Immortal Paladin

The gathering of cultivators quickly lost its charm. Sure, watching them descend from the sky on flying swords, chariots, leaves, and even clouds had been impressive at first, but the novelty wore off fast. Their arrivals were met with awe and hushed whispers, but at the end of the day, they were just more posturing elites.

I had no reason to care.

So, I left.

As I strolled through the lively streets, a thought struck me—money. I had yet to figure out this world’s economy, but I had no intention of staying broke. Gu Jie was supposed to handle gathering funds, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some myself. Besides, I needed something to entertain myself.

An idea formed. Something simple.

I pulled a wooden crate and a bowl from my Item Box, setting them down in a relatively open spot where foot traffic was heavy. Then, I hopped onto the crate, cleared my throat, and began attracting attention to my bowl.

“Ladies and gentlemen! May I gather your attention, please?!”

I was going to moonlight as a bard.

Music had always been a universal language. That was true in my old world, and I suspected it was the same here.

Back in Lost Legends Online, players could take on both a main class and a sub-class. Sub-classes weren’t combat-focused but instead related to trade and knowledge. Being a lore enthusiast, I had picked Linguist, also known as Historian back in the game.

It was marketed as a class that let you comprehend every language in the game’s vast lore, allowing for deep interaction with ancient texts and secret dialogues. It also came with a speech bonus, making players eloquent speakers, though it was still inferior to the Diplomat class when it came to persuasion. On top of that, Linguists could solve puzzles more easily, though again, they weren’t as proficient as Scholars.

It wasn’t the best sub-class, but it suited my interests.

More importantly, it had a Translation skill—one that allowed me to seamlessly convert words from one language to another.

That meant I could take songs from Earth and transpose them into this world’s language without pause.

I wasn’t a Bard, but thanks to my past life’s experience with karaoke, I could at least hold a tune. And with the Linguist’s speech bonus? I’d make it sound good.

I took a deep breath, let the murmurs of the curious crowd settle, and then—

I sang.

The melody carried through the air, the words smooth and poetic, transposed effortlessly into this world’s tongue. It was a song from my old world—something from Freddie Mercury, because if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

At first, my voice cut through the air like an unexpected breeze—soft but clear, drawing a few passing gazes. Then, as I carried the melody with confidence, my voice soared.

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

The words flowed smoothly, transposed effortlessly into this world’s language by my Linguist sub-class. The syllables fit as if the song had been born here, as if it were meant to be sung in this world’s tongue.

People stopped.

First, a few. Then, more. Murmurs spread through the crowd as heads turned, eyes widening. A noblewoman paused mid-step, her silk robes swaying as she tilted her head in curiosity. A group of merchants near a tea stall leaned in to listen. A child, barely older than ten, tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing at me with bright-eyed wonder.

I kept singing, my voice steady, my pacing smooth.

“Because I’m easy come, easy go, little high, little low…”

The melody carried through the marketplace, its emotion resonating beyond the meaning of words. A man in a tattered robe—probably a wandering warrior—nodded along, his arms crossed, lips twitching in approval. A young woman, dressed in the flowing garb of a minor sect, swayed slightly to the tune, her expression soft.

Then, the cheers began.

At first, it was just a few claps, hesitant and unsure. But as I powered through the chorus, as my voice climbed with the intensity of the song, the energy shifted. The crowd, caught up in the performance, responded with excitement. Some clapped along with the beat. Others grinned, their faces lit with delight.

And then, the real proof of their appreciation—

Clink.

A coin landed in my bowl. Then another. And another.

I stole a glance mid-song and nearly smirked. My little wooden bowl, which had started out empty, was beginning to fill with silver and copper coins. A generous noble tossed in a gold coin, his lips quirking in amusement. A grizzled mercenary followed suit, flipping a coin with practiced ease.

“Now this is entertainment,” someone murmured.

“Who is he?” another asked.

“Some kind of wandering bard?”

“I’ve never heard this song before…”

“It’s incredible.”

As I reached the climax of the song, I gave it everything I had. My Linguist speech bonus made sure my enunciation was crisp, my emotions evident in every note. And though I wasn’t a professional singer, my past-life karaoke experience ensured that I hit the notes just right.

I finished with a strong, lingering note. The final words echoed in the air, hanging for a moment before fading.

Silence.

Then, the crowd erupted.

Cheers, applause, and even a few whistles. People beamed at me, their eyes alight with excitement. Some nodded in approval, others chattered animatedly about the performance. My wooden bowl was now respectably full, proof that I had earned my keep through sheer performance alone.

I exhaled, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Then, with a slight bow, I raised a hand for silence. The lingering murmurs quieted as the crowd leaned in, waiting to hear what I had to say.

“Thank you for listening,” I said smoothly, my voice carrying over the gathered people. “But credit where credit is due—this song is not my own.”

Murmurs of intrigue spread.

“This piece was composed by a legendary bard from a distant land—his name was Freddie Mercury.” I let the name hang in the air for dramatic effect. “Though he is no longer among us, his music lives on, transcending time and space.”

Some nodded, as if honoring the name of a fellow artist. Others simply clapped again, appreciating the sentiment.

I chuckled to myself. If only they knew just how distant a land I meant.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind their generous donations, an idea struck me.

Music was one way to captivate an audience, but it wasn’t the only way. Next time, I wouldn’t just sing—I’d tell a story.

Songs and tales both had power. And with my Linguist class, I could weave them seamlessly into this world’s language.

I stepped down from the crate, pocketing my hard-earned coin.

“That was fun,” I murmured to myself, a satisfied grin tugging at my lips.

I crouched down, scooped up the wooden bowl filled with coins, and gave it a little shake. The satisfying clink-clink of silver and copper meeting each other was music to my ears. Not a bad haul for an impromptu street performance.

With a flick of my wrist, I stashed the bowl, crate, and earnings into my Item Box. It was nice having an inventory system that let me carry things without worrying about weight. A relic from my time in Lost Legends Online that was proving to be far more useful in real life than I’d ever expected.

Now, I had money. And money meant I could finally eat properly.

The marketplace was still buzzing with energy. Stalls lined the streets, their colorful banners fluttering in the wind. The scent of roasted meats, spiced broths, and freshly baked buns filled the air, making my stomach growl in protest.

I took my time walking past vendors, watching as they skillfully worked their craft. A dumpling stand had a steady stream of customers, the cook working deftly as he flipped steaming buns onto a tray. A noodle shop had a line stretching out the door, bowls of fragrant broth being passed to eager customers.

Eventually, I found a more traditional eatery—a simple wooden establishment with an open-air dining area. The smell of sizzling meat and frying garlic drifted from within, a clear sign that I had made the right choice.

Stepping inside, I found a seat by the window and waved over a server.

The moment my order was placed, I sat back and took in the atmosphere. The eatery had a rustic charm—worn wooden tables, the chatter of travelers exchanging stories, the rhythmic clack of chopsticks against bowls.

Soon, my food arrived.

A steaming bowl of braised pork noodles, thick strands coated in a rich, savory broth. A side of pan-fried dumplings, their golden-brown exteriors crisp and glistening with oil. And to wash it all down, a cup of warm rice wine, its faint aroma carrying a subtle sweetness.

I wasted no time.

The first bite of noodles was divine. The broth—deep and flavorful—coated my tongue with its complex blend of soy, spices, and slow-cooked meat. The pork practically melted in my mouth, its tenderness a testament to hours of careful preparation.

The dumplings were just as satisfying. The moment I bit into one, hot juices burst forth, the combination of crispy exterior and savory filling sending a wave of satisfaction through me.

I took a sip of the rice wine, letting its warmth spread through my chest.

A satisfied sigh escaped my lips.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. “This is good.”

It had been too long since I last enjoyed a meal like this.

Back in my past life, food was often an afterthought—a necessity rather than an experience. In LLO, meals were nothing more than buffs, consumed for stat boosts rather than enjoyment. But here? Here, food mattered.

And right now, I was more than happy to indulge.

Just as I was about to savor another bite of my perfectly braised pork noodles, a familiar voice rang out from across the table.

“I finally found you!”

I looked up, chopsticks frozen mid-air, just in time to see Gu Jie plopping herself onto the seat opposite me. She pulled off her balaclava, revealing her sharp features and a grin that practically radiated pride.

“I finished the task, Senior!” she announced, dragging two pouches onto the table. They landed with a clink, heavy with coins.

I sighed. Of course.

It wasn’t even dusk yet…

Couldn’t I enjoy one meal in peace?

I set my chopsticks down, leveling a flat look at her. “You know, there’s a time and place for business, and this,” I gestured at my half-eaten meal, “is neither.”

Gu Jie’s grin faltered. “Ah—right. My apologies, Senior! I didn’t mean to disturb your meal.”

She actually looked guilty.

Well, at least she had some self-awareness.

I sighed, leaning back. “Whatever. What’d you get?”

She perked up instantly, pushing the pouches toward me. “As you instructed, I have succeeded on the task you’ve given me. I managed to exchange the treasure you’ve entrusted to me with the local currency.” She puffed her chest out. “The people in the lower districts are surprisingly loose-lipped when given a few drinks. I’ve already picked up rumors about some underground dealings—”

Her rambling was getting on my nerves.

I held up a hand. “That’s great and all, but can you at least let me eat first?”

“Oh! Right! Of course, Senior!”

She looked genuinely embarrassed this time, folding her hands in her lap like a scolded child.

I exhaled through my nose and waved over a server.

“What does my friend here want?” I asked, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s eat first, and then we talk.”

Gu Jie immediately stiffened, shaking her head. “No need! I don’t want to impose—”

“Not an option,” I cut in smoothly. “Either you eat with me, or I leave you to your devices.”

She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.

I could tell that despite all her posturing, she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of generosity. It made sense—she was a starving street thief just this morning. But if she really wanted to follow me, she’d have to get used to things like this.

After a moment of visible internal struggle, she gave in. “...I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she mumbled.

The server nodded and hurried off.

“Seriously, it’s not been a day, since you tried to rob me,” I leaned back in my chair, watching Gu Jie as she awkwardly sat there, hands still clenched together. “You wanted to become my follower so badly that you went out of your way to do this, huh?” I mused, tapping the table.

Gu Jie looked down, fiddling with her sleeves. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d do anything for you, Senior. If you’ll have me, I’ll prove my worth.”

I didn’t respond right away.

Instead, I picked up my chopsticks and resumed eating, giving her time to sit with her own thoughts.

When her food arrived, she hesitated again, staring at the steaming bowl as if it were some kind of rare treasure. Eventually, she picked up her chopsticks and took a careful bite.

Her eyes widened slightly.

Yeah. Good food had that effect.

I smirked. She’d get used to this soon enough.