. I hope you don't mind, little one."
He gestured casually toward the fish, and I didn't need to be told twice. With a happy squawk, I waddled over, awkwardly yanking the fish off the stick with my beak and devouring it whole. The flavor exploded in my mouth… oily, smoky, and just the right amount of salty. It was, without a doubt, the best thing I had ever eaten in this world. Admittedly, I suspected my sense of taste had changed since becoming a dodo, but still. It was glorious.
While I feasted like a starved beast, Master Song leaned back, poking the fire lazily with a stick. His voice softened, falling into that familiar storytelling tone he seemed to favor when the mood struck him.
"Once upon a time," he began, "I was part of a small sect. We called ourselves the Verdant Tail Sect. A humble place, not known for strength or glory, but for compassion. We believed that small beasts, big beasts, and any life under the heavens deserved a chance to live and be loved."
I slowed my eating, listening intently even as grease dripped from my beak. It was rare for Master Song to talk about his past, and something in his voice tonight made me pause.
"We nurtured squirrels, rabbits, birds, even insects if they showed promise," he continued, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "We believed every being had potential, no matter their size or origin. But... idealism is a dangerous thing in a world ruled by power."
His voice grew bitter, edged with a sorrow that I hadn't heard before. I didn't interrupt. I simply sat there, full and drowsy, listening to the only person… squirrel or otherwise… who had shown me kindness in this strange world.
Master Song fell silent for a while, staring into the flames. Finally, he chuckled dryly. "Well, that's a story for another time. For now, rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."
My feathers prickled at the ominous tone he used for "real training," but the fish-induced food coma quickly dragged me into another sleep before I could worry too much.
That night, for the first time in a long while, no dreams came to me. No wistful memories of Earth, no vivid nightmares of training horrors either. It was just an endless dark, quiet, and oddly comforting. I suppose I missed Earth. I missed its familiar smells, its towering concrete forests, the absurdity of online memes, and the way coffee tasted bitter yet perfect on tired mornings. Still, I pushed those thoughts deep into the back of my mind.
Nostalgia would not help me survive here. Before I could even entertain silly fantasies of somehow returning home, I needed to focus. First came survival. Then came power. Only after that could I even dare to think about anything else.
When I woke up, the bonfire that had once warmed the night had reduced itself to a circle of charred ash and faint embers. I blinked groggily, the crisp morning air ruffling my feathers, and glanced around. Master Song was nowhere in sight. I ruffled my feathers nervously. He was usually the first to be up, barking orders or lecturing me with that booming telepathic voice of his.
Instead of panicking, I decided to start warming up on my own. Master Song would have scolded me if I wasted the morning, after all.
I began the familiar routine he had devised for me… squatting low, my stumpy legs trembling slightly as I tried to maintain balance. After a set of squats that left my thighs burning, I ran a clumsy circle around the base of the giant holy tree that crowned our small mountain. Then came climbing. I hopped up to the trunk and scrabbled uselessly at the bark, managing to ascend a few miserable feet before sliding back down with an undignified thud.
Squat, run, climb, fall.
Squat, run, climb, fall.
Cycle after cycle, I threw myself into the work, sweat… or whatever counted as sweat for a dodo… dripped from my brow. I had no idea how much time passed, only that the morning turned into afternoon, and my limbs felt like wet noodles. Yet strangely, I found solace in the repetition.
"Mwahahaha~! I don't feel tired at all!"
Food was no longer an issue now that Master Song took care of it. In fact, if I compared my current life to the days before meeting him, the difference was night and day. Back then, it was a constant fight for survival. Now, even with the hellish training, I had stability, shelter, and more importantly, someone else to talk to besides myself. I no longer needed to mutter madly under my breath just to cling to my sanity. For the first time since reincarnating, I could breathe a little easier.
Still, as another cycle ended, a gnawing worry crept into my heart. Where was Master Song? Had something happened to him?
Just as I was about to head into the woods in search of him, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I turned and saw him striding back toward me, dragging a bulging sack almost as big as himself.
Before I could even open my beak, a thin strand of Qi snaked out from Master Song and latched onto my mind like a thread pulling taut.
"Master! Where have you been?!" I cried out through our telepathic link, my voice shrill with a mixture of relief and panic.
Master Song only smirked, or at least I thought it was a smirk; it was always hard to tell with squirrels. He stabbed his great sword dramatically into the earth beside him and, with a magician's flourish, flipped open the sack.
Inside lay a round, black object that looked disturbingly like a cross between a muddy truffle and a cannonball. The thing radiated a heavy, earthy smell that immediately made me want to gag.
"It's time to awaken your spiritual roots," Master Song declared with all the grandeur of an emperor announcing a new era. "Your path to cultivation is just starting, young pigeon!"
No! I am not a pigeon… Never mind…
He launched into a lecture without missing a beat, as if he hadn't just terrified me by disappearing half the day. According to him, all humans in this world were born with spiritual roots, though the quality varied wildly between individuals. Some were blessed with golden roots that made cultivation as easy as breathing. Others had roots so poor that they struggled to progress even after decades of effort.
Beasts, however, were different. Our spiritual roots lay dormant at birth. Only when a beast ignited the 'spark of wisdom' could the roots be awakened. Without it, we remained no better than ordinary animals.
Master Song paced around me as he spoke, his tiny paws making little crunches in the dirt. "I always found you strange," he mused aloud. "You have the spark of wisdom, clear as day, yet no awakened roots. It's... unusual. Very unusual."
I swallowed hard, staring at the grotesque black pill like it might bite me first. I didn't know whether I should feel honored or terrified.
"Anyway," Master Song said, waving his tiny paw dismissively, "dig in. This Awakening Pill should trigger your roots properly."
I stared at the pill doubtfully. It looked like it had been unearthed from a compost heap and forgotten for a century. There was absolutely nothing about its appearance that inspired confidence. My stomach churned nervously.
Was this really safe? Or was this going to end with me exploding into colorful dodo confetti?
Still, I knew Master Song wouldn't offer it if it wasn't necessary. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.
Taking a deep breath, I waddled forward, steeling my nerves. Whatever fate awaited me, I had already decided long ago… this world would not break me. If becoming strong meant eating dirt-flavored cannonballs, so be it.
With a resigned squawk, I opened my beak wide and chomped down on the black pill.
!!!