Chapter 1

Blessed Continent, Hundred Feathers Tribe.

It was the breeding season once again. Within the tribe, the newly hatched chicks had yet to open their eyes, instinctively opening their mouths and chirping, waiting for their parents to feed them.

On a sturdy tree crown by the cliff’s edge hung four nests—three large ones lined up in a row, and a smaller one on another trunk. Each nest was cleverly positioned, highly concealed, yet interconnected.

At that moment, inside the nest farthest from the trunk, a plump, fluffy feathered chick was rubbing its furry head against a nearby chick.

“Chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp!” Stop sleeping, let’s go out and play!

The chick being rubbed was pure white and very petite, not even a fifth the size of the bigger one. It was nestled in the center of the cozy nest, half sunk into the soft, clean feathers at the bottom. Groggily awakened by the noise, it barely lifted its eyelids, ignored the troublemaker beside it, and closed its eyes to continue resting.

Getting no response, the plump chick persisted, lifting its wing to nudge the almost-sleeping white chick. “Chirp chirp, chirp chirp!” Wake up, don’t sleep!

Roused again, the white chick slowly opened its eyes, glanced at the lively plump chick, then sluggishly shifted away, creating some distance with a clear look of disdain.

Unaware of the rejection, the plump chick clung on, chirping incessantly: “Chirp, chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp—bro, brotheeer, brotheeer bro—”

Drowned out by the relentless chirping, the white chick spread its wings to cover its ears. Yet the wings were too short and clumsy to be as effective as hands, and the noisy calls still seeped through the feathers.

Since their first feeding competition after hatching, feathered chicks had been practicing their vocal cords, chirping almost daily before the age of one—their cacophony piercing and relentless.

Headache mounting, Bai Shuo finally lost patience. Unable to endure it any longer, he raised his foot and kicked his annoying little brother. As expected, the kick didn’t move him—after all, the plump chick was several times his size.

Yes, this chubby bird, several times larger, was his younger brother, five years his junior.

Bai Shuo’s entire family, along with most members of their tribe, were of the Feathered Race.

The Feathered Race was one of the three evolved species on the Blessed Continent, alongside the Beast Clan and the Merfolk. All evolved species could shift forms; the Feathered Race could switch between human and feathered forms. They reproduced by laying eggs, which required incubation.

A Feathered Race egg took a year to hatch. Newly hatched chicks were covered only in downy feathers. Before age three, chicks were fragile and rarely left the nest. Around age three, they would transform into human form, but their shape was unstable in the early years, often reverting to feathered form before gradually stabilizing.

Between ages three and sixteen, the feathered form’s size remained consistent, capable of flight but unable to fly far. The human form changed more noticeably, growing from chick to adolescent. During this stage, most preferred living in human form.

The period between sixteen and eighteen was crucial: both forms matured from adolescent to adult, and combat abilities surged dramatically. After eighteen, aside from aging, the two forms changed little.

This was the typical life cycle of the Feathered Race.

Bai Shuo, however, was the only abnormal one in his entire family and tribe.

At hatching, aside from being slightly smaller, he looked much like his brother in the same clutch. Size differences among siblings were normal, due to varying egg nutrients and incubation conditions, and usually evened out with growth. His parents paid little attention to the slight disparity.

But months later, Bai Su, his brother, had grown to twice his hatching size, while Bai Shuo had not grown at all.

His first-time parents thought perhaps Bai Shuo was underfed, so whenever possible, they stuffed food into his mouth. If Bai Shuo hadn’t stubbornly refused to open it after full, he might have been the first chick in the tribe to die from overeating. Since he refused to eat, they gave up.

A year passed. Bai Su was now five times his hatching size; Bai Shuo remained tiny.

Three years later, Bai Su stumbled out of the nest, transformed into a three-year-old child. Bai Shuo was still a small, fluffy ball, neither growing nor shifting into human form.

Four years passed. The same clutch of chicks had all fled to the mountain foot, except Bai Shuo, who still hadn’t transformed. His parents had no choice but to accept reality: Bai Shuo was a chick who couldn’t shift form. That year, their family laid four more eggs, but the heavy rainy season flooded their cave. Only one egg successfully hatched—the chick beside him named Bai Le.

A few days ago, Bai Le learned to shift into human form. Bai Shuo, five years older, was still a tiny fluff, unable even to kick his brother.

Fed up with repeated interruptions, Bai Shuo gave up on sleep, looking up at the leaves above the nest, pondering life and his existence as a bird.

Since he became aware, Bai Shuo had found this world strange—until a few days ago, when he suddenly dreamed of his past life.

In his previous life, he was fully human, living in a technologically advanced place, completely different from this primitive world. Remembering those memories explained all the odd feelings he’d had. Anyone transported from a high-tech society to a primitive one would feel subconscious discomfort.

Bai Shuo was somewhat grateful that he hadn’t immediately recalled his past life upon hatching, but only after adapting for several years. Otherwise, it would have been hard to accept—the saying “easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard the other way” applied perfectly. The life gap between two lifetimes was immense.

Now, after living here for years, Bai Shuo accepted things easily and felt a deep sense of belonging. In his last life, he was an orphan and mostly alone; here, he had loving parents, a thoughtful older brother, and a lively younger brother.

Perhaps because he had been alone so long before, Bai Shuo dreaded loneliness deeply. In the first few years after hatching, he clung closely to Bai Su. After Bai Su shifted to human form at three, he still spent much of his time with him. When Bai Su reached working age, Bai Le hatched. The loneliness Bai Shuo once knew never returned, and he truly loved this place.

Of course, it would be better if his younger brother weren’t so lively.

As Bai Shuo contemplated, Bai Le began butting him with his head again, whining: “Chirp chirp, chirp chirp chirp.” Brother, let’s go out and play.

The tone was coaxing, the movements mischievous.

Bai Le wanted Bai Shuo to go down the mountain to play, but Bai Shuo was reluctant.

Because Bai Shuo hadn’t shifted into human form, whenever he went out, the family had to escort him. Although they were family, each gave Bai Shuo very different feelings.

Father Bai Xun was one of the strongest warriors in the tribe—rough, coarse, and careless. Bai Shuo once suspected he might be crushed accidentally by his father’s clumsy hands. Yet Bai Xun loved taking him down the mountain. The benefit was that many chicks feared Bai Xun, so Bai Shuo wasn’t bothered near him—a painful joy.

Mother Bai Yun was much gentler. Held by her, Bai Shuo never feared injury. But because she was so gentle, when Bai Shuo went down with her, he was often ogled and petted by others. Ignoring the head-patting, it was quite a happy experience.

Older brother Bai Su was careful but overly cautious. When Bai Su took him out, Bai Shuo was mostly wrapped in animal skins, severely limiting his vision.

If going out with father, mother, or brother was mixed blessing, going out with Bai Le was a pure adventure.

First, newly human-shifted chicks often still thought they were birds and lacked control over their strength. Second, chicks formed small groups by age and personality. Bai Le’s group consisted of chicks who just learned to shift to human form.

Lively, restless, and reckless, this age group was a disaster for Bai Shuo. The more chicks, the worse the disaster. A few days ago, taken out by Bai Le, Bai Shuo was tossed around by a group of chicks, experiencing a rollercoaster ride that nearly made him vomit bile. One such ordeal was enough—he never wanted to repeat it.

But Bai Le, newly human, didn’t understand Bai Shuo’s thoughts. He was strong and stubborn, refusing to give up.

Bai Shuo looked at his muscular younger brother and slowly raised his foot.

If I can’t kick him, I’ll just try!

Yet Bai Shuo’s movement made Bai Le mistakenly believe he finally agreed. Excited, Bai Le jumped up, forgetting his brother was right above him.

Suddenly, the scene shifted to the nest’s edge. Bai Shuo sensed danger and tried to warn Bai Le to crouch, but it was too late.

The nest was actually quite high. Recently stronger from growth and excitement, Bai Le inadvertently butted Bai Shuo right off the nest.

Everything happened in an instant. Worse, Bai Shuo failed to grab a nearby branch and was blown off course by the wind; instead of falling to the tree base, he was headed toward the cliff below.

Bai Shuo: “...Seriously? Could it be any more coincidental?”

Watching the swiftly changing scenery on both sides, Bai Shuo had only one thought: Feathered chicks really are the most dangerous creatures in the world!

Instinct drove him to flap his wings. But like other chicks, his wings were underdeveloped—let alone flying, even stabilizing his body was hard. Against the wind’s resistance, his snowy wings barely lifted, with negligible effect.

Seeing the scenery speed up, Bai Shuo gave up struggling, allowing himself to slide in the wind. Now, he could only hope something would cushion his fall. He regretted choosing the quiet nest by the cliff.

After falling countless meters, Bai Shuo suddenly stopped, landing on something warm and soft.

Then, he and the soft object beneath him shifted downward together before stopping.

The surrounding scenery ceased moving. Bai Shuo exhaled in relief—so lucky to fall from such a height without injury. Heaven truly favored him; he hadn’t hit any rocks.

But this relief lasted only a moment.

The next second, Bai Shuo locked eyes with a sharp, dangerous gaze—clearly a raptor’s.

His breath caught halfway.

That warm softness? He had landed on another Feathered Race member’s back!

Moreover, this unfamiliar bird had flown a distance with him on its back!

Though both Feathered, Bai Shuo was still extremely nervous. Feathered folk were kind to their own, but ruthless toward prey and strangers, even fiercer than the predatory bird fights Bai Shuo had seen in his past life’s videos.

The unknown bird before him was likely a new tribe member. Its gaze was fierce, like a predator eyeing prey, with hooked, sharp beak ready to strike.

Bai Shuo estimated his size was just right for one bite.

Good news: he hadn’t died from the fall.

Bad news: his rescuer was a stranger.

Worse news: animals unable to shift form were on the Feathered Race’s menu. They preferred cooked food but tolerated raw meat.

The thought of being devoured sent shivers down Bai Shuo’s spine.

Then, he noticed the bird’s gaze sharpened further.

Being stared down like this, Bai Shuo hesitantly tried to greet: “Chirp?”

The moment the sound escaped, he realized he was doomed.

His knowledge of bird language was woefully insufficient. He wanted to explain who he was, but only meaningless chirps came out. The Feathered Race’s language system was too complex; even after years as a bird, he hadn’t mastered it. Recalling his past life hadn’t helped him unlock this skill.

Bai Shuo closed his eyes in despair. Whatever happens, fate is fate. He hoped his parents and brothers would find him before he was eaten.

At that moment, Bai Shuo wished he could shift to human form. An eight-year-old child was too big to swallow in one bite. More importantly, humans could speak. Though he didn’t know bird speech, he knew human language! If in human form, he could explain the situation instead of being helpless, with fate entirely in the other’s hands.

In his nervousness, Bai Shuo forgot one thing: just because he didn’t recognize other Feathered Race members beyond his family didn’t mean the tribe didn’t know him.

Every Feathered member of the Hundred Feathers Tribe knew that the Bai Xun and Bai Yun family had a tiny chick who hadn’t shifted form for eight years.

Newly joined chicks were told on their first day: Bai Su’s unshifted little brother was super cute.