Chapter 3: Caged Bird
A full month had passed since the Heavenly Demon reincarnated into the body of Ling Yun.
During that time, he had locked himself away in the eastern wing of the Feng Clan palace. He accepted no visitors, answered no knocks, and even refused entry to the servants.
The members of the Ling Clan, however, were not surprised.
They knew their young lord well.
As one clan member passed by the manor, he sighed deeply.
"Young Master Ling gave everything for our clan's future.
He cultivated day and night to be accepted by that ancient immortal master.
He knelt for ninety days straight at the base of the sacred mountain,
just to prove he was worthy.
To ease the clan's financial burden, he personally gathered spirit herbs from dangerous mountains.
He even risked his life slaying demon beasts near our vassal villages.
And now, after all that…"
Another man shook his head bitterly.
"I don't understand why the heavens treat him so harshly.
He's a good man—with a kind heart, a righteous spirit, and a face that could shame immortals.
The fairest person I've ever known.
And yet… he's become a prisoner of the Feng Clan.
Like a bird in a gilded cage."
A third rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"But why has the young master sealed his doors?
He hasn't eaten. He hasn't left.
What if something's happened to him?"
The last man replied quietly.
"A few nights ago, I happened to see him staring out the window,
gazing at the sky.
He was dressed in long white robes,
but his eyes…
They held no light, no hope.
He's enduring something terrible…
I only pray he finds his way back to himself."
The group moved along, switching shifts with the next guards.
Inside the manor, Ling Yun sat cross-legged in silent meditation.
He wasn't healing.
He was surviving.
From the moment his soul merged with this body,
he had sensed a mark—
a curse seared onto his soul by the heavens themselves.
Reincarnation was a forbidden art.
A technique that defied the will of the heavens,
that circumvented Nirvanic law.
The price?
Unimaginable.
Even after centuries of refinement,
even after mastering the technique himself,
he—the former Heavenly Demon—had never found a way to bypass the penalty.
And this new body…
It was poisoned.
Its meridians corrupted.
Its cultivation crippled.
For weeks, he fought to stabilize its fractured Qi.
Day after day, night after night—
All to salvage whatever strength remained of Ling Yun's foundation.
Now, finally, after a full month of struggle…
He had restored the body to Second Layer of Qi Refinement.
A pitiful level—
But a foundation nonetheless.
And for now…
That was enough.
Midnight. The 30th day.
Ling Yun opened his eyes.
After an unbroken month of cultivation, he had finally stabilized his body. But the true challenge was only beginning.
"I've reincarnated… but at what cost?"
His thoughts were heavy, weighed down by the truth carved into his soul.
"The Curse of Dao... the Seal of Calamity.
Heaven has branded me.
Luck no longer favors me.
And now… I'm trapped at the Second Layer of Qi Refinement."
He stood up and opened the window. Cool night air washed over his face.
"Worse than that—my lifespan.
The heavens want me erased… no matter what."
He circulated his Qi slowly. Though stable, it was still fragile.
"Should I turn to demonic cultivation…?"
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he shook his head.
"No. The drawbacks are too many.
Demonic paths invite madness—
Rage, instability, a loss of self.
I don't need more chaos.
Not now."
What he needed—was power. Fast.
But there was a problem.
He was the Heavenly Demon, master of a thousand forbidden arts…
Yet every technique he had ever created belonged to the demonic path.
"To regain my strength,
I'll need orthodox techniques.
That means manuals.
Lots of them."
He turned his gaze skyward, watching stars flicker in the cold silence.
"Even if I can't find a complete method,
I'll combine fragments to forge one of my own."
He clenched his fist.
"Power.
It's the root of everything.
Without strength, even peace is just a naïve fantasy."
---
Morning came.
For the first time in a month, the eastern doors of Ling Yun's manor creaked open.
He stepped out, dressed in fresh robes. His posture was calm, dignified, his expression unreadable.
Two guards—both early Foundation Establishment realm—stood at attention. One of them stepped forward.
"Young Master Ling, may we ask where you're headed?"
Ling Yun offered a polite nod.
"The baths.
And perhaps… a visit to the library.
Living in this manor grows dull.
I need a way to pass the time."
The guards exchanged a quiet smirk—mocking, but silent. They didn't stop him.
They escorted him first to the spirit bathhouse, and later to a long, jade-tiled building engraved with the sigil of the Feng Clan.
Feng Clan Public Library.
Ling Yun didn't flinch at the words.
He hadn't expected entry to the inner sanctum reserved for Feng disciples.
No—this was exactly where he needed to be.
As he stepped through the arching doors, he murmured to himself:
"Every orthodox cultivation method has a clear lineage.
Each clan tailors their art to their elemental affinity.
The Feng Clan's sigil is the phoenix—
So their techniques will center around fire."
He looked around at the rows of ancient scrolls and worn manuals.
His lips curled into a faint smile.
"Let's see what the flames of righteousness have to offer…"
Ling Yun devoured books without pause—scrolls detailing the Feng Clan's origins, their poetic myths, and vague descriptions of long-lost techniques. He absorbed every line with focus, storing it all in the vast memory of his ancient soul.
After hours of study, he moved on to world history—scanning tales of ancient emperors, fallen sects, and great calamities—until the sun vanished beyond the horizon.
By the time he returned to his manor, his mind was brimming with scattered fragments of lore.
He closed his eyes and began sorting the knowledge, piece by piece. Using basic Qi flow principles and the spiritual nature of fire-based arts from the Feng clan, he attempted to forge a foundational breathing method—one compatible with his new body.
But…
Cough! Cough!
Blood splattered across the floor.
He gritted his teeth, hand trembling against his chest.
"Damn it...
Of course. The Dao Curse directly interferes with my cultivation…"
Once, his insight had been legendary.
The world whispered of the Heavenly Demon's divine intuition:
Basic techniques? One glance.
Intermediate skills? A few tries.
Advanced arts? Mastered within weeks.
But now?
That intuition was… gone.
He lay on his bed, exhausted, staring at the ceiling as a bitter thought crossed his mind:
"I have to find a way to bypass the curse.
With this level of luck—and that damned Seal of Calamity—
it's only a matter of time before Heaven finds a way to kill me."
As his thoughts wandered, a sudden clamor stirred him.
He blinked. Muffled voices echoed beyond the door.
Curious, Ling Yun rose and moved toward the noise.
From behind the wooden panel, he heard familiar voices:
"Where did you take our Young Lord without permission?!"
"You have no right to mistreat him!"
"We demand to see Young Lord Yun!"
"Young Master! Don't worry!
We'll protect you—no matter what!"
He stood there silently, listening.
A cynical smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Fools…
They don't even know their beloved master is already dead."
But then—suddenly—his chest tightened.
A searing pain stabbed through his lungs like a flaming spear.
He staggered backward, gasping.
"What the—?!
This body… it's reacting to their emotions?!"
The pain intensified. He collapsed, clutching his ribs, struggling to breathe.
His vision blurred. His fingers scraped against the wooden floor as he crawled toward the door.
With trembling hands, he unlatched it and opened it slightly.
And there—he saw them.
The loyal retainers of the Ling Clan…
Their eyes wide with concern.
Their expressions—genuine.
And in that moment… the pain lessened.
He stared in silence. Not as the Heavenly Demon. Not as a cultivator.
But as Ling Yun—
The boy they believed in.
The Heavenly Demon had discovered yet another complication—
This body instinctively reacted to the Ling Clan.
If he ever performed an action that endangered them,
there was no telling what calamity might befall him.
"This body… has a will of its own.
A powerful one—built to protect its people.
Damn it... Another curse to carry…"
Suppressing his rising frustration, Ling Yun rose to his feet, pulled the door open, and stepped outside.
He raised his voice:
"What's going on out here?"
The moment the Ling retainers saw him safe and upright, they brushed past the guards and rushed toward him.
"Young Master Yun! Thank the heavens you're alright!"
"We've been so worried! For an entire month, you vanished into solitude..."
"How could you be so hard on yourself?!"
Though inwardly fuming over the absurd turns his fate had taken,
Ling Yun kept his expression composed.
He offered a gentle smile and spoke calmly:
"I'm sorry for worrying you all.
I just… needed time to find myself again."
At that moment, an elderly woman who had served him for years suddenly collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Young Lord Yun!
Please forgive us!
It's our burden that holds you down!
You were meant to become a dragon soaring through the heavens…
Now you're caged because of us! We deserve nothing but death!"
Her sobs were raw and heart-wrenching.
Ling Yun's eyes softened.
He knelt beside her and gently took her trembling hand.
"You—the people of Ling—you're my family."
"Without you, I'm like a dragon stripped of its scales."
"How can I claim to be a dragon…
if I can't even protect my own scales?"
His voice was steady. Warm.
But deep within, the Heavenly Demon clenched his jaw.
"Damn this body...
It tugs at emotions I buried eons ago."
Yet in the glimmering eyes of the retainers, he saw something ancient and pure—
Loyalty that transcended death.