Reborn as a Demonic Tree

Chapter 440: Tears in the Rain

Sullivan looked down at the murky tea with small black seeds floating on the surface with a mixed expression. Despite its somewhat questionable appearance, it had a tantalizingly sweet aroma.

”Whatʼs wrong?” Mary asked from across the table.

Sullivan glanced up at her, ”You said you wouldnʼt poison my drink.”

Mary shrugged, ”I didnʼt promise that. I just said that mortals arenʼt as ruthless as cultivators,” she smiled, ”sometimes.”

Sullivan closed his eyes, feeling the energies from the tea flowing through his ruined spirit roots and out into the rest of his body. His ability to cultivate was slowly being restored, and he wasnʼt sure how he felt about it.

I canʼt believe she used those super valuable fruits the Princess gave me to make simple tea.

”What are you going to do now?” Mary asked.

”Mhm? What do you mean?” Sullivan murmured without opening his eyes.

”Are you going to kill me? I dared to poison your tea after all.”

Sullivan shook his head at the ridiculous comment and chuckled. He met her gaze momentarily before looking back at the warm drink. ”Itʼs good tea—life-changing even.” He cupped it with his hands and took in the aroma. ”Thank you.”

”Youʼre welcome.”

A silence fell between them, but it wasnʼt uncomfortable. Like two old friends, they enjoyed the drum of the rain on Maryʼs run-down house. Sullivan cycled between taking sips of the cooling tea, looking around Maryʼs simple but functional dining and kitchen area, and thinking what to say.

She was a mortal who he had abused as a cultivator. Despite living on the same street, that was about all they had shared in common until now. He had been a godlike being able to control the world around him and had the wealth enjoyed by only the other nobles and cultivators of the city. Meanwhile, Mary had been a struggling single mother after her husband passed away. In fact, she had been so desperate she had begged him for work.

Sullivan sighed. He used to spend weeks or sometimes months sitting alone and cultivating, yet the silence seemed almost deafening now. He wanted to say something but was unsure where to start.

Thatʼs when he remembered her question from earlier.

”Iʼm not going to be a slave anymore.” He said, looking at Mary, who had been picking up a bowl of small fruits. ”Thatʼs what Iʼm going to do from now on.”

”To whom?” Mary raised a brow. ”The Ashfallen Sect?”

Sullivan shuddered as he remembered when the Princess caught him in the basement of his brothel and her bone-chilling gaze that looked at him as if she could crush him with a thought.

She called me her ʼpet,ʼ whatever that is supposed to mean. But after giving me the fruits to restore my cultivation, she hasnʼt made an effort to contact me again. Has she forgotten about me?

Either way, there was likely no escaping the Ashfallen Sectʼs grasp. Their rule across the wilderness was now absolute, with the death of its old ruler, Vincent Nightrose.

”Escape the Ashfallen Sect? Donʼt make me laugh. We are all slaves to the Ashfallen Sect at this point, though I suppose some are more than others...” He shook his head, ”Itʼs the heavens I refuse to be enslaved by again.”

”The heavens?” Mary inquired, curious in her tone. ”What is it like?”

Sullivan raised a brow, ”What do you mean by ʼwhat is it likeʼ?”

”To cultivate,” Mary clarified, ”Iʼve heard stories but never had the chance to speak to a cultivator like this before. Usually, they are busy demanding me to step aside or give spirit stones for looking their way.” She picked out a fruit and chewed it with a look of contemplation, ”From the stories, at least, it sounds like a paradise being a cultivator, though. So Iʼm confused about what enslaved you?”

Sullivan leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms, ”The rat race, I suppose. Thatʼs what I will be free of this time around.”

”The rat race?”

”Chasing power in all regards, money, status, and cultivation is ultimately pointless. Thereʼs always a higher mountain to climb in every aspect of life.” Sullivan shrugged, ”It took me losing everything to realize itʼs life itself that should be cherished and not to constantly greed for more.”

”Thatʼs quite a unique perspective for a cultivator to hold,” Mary mused, ”They usually have their sights set so high they donʼt even see the ground beneath their feet. Hell, sometimes they land and crush mortals into a pulp and donʼt even look down to see what is wetting their feet.”

Sullivan nodded, ”Thatʼs so true. I buried so many arrogant cultivators into the dirt I canʼt even remember them all.” He shook his head, ”They really should just look at the great tree lording over Red Vine Peak and cease their silly ambitions.”

”So youʼre giving up?” Mary asked.

”Giving up what? My participation in an endless race to the mythical top?” He smirked, ”Absolutely. Whatʼs the point of living a longer life just to spend most of it cultivating heavensʼ whispers and fighting for your life over resources? Itʼs better to live in the moment, take it all in, and know thereʼs a day it will come to an end.”

Mary nodded, taking in his words. ”But what about immortal life?”

”A myth.” He replied without hesitation. ”The lie all cultivators are motivated by. I mean, look at me? If not for the kindness of the Ashfallen Sect, my soul would be entering the cycle of reincarnation, and I had dedicated everything to that dream of immortality.”

”So,” Mary paused as she ate another fruit, ”you still havenʼt told me what youʼre going to do now.”

”Live life,” Sullivan shrugged, ”I have no goals or aspirations. I should have died, yet I was given a second chance.”

”Enjoy the simple things in life, eh?” Mary muttered as she stared out of the window. It was evening now, so the room had darkened considerably as the storm continued to rage outside. Other than the candle Mary had lit an hour prior, the room was illuminated by constant flashes of lightning.

While the conversation had been rather light-hearted, it was impossible to ignore the heavy mood in the room. While there was evidence all around that this now run-down house had once been a family house filled with life, laughter, and memories, it was now an empty shell—much like Mary opposite him. While she laughed or smiled at his little remarks, her eyes carried a deep sadness.

Perhaps this is why cultivators have such a different view of family. Sullivan thought.

He remembered the day he had been told another cultivator had cut down his brother. His reaction? Rage. The idea that some weakling could strike down his brother made his blood boil, but he didnʼt feel sad even when he got revenge. His brother had died due to his own weakness. It was simply fate.

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Yet there was something almost beautiful about sadness. It meant the person cared about the otherʼs life, and their absence left something in its wake.

Most importantly, it meant life itself had meaning. People didnʼt get sad over the setting of the sun because they knew it would rise again. But death? That was permanent.

A gong went off, not inside his head, but it reverberated throughout the house, shaking everything ever so slightly.

”What was that?” Sullivan asked. Without the spiritual senses he had once enjoyed as a powerful cultivator, he felt blind to the world around him.

”Itʼs likely time,” Mary stood, her face solemn, ”for the grand funeral to begin.” She turned to the table behind her, where three piles of seemingly random belongings were carefully laid out. She studied them intently, her hand drifting over them.

Sullivan watched silently as Maryʼs hand paused over a few items, her expression shifting between smiles and grief. She considered carefully but eventually picked out three items.

A smoking pipe, a teddy bear with one of its eyes hanging loosely from a thread, and finally, a toy sword.

”What are those for?” Sullivan asked as softly as possible to avoid intruding on the somber mood.

”The cult of the All-Seeing Eye told us to bring the most prized possession once owned by our loved ones that passed,” Mary said while sniffling, ”This pipe was my husbandʼs—he loved to smoke after a dayʼs work at the mines. I always told him it was terrible for his health, but he never quit. Sometimes I joked this pipe got more action than I did... hah.” She turned to Sullivan and held up the well-used wooden pipe, ”He lived and died by this thing, so if there was anything that would hold a little of his spirit, itʼs this piece of wood.”

Sullivan nodded in understanding, ”And the teddy and the sword?”

”My childrenʼs prized possessions. This is ʼLittle Brown,ʼ a teddy cuddled to death by my eldest daughter, Mira. She insisted that she had stopped needing him to fall asleep a few years ago, but she still kept Little Brown in her bed at all times and refused to let me throw it out despite how terrible his condition is,” Mary chuckled. ”As for this wooden sword? It belonged to my youngest son, Rowan. He looked up to cultivators like you and begged me for a wooden sword for his eighth birthday. He insisted that he would become a powerful cultivator one day to protect us from the scary monsters and used this sword to practice in our garden. I suppose it was a silly kid dream at the time until the Ashfallen Trading Company made it possible.”

”Iʼm sure Rowan would have made a fine cultivator,” Sulivan said as he stood, ”one with a heart of gold.”

Mary nodded sadly, ”I think so, too.”

A second gong went off. More powerful than the last.

”We should go,” Mary suggested, and Sullivan nodded. ”Take this,” she handed him a dark blue cloak with a slightly shiny surface. ”Itʼs a rain cloak—it was my husbandʼs, but he hardly used it.”

”I couldnʼt possibly,” Sullivan started, but he was silenced by the cloak being pushed into his chest.

”Just take it.” Mary said with finality, ”Tonight is for grieving, and tomorrow will be a new dawn. I want to... move on. Seeing stuff from my family everywhere I look has turned this place into a prison.”

”I understand,” Sullivan said, adoring the cloak. It fit him surprisingly well despite his large build.

Makes sense; her husband was a miner. A truly tough job for mortals, but it also paid well enough to eat like a king.

Sullivan looked over at Mary, but she seemed too absorbed in looking at the items in her hands. So, he decided to take the lead. Opening the door, he stepped out into the storm. The road was still a flowing river of mud, and his muscles tensed from the cold wind.

He used to look down on mortals, but honestly, their lives were far harder than that of a cultivator. Such weather wouldnʼt have phased him before, but now it felt almost life-threatening. Other doors on the street opened, and people peeked out. Some were alone, and others were couples. He even saw one doorway with two grief-stricken kids carrying what looked to be clothes that had belonged to their parents.

”Not the best weather for a funeral,” Mary said as she came to stand at his side. Her tone was light-hearted, yet a tear was running down her face.

”True,” Sullivan said, looking away out of respect, ”But perhaps everyoneʼs grief will be washed away like tears in the rain.”

A third gong echoed out across the land, drawing both of their attention toward its source. Red Vine Peak.

Sullivan squinted through the rain and couldnʼt believe what he was seeing. The clouds... were being devoured. Branches of black mist that seemed to eat away at the world spread out from the great tree across the sky. The storm in its wake didnʼt stand a chance, and the setting sun streaked through the gaps in the branches, bathing the city in its warmth for the first time in weeks.

Did the Ashfallen Sect just change the weather? Sullivan was in disbelief.

”I never realized how much I missed the sun,” Mary said with a genuine smile as she gazed up. Likely not understanding the significance of what had just happened as a mortal. The amount of Qi that had just been expended was frightening.

Sullivan pursed his lips as he also soaked in the sunshine, ”Itʼs easy to get content with things until one day they are gone.” With the rain ceasing, the river of mud relaxed somewhat but was still a mess.

Mary tested it with her foot, and it sank into the muck. She tried to pull her foot back, only to leave her shoe behind. ”Maybe barefoot would be easier,” she sighed.

”Yeah...” Sullivan trailed off as he felt a warm wind for this time of the year. Looking toward Red Vine Peak again, he saw multiple blazing balls trailing fire through the sky. The air shimmered below them as they radiated intense heat.

They may look like miniature stars to others, but he knew they were more than that. They were living stars—cultivators that had transcended the stage he had reached and formed literal blazing stars of Qi inside their bodies.

To reach such a stage required centuries of cultivation and access to a ridiculous number of resources. Yet, there were multiple of them.

Fire affinity Star Core cultivators are likely members of the Redclaw family in service to the Ashfallen Sect. Sullivan narrowed his eyes. What are they doing, and since when were so many of them in the Star Core Realm?

He received his answer as one flew overhead. A nasty smell wafted up as the muck coating the road turned to steam, and the street instantly hardened into cracked ground from the heat.

Sullivan blinked. He hadnʼt known cultivation could be used in such a practical way. Especially fire affinity, which was best known for mass destruction wielded by hot-headed fools with a short fuse.

”People of Darklight City,” a voice carried through the heat by Qi came from the cultivator that had flown overhead, ”Please gather along the road between Darklight and Ashfallen City. Portals will be placed on major junctions to shorten the travel time.”

Sullivan glanced down the road, and sure enough, spatial Qi was gathering between two demonic trees positioned at a junction. It was unbelievable, but before his very eyes, he could see a legendary spatial portal tearing into existence.

A type of transportation only afforded by the Elders of Patriarchs of great sects said to only be possible with grand arrays known to devour spirit stones as if they were free. Yet there was a near-perfect portal opening so casually on a random street.

Sullivan sighed and muttered, ”So thatʼs what it looks like to win the rat race and wield the power of a god.”

With the streets hardened, the rain gone, and a portal turning a three-hour walk into a few-minute stroll, Sullivan walked alongside Mary and others from the street through the portal. The mortals were understandably hesitant to walk through the shimmering purple gate, so Sullivan, being an ex-cultivator, took the lead.

The feeling was seamless, like stepping through any other door. The only things to note were the fresh air and the intense smell of nature. Having moved from the slums of Darklight City to a long road flanked by soil and leading into a forest of demonic trees made perfect sense.

Other portals rippled into existence all along the road, and people began to pour through. Everyone clutched items in their hands and looked around with solemn or confused expressions.

Meanwhile, Sullivan was simply astounded by the level of power on display. Not only had the Ashfallen Sect changed the weather, but they had also made it as easy as possible for the mortals to enjoy the funeral.

Discussions began to break out between the mortals. By straining his hearing, he overhead exchanges of stories, usually revolving around the items they held, just like Mary had done with him.

Thatʼs when Sullivan realized something.

He was the only one without an item in his hand. He had nobody to bury.

Digging into his spatial ring with the little Qi he had in his body, he found something.

A small glowing stone.

To anyone else, it would hold no significance. But to him, it had a story.

My brother was always scared of the dark. He smiled, remembering how annoyed his brother had been whenever he had mentioned his fear of the dark as a child to others. The strong and proud cultivator his brother had grown up into threatened to strike him down if he dared to bring it up. Still, as the big brother, it was his heaven-given responsibility to embarrass his little brother at every opportunity. I nearly lost my arm over it once, but I think it was totally worth it.

”Whatʼs that?” Mary asked him.

”Just a dumb stone my brother used as a night light,” Sullivan chuckled as he played with it between his fingers, ”To think that idiot used to be scared of the dark.”

”Iʼm still scared of the dark sometimes,” a voice he didnʼt recognize said from behind. Turning, Sullivan froze. It was a little girl with green hair like grass decorated with white flowers. Behind her were two people he believed to be mortals, likely her parents.

However, everyone who cared about their life or listened to the rumors spread throughout Darklight City would instantly recognize this girl.

She was Jasmine, the beloved disciple of the Princess.