That wasn't even the worst part; the celestial nesting weaver had not lied when it said it was just a baby. As it grew, those feathers would carry more years in them.
If, just as a young chick, it already had almost double the life expectancy of an early-stage Soul Formation expert, how unimaginable would the numbers be when it grew up a bit?
The only way Yang Qing could save the dignity of his bones was if he somehow stumbled onto immortality, or if his physique and his Dao underwent some miraculous transformation the higher he advanced. Or perhaps if he discovered that his clan was descended from some mythical race, and he managed to unlock it as a domain or Soul Formation expert.
