His fingers burned, reddening with every passing second, swelling more and more. Bare skin scraped against the rough rope without stopping. Heh—he hadn't known how to do this in his past life.
His hands seemed to move on their own, guided by experience buried deep in his flesh over a long stretch of time. Not his time—but perhaps now it was. A crooked smile spread across his face, and, as luck would have it, a salty taste filled his mouth. Disgusting, but tolerable.
Tu Heng tightened his grip. The last knot.
And… done.
He wiped the sweat from his face and unconsciously stepped back.
There it was—his trap. He had been working on it for about an hour. A giant bush—that was what Tu Heng decided to call it. Though maybe a two-headed tree would be better. That made sense: two low-growing trees with densely intertwined crowns. Still, the way they merged looked far too much like a massive bush.
Ah, whatever.
"Remember—look for large trees. Birds especially like them."
"Kekeke."
Tu Heng chuckled, recalling the advice. Thanks, Zhude.
Trembling, he reached inside his linen robe, feeling for the hidden pocket. Inside was a rolled-up piece of cloth. Carefully—so nothing shifted—he found the stem and pulled it free.
The sweet smell hit his nose again. Smiling, he twirled the sapphire in his fingers and stepped forward.
He pushed aside the curtain of lush leaves. Before him lay a mesh structure of ropes and knots—interlocking cells, just the right size for small birds or the leg of a larger one.
My mesh sand.
A faint shiver ran through him as he recalled the name of the trap—his trap.
Holding the foliage back with one hand, he tied the flower around the knot.
Done—or so he decided.
He released the leaves slowly, centimeter by centimeter. Then he checked several spots, touched the structure lightly, lifted the foliage again, sighed, and stepped back.
He counted twenty steps before his head bumped against a tree. Then he moved behind it and sat down, pressing his back against the trunk so closely he could feel the dry bark through his clothes. His smile hurt from clenched jaws, his heart tight in his chest, beating without slowing.
"Ugh."
He exhaled, clutching his stomach, which churned and ached. When he closed his eyes, thoughts crept back in—of her. The bird. The cursed blue bird. The creature that had stolen his sapphirosa.
Thud.
His back leaned harder against the trunk, his head knocking against the dry, ancient wood.
It was fine. One failure meant nothing. With his new trap—mesh sand—he had nothing to fear. The moment a feathered creature triggered it, the sound would alert him instantly.
He could rest now.
Yes. Everything would be fine.
Knock.
But how were the others doing?
Knock.
Had they caught birds just as clever?
Knock.
No—more important, why did he even care?
Knock.
Who were they to him? Just strangers he'd met along the way.
Knock.
A whole new world lay before him, one he was meant to conquer. He had no reason to worry about pebbles on the road.
Knock.
Yes. Exactly.
Knock!
"What the hell is that?!"
He sprang up, scanning the treetops—and froze.
She… he saw… a clump of blue down and feathers, a strip of cloth tied around her neck. The bird perched on a branch opposite him, holding a stone in its tiny claw and tapping it against the wood.
Was she smiling? Mocking him? Was that even possible?
Tu Heng didn't know—but his whole body shook.
"You—"
The word caught in his throat.
The bird flapped her wings, lifted off, and glided over his head.
The trap!
He bolted after her.
She was already circling above it, gaze fixed on a single point—the place where the scent was strongest.
The stone fell like a projectile.
Click.
Leaves rustled. Branches trembled. The spot where the stone struck twisted tight; the foliage thinned, exposing the rope.
The bird landed immediately, sniffed, and with a precise peck tore the flower free.
A heartbeat later, she shot upward.
Thud.
A stone flew past—then another, and another.
They missed, scattering uselessly.
From above, the blue bird watched, claws gripping a branch high in the tree.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Tu Heng shouted, clutching stones in his hands. "You started this—not me! So why are you chasing me, you animal?!"
The bird didn't answer.
The branch creaked as she hopped left, then right. She spread her wings, spun, paused, traced a half-circle, then hopped again, tail flicking.
Tu Heng watched, gripping the stones until his knuckles turned white.
She was… dancing?
His mouth fell open. His heart pounded. A scream burned in his chest.
But nothing came out—only a choke as saliva clogged his throat.
By the time he cleared it, the bird had finished.
She chirped briefly, then vanished into the foliage.
Tu Heng searched for her shape.
Only green. Everywhere.
She's still nearby, his inner voice insisted.
He kept glancing around, his chest tight, powerless.
His mind fogged over. His body moved on its own.
He packed the remaining ropes into a basket, hugged it to his chest, and trudged off in a random direction.
He didn't know where he was going. Only that he had to keep moving. If he stayed, the bird wouldn't leave him alone.
He lost track of time. His stomach, twisted painfully, was the only measure he had. Every rustle made him stop, turn, listen.
Then—looking back once more—he tripped.
What was wrong with him… again? He wasn't even drunk this time.
Tu Heng pushed himself up and stared at what had caught his foot: a small root jutting from the ground.
He followed it with his eyes—and froze.
A hill—though that was generous. Just a raised mound, about twice a man's height. At its top stood a tree, dry and lifeless.
But that wasn't what caught his attention.
A hole. An opening wide enough for him to enter.
A chance.
He stood, grabbed the basket, and headed inside.
Crouching, he crawled in. Past the entrance, he straightened into a half-squat and immediately hit the wall.
Turning, he pressed his back against it, his hips braced against an old root, pulling the basket in with him.
Exhale.
His limbs went limp, heavy as rags. At last—rest.
What had he done to deserve this? As a man reborn in another world, why was his first enemy a damned bird? Were all the animals here this clever? If so, how did humanity survive?
Dozens of questions.
Not a single answer.
Tu Heng sighed and slowly looked around.
Nothing. Dirt. Walls of dried sand.
Satisfied, he reached into his robe and pulled out the wrapped cloth.
He unwrapped it—and inhaled deeply as the scent escaped.
"Disgusting. Why do those creatures even like this?"
His stomach growled in protest.
"No—more important…" He shook his head. "What am I supposed to do with this? It's the last one…"
He fell silent.
A pit with stones? No—too tired to dig again. And the blue bird might find him.
A simple snare? No—the trap was too light. She'd track him again.
Blue bird. Blue bird. Why had she singled him out?
If not for her, he would—
Shhh.
"Hm?"
Something fell on his head?
He brushed at his hair. Sand.
He looked up—and light streamed down into his eyes.
A small hole, palm-sized.
And through it—
Her.
Blue fluff. A feathered backside pointed straight at his head.
"No—!"
He didn't wait.
Tu Heng sprang up as if his life depended on it, scrambling out of the hole with nothing in his hands, desperate to escape.
The moment his torso cleared the opening, pain exploded in his ears—as if his eardrums burst. Something blue flashed past his left eye.
Scratch.
"Aaaargh!!"
His thoughts dissolved into noise.
He tumbled into the mud, clutching his left eye. Something warm spilled over his hands.
His heart nearly stopped.
Am I blind?
The blue bird landed nearby, right in front of him.
She didn't touch him. Just watched.
She opened her beak, puffed her chest—then closed it again. Silent.
She bent down, picked up the fallen sapphirosa, and flew to the dead tree atop the mound.
Perched there, she stared down at where Tu Heng lay.
Cough.
"Why…?" he rasped, throat tightening. He wanted to scream—to tear his lungs out with it. "Why are you doing this to me?!"
His right eye burned red. Veins bulged in his forehead. His head throbbed.
He searched her gaze.
She didn't look at him.
She stepped back, tilted her head, then hopped—dropping a few feathers and nearly losing the sapphirosa. A red stain bloomed on the cloth tied around her neck.
Warm.
"Die, you animal!" Tu Heng roared.
Wild fire boiled inside him—chest, stomach, everywhere. It begged to escape. Another moment and he would have torn himself open just to release it.
He surged up, plunged his hands into the earth, tore free a clump, and hurled it at her.
Rustle.
"Chick?!"
She flinched, glancing at a shaking branch nearby. Then she lifted off, feathers trembling, and looked down again.
The left side of his face was smeared red—but she saw it clearly.
The eye was unharmed.
The blood came from above. From his forehead.
"Chick. Chick."
Her chirp lifted, casual.
He's fine.
With a sigh, the bird turned and vanished deeper into the forest.
"Stop!" Tu Heng screamed, chasing after her.
Nothing mattered—direction, danger. Only her.
But she was fast.
Small.
With every step, she slipped farther away.
Until she vanished completely.
Still, he ran.
If he stopped now, he knew—he'd never move again.
He chased every flicker of blue he imagined, until he burst into a thicket of long, winding plants.
Thin as ribbons. Covered in leaves.
The moment he stepped inside—
They closed around him.
"Aaaah!"
Like snakes in a pit, they coiled and dragged him down. The more he struggled, the tighter they bound him, the deeper he sank.
He was trapped.
He hung there until the fire in his chest burned out.
Until nothing remained.
And all he could do was think.
Was this it?
His sapphires were gone. Without them, catching birds would be nearly impossible.
And without that—what next?
Return to the village? After that speech about conquering the world?
Never.
This world was his second chance. He couldn't fail here. He wouldn't.
Tu Heng lowered his head. Salt filled his mouth again.
His eyes—what was wrong with them? Why was his vision blurring—
"Tu Heng?" a voice called. "How… did you end up here?"
Hope stabbed through him.
He turned, mouth opening wide, a smile breaking free.
"Jie Ming!"
"What happened to you?!" Jie Ming exclaimed, touching his head, scattering blue fluff. "Your eye—are you alright?"
"Yes—yes! Just get me out of here!"
"Alright. Alright." Jie Ming turned. "Yangji, help me."
A young man approached, carrying a bamboo basket stuffed with tools. He set it down, pulled out a piece of cloth, and handed it over.
Jie Ming tore it into strips, wrapped his hands, passed the rest to Yangji. They did the same and moved to the vines.
"Relax. Don't move," Jie Ming said, gently pulling at a vine like a tangled rope.
"This is a skin vine. It secretes adhesive sap—it sticks to bare skin and light things like feathers. How did you even get caught in it?"
Tu Heng tried to turn away.
The vine yanked him back.
"…Fine. Don't answer. Just endure it."
Chop.
His vision lurched. His ears rang.
Then—
Thud.
"Aah," Tu Heng groaned, landing in a heap of severed vines.
"Hm. Efficient," Jie Ming mused, nodding toward Yangji.
"I figured it'd be faster than picking at it for hours," Yangji said, grinning, axe slung over his shoulder.
Jie Ming smiled—then looked back at Tu Heng.
"I'll ask again," he said quietly. "How did you end up here?"
Tu Heng hesitated.
On Jie Ming's arm—a strip of cloth with a cross tied to it.
On Yangji's arm—the same.
"Heh… yeah. Just wandered off. Coincidence. I—I should go. Need to catch a bird. Still time…"
Why was he saying this?
He stepped back.
And—
"Wait."
Tu Heng froze.
"Here. Wipe yourself."
Jie Ming tossed him a cloth.
Tu Heng caught it instinctively.
Sweetness flooded his senses.
"You… how did you know?" he whispered.
Jie Ming shook his head, smiling.
"If you need help, don't stay silent. Just ask."
He turned and waved to Yangji.
They walked away.
Their backs growing smaller.
They were really leaving him.
"Wait!"
They stopped. Turned.
"I—I need help with something," Tu Heng said, clutching the flower. "Before you go. Will you help me?"
Jie Ming patted his hair.
"Alright."