In which Li Ming attempts damage control. The universe calls it "comedy."

---

Morning sunlight gleamed off the brand-new stone monument like a divine joke carved in granite.

Li Ming stood before it, arms crossed, watching a group of disciples take turns bowing to it.

The inscription still burned in his mind:

"Here, our wise and dignified Master enlightened the Golden Feathered Sage, patron of thunder and breakfast alike."

Bai Guo perched on top of the monument, puffed up like a smug historian.

"You have to admit," he said, "that's poetry."

Li Ming's expression didn't shift. "It's libel."

"Libel can't be divine scripture," Bai Guo countered. "You're a legend now. People already think you can bless eggs with Qi."

Li Ming blinked slowly. "…They what?"

As if summoned by despair itself, a junior disciple ran up, cradling a basket.

"Master! We brought the Sacred Nest Offering!"

Inside: six glowing eggs.

They were humming.

Bai Guo fell off the monument from laughing too hard.

---

"Alright, everyone listen," Li Ming said, forcing calm into his tone. "The chicken is gone. Ascended. Enlightened. No more poultry rituals. We move on."

Dozens of disciples bowed in perfect synchrony.

"Yes, Master! We shall continue the Path of Feathered Wisdom!"

"That's not what I—"

Before he could finish, they began meditating in bird poses.

Wings of spiritual energy spread from their arms.

Bai Guo wiped tears from his eyes. "Descendant, you've founded a sect within a sect. The Church of Cluck."

Li Ming took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw his sword into the monument.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let them exhaust themselves. This will die out in a week."

Spoiler: it did not.

---

By evening, the new "Thunderfeather Cultivation Method" had already spread to three branches of the sect.

Apparently, flapping your arms while channeling Qi "cleared the meridians."

It did not.

It just looked stupid.

Li Wen rushed into Li Ming's courtyard, beaming with admiration.

"Master! Your teachings spread faster than lightning itself! Disciples report breakthroughs during the Feather Stance!"

Li Ming stared at him. "…They're doing cardio."

"Truly profound! Body and spirit as one!"

Bai Guo leaned toward Li Ming, whispering, "Just let it happen. History's already doomed."

Li Ming sighed. "I am not letting future generations think enlightenment involves interpretive bird dance."

---

That night, he crept back to the monument with one goal: destroy it.

He gathered Qi into his hand—

but before he could strike, golden lightning flickered across the surface.

The monument glowed.

Lines of text rearranged themselves.

'Even his destruction of the monument was a test of faith.'

Li Ming's jaw dropped. "It's self-editing?!"

Bai Guo was on his back, shrieking with laughter.

"Oh, this is perfect! The heavens themselves are preserving your shame!"

Li Ming stared up at the night sky, dead inside. "I hate causality."

---

He trudged back to his hut and collapsed onto his bed.

Bai Guo fluttered down beside him, still chuckling.

"You know, descendant," he said, "for a man trying to keep history clean, you sure make it messier every day."

Li Ming groaned into his pillow. "If I ever get home, I'm burning every monument with my name on it."

Bai Guo grinned. "Oh, you will. In about a thousand years."

---

Where Li Ming tries to fix history. It fixes him instead.

---

By the next morning, Li Ming had a plan.

A simple one.

If he couldn't destroy the monument, he'd rewrite the record.

"Descendant," Bai Guo said skeptically as he watched Li Ming unroll a blank scroll, "you're about to falsify history using calligraphy you barely passed at age ten."

Li Ming didn't look up. "Correction: I was top of my class in forging signatures."

"That's worse."

"Progress is progress."

He dipped his brush in ink, exhaled deeply, and began writing:

'Note: The Golden Chicken event was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Please disregard.'

He smiled faintly. Elegant, factual, harmless.

Then the ink shimmered.

And the words changed.

'Lo, the Wise Master spake: The Heavenly Feather was misunderstood by mortals, for its true form transcended all reason.'

Li Ming blinked. "Why does everything I write become scripture!?"

Bai Guo rolled on the table, wheezing. "The heavens have a sense of humor! And apparently, it's literate!"

---

Still determined, Li Ming pulled out a new scroll.

"Fine. If the heavens want scripture, I'll bury them in paperwork."

By nightfall, his room looked like a bureaucratic nightmare — piles of scrolls labeled:

'Official Denial No. 3: I am not the Chicken Sage.'

'Clarification: Feather Stance was a warm-up exercise, not enlightenment.'

'Stop calling me Eggfather.'

Each one glowed faintly.

Each one reworded itself into something worse.

Bai Guo read aloud from one, tears in his eyes:

'And the Eggfather, in his humility, denied divinity, proving it further.'

Li Ming's soul left his body for a full three seconds.

---

At dawn, a disciple burst into his room.

"Master! The Sacred Texts you wrote last night appeared in the Sect Library!"

Li Ming froze. "What."

"They're glowing! The elders said they emerged from a bolt of lightning! They've already begun chanting the First Egg Sutra!"

Li Ming closed his eyes slowly. "I need to invent time travel faster."

Bai Guo was crying with laughter now. "You're literally fulfilling your own myth, descendant. You write the fake scriptures, they find them in the future, you come back to stop it— it's the perfect loop!"

Li Ming stared at the ceiling, defeated. "I am being bullied by continuity."

---

Later, Li Wen proudly presented him with a bound tome.

"Master, we've compiled your sacred writings! The disciples meditate upon them daily!"

The title gleamed in gold:

"The Dao of the Thunder Egg: Collected Wisdom of Master Li Ming."

Bai Guo nearly fell off the chair again.

"Dao of the Thunder Egg! Oh, this is history's greatest crime!"

Li Ming set the book down, expression unreadable.

Then he said quietly, "When I return to my own time, I'm hunting every single historian."

---

That night, Li Ming sat outside, staring at the moon.

The breeze was calm, for once.

Even Bai Guo was quiet.

"Descendant," Bai Guo said softly, "maybe this is fate's way of saying your legacy will never be forgotten."

Li Ming gave a long, tired sigh.

"I was hoping for something nobler. Not… breakfast-themed immortality."

Bai Guo smirked. "You don't get to choose your myth. The myth chooses you."

Li Ming looked at the horizon.

Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed.

He whispered, "I hate time travel."

To be continued...

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