Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 59: Plight of An Old Bird.

Chapter 59: Plight of An Old Bird.

BOOM!

The impact sounded like thunder crashing against stone.

A shockwave burst from the collision.

When Riven’s fist struck, it created a golden circular plate of energy that rebounded the two sword-like wings the moment they hit it.

The rebound carried his own fist intent and blasted back toward the Divine Eagle.

The grotesque raptor-like creature, renowned for its brutal strength, was launched from its position in mid-air.

When the shockwave reached the girls, Nysalea’s eyes went wide.

She had felt that strike.

Even from this distance, the wave of force had pushed against her skin.

"...He knocked it back in one punch."

Selene’s expression didn’t change.

"Riven’s strength isn’t something birds, beasts, or men can measure easily. His martial intent and existence... were all born for conquest."

She said it lightly, as if it were a matter of fact.

He didn’t need any martial arts techniques.

The sheer force of the punch Riven Ashvale had thrown earlier was terrifying enough to shatter a cliff face or even reverse a mountain stream.

It had landed with such brutal simplicity, such unrelenting weight, that it sent shockwaves through the very air.

The grotesque divine creature, ugly, proud, scarred by time and battles, was powerful, yes.

But it was still just a beast.

It had no specialized true energy circulating through its body, no inner world of cultivated energy to brace its frame.

Their bodies were incredibly strong. Vitality was incredibly pure. Endurance was top-notch.

And no ordinary innate ascendant could find this monster... but...

How could it possibly withstand a punch from someone like him?

It couldn’t.

The bird hit the ground with a heavy crash. Feathers, already sparse, flew up like withered petals in the breeze.

The divine eagle bounced twice, sending rubble everywhere, and skidded across the flat mountain plain for about two hundred meters before coming to a stop.

One of its wings twitched. Blood trickled from its flank.

There was a large gash in its rib section; blood seeped out mercilessly.

Moonlight spilled across the ridge, painting the jagged mountains in silver, and casting long shadows that danced with the night wind.

The valley was still. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.

A second later, Riven landed smoothly on a single foot on the flat surface. His grace remained evident even amid the chaos.

Riven walked forward casually, his hands behind his back.

"Brother Bird," he said, voice light but not mocking.

"I know you’ve already developed your spirit. I know you understand me."

He stopped a few paces short of the fallen creature, who now eyed him with one beady, begrudging eye.

"We didn’t come to take anything from you. We came to pay our respects. That’s all. We’re not your enemy."

From a sleeve, he pulled out a porcelain bottle and popped the cap.

A rich, herbal scent drifted into the air.

"This is a Minor Recovery pill," Riven said softly.

"It’ll heal those wounds of yours. The ones I caused and those caused by my Solwing.

If you’re willing to bury the grudge, it’s yours."

The bird didn’t move.

But its gaze flicked, not toward Riven, but toward the golden-crowned crane behind him.

Then to Selene Virelyn and Nysalea Nightsilver, who stood flanking the scene.

Four against one?

It shifted slightly. Even beasts understood numbers. Tactics.

Unfair!

Was this how humans treated honest birds?

Weren’t humans the ones always spouting about honor and fairness and justice?

And now here they were, ganging up, trying to bribe him - an old eagle - with medicine after knocking him out of the sky?

Hmm... though....the scent from that porcelain bottle.....mmm... slurp.

Tempting.

Rich, warm, nostalgic.

The scent took the bird back, back to when he was younger, smaller, and full of feathers, handsome as fuck.

Following a man with swords on his back and wine at his hip. A man who laughed loudly, fought fiercely, and always had something to share... meat, wine, pills.

In his solitude, he took care of the eagle. The only place he could find color.

There had been days of hunger.

Days of glory.

Days of flight through bloody skies.

But those moments around campfires, sharing meals, those were his fondest memories.

Back then, even spicy snake meat had tasted divine.

Now?

Now, everything tasted like fatigue and regret and desolation.

Pusiqu snakes were nourishing, sure, but a hundred years of eating them raw made you dream of anything else.

It blinked.

A feather drifted off its neck and fluttered to the dirt.

This was its life now.

Featherless.

Alone.

Old.

And now... after a century, this brat had offered medicine. Medicine that he knew the value of.

Maybe... maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal.

Then, without another thought, it struck. Snapping the medicine bottle from his hand with his enormous beak.

Riven watched this with a smile.

CRACK!

With a single motion, its hooked beak snapped the bottle in half. Porcelain shards and all, it swallowed the ten Minor Recovery pills whole.

Not even a grimace.

Then it turned.

Sat down like a human. Cross-legged. Closed its eyes.

And began digesting.

Before their eyes, the open gash along its ribcage began to seal. Bruises faded. Color returned to its dull eyes.

Nysalea watched in awe.

"This bird..." she whispered, "it’s become a spirit beast."

Selene nodded slowly beside her.

"All things have spirits. With time... and enough exposure to humans... they begin to reflect us."

Behind them, Solwing, the golden-crowned immortal crane, scraped his talons along the ground.

Then it tilted its head toward Riven and gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

Riven turned his head slowly.

"...What now?"

The crane didn’t answer.

Instead, it kicked a patch of dirt dramatically and let out a long, echoing call.

Fluttering its wings, it let out gusts of air, lifting up the dirt.

[A/N: If it makes things easier to visualise, the bird was written with inspiration from Toothless from the How to Train Your Dragon cartoon]

Riven sighed.

"Seriously? You too?"

He reached into his sleeve, pulled out another bottle of Minor Recovery pills, and handed it over.

Solwing snatched it with practiced elegance.

Unlike the divine bird, who had swallowed everything like a drunk eating glass, the crane used its beak to gently pop the cork.

It tilted its long neck, poured the pills into its beak, then elegantly discarded the bottle behind it with a flick.

The whole act was graceful. Stylish. Borderline smug.

Even Riven couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Show-off."

He had to keep these two birds happy because they would be his tickets to hunt the rare and ’extinct’ Pusiqu snakes.

Something told him the reason those creatures were almost ’extinct’ was this old eagle right here...

...

The next morning came wrapped in drifting mist.

The valley was shrouded in a haze of silver and grey, with light filtering through like a dream.

Snake hisses echoed faintly.

So did bird calls.

Last night, they went to the city, grabbed some camping tools, spare clothes, and food, and then decided to camp out here for the night.

Riven tried to let the girls sleep in the inn, but they insisted on coming. However, they might have regretted it quite a short time afterward.

This morning, they woke up. Riven had a wash in the nearby creek, guarded outside until the girls finished their tasks too, and was now waiting.

They were normal people a couple of months ago, so the cultivator mentality of shrugging off dust with a gust of energy and fasting has not yet quite settled in.

It might never settle in, as Riven very much liked to indulge in mortal pleasures.

Riven stood near a ridge, arms folded, watching the Divine Eagle and Solwing return from their hunt.

Each of them dragged a Pusiqu snake behind them, thick, writhing, and at least seven meters in length.

He whistled. "Damn. Good haul."

Nysalea stepped beside him and murmured, "If little sister Eeva saw this, she’d probably cry from happiness."

Selene turned at the name. "Eeva?"

Girls typically hated snakes. But this one...?

"Yeah", Nysalea nodded. "Yvhaelin Thatcher."

Selene tilted her head slightly, "Eevalin?"

Nysalea: "Yes, that’s how her name is pronounced. "It’s written Y.v.h.a.e.l.i.n.... but pronounced ’ee-VA-leen’. The little girl is adamant about her name being spelled right."

Saying that, she chuckled to herself, remembering the bright little gremlin running around her, mad at her for pronouncing her name wrong.

"She’s been trained in poison arts since she was a toddler," Nysalea explained. "In her hands, even the most venomous creatures turn obedient. She treats them like pets."

Selene raised a brow, visibly intrigued. "Tang Sect from the Southwest? Or the Ottesen clan from the Eastern Frostlands?"

Both were famous poison or medicine-based martial families.

Nysalea shook her head. "Neither. Her lineage is unknown, but not inferior. It’s something to do with her physique... I think"

Selene’s eyes sparkled. "Now I really want to meet her."