Immortal Paladin

The third day of the festival.

For me, barely my fourth day since arriving in this world.

Gu Jie walked beside me, clutching Ren Jingyi’s new home like it was a sacred artifact. I had managed to procure a new fishbowl—one the size of a human head, complete with a wire attachment that allowed for easy hand-carrying. If I adjusted the strap properly, I could even wear it like a bag.

I paid good money for this thing.

But right now, Gu Jie was the one carrying it, gripping the bottom as if she expected Ren Jingyi to spill out at any moment. Her knuckles were turning white.

She had taken it as a challenge. “Master, wait for me!”

Because of that, it took us a bit longer to walk from the entrance to the bleachers.

I sighed. “Just let me carry her—” I stopped myself. Gu Jie was too stubborn. If I insisted, she’d probably just double down. “You know what? Fine. From now on, she’s your responsibility.”

Gu Jie’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes, Master! I won’t fail you!”

I still had no idea what exactly Gu Jie wanted from me, but since she wasn’t being a nuisance, I let her be.

Follower or not, having a sidekick like her had been a big help.

We settled on the bleachers, waiting for today’s event to continue.

Today, the eight contenders would fight for a spot in the quarter-finals. The energy in the air was palpable, buzzing with excitement as people filled the seats, chattering about their favorite fighters. But while the rest of the audience was busy placing bets and making predictions, I had time to kill.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out a book.

Gu Jie had retrieved a sizable amount of them for me just this morning. According to her, I should expect even more the day after tomorrow. Honestly, I had no clue where she was getting these books from, and frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

The book I was reading was a mundane history book about Yellow Dragon City.

Apparently, this place used to be a dump.

I flipped through the pages, skimming through passages about its past. In fact, among all the continents under the Empire’s rule, Riverfall had been the poorest. That explained why people here treated the Yellow Dragon Festival like the grandest event of the year—entertainment was scarce, and this was probably one of the few things people had to look forward to.

There wasn’t much information about the other continents, though. The book seemed to have been written by a migrant from a place called Deepmoor Continent, another territory of the Empire.

This was only my second book, and so far, so good.

Gu Jie sat beside me, staring at Ren Jingyi as she secured the fishbowl on her lap. The little goldfish swam in circles, completely unaware of the tension building around us.

After a moment, Gu Jie turned to me with an apologetic expression. “Apologies, Master. I was unable to procure you the tickets for all four fights.”

I glanced at her and shrugged. “That’s understandable.”

Tickets for the eight competing cultivators had been sold separately. In total, there would be four bouts today, but Gu Jie had only managed to get us tickets for two of them. Considering how hyped this part of the festival was, that was already an achievement.

“So, who’s showing?” I asked, turning a page in my book while keeping half an ear on her response.

Gu Jie perked up, eager to provide an answer. “An Isolation Path disciple and a Young Master Feng Yi of the Wind Clan.”

I hummed in thought.

“Not much is known about the Isolation Path disciple,” she continued. “I think it will be a close match, or at least that’s what the odds say in the gambling houses.”

”Place your bets! Place your bets! Feed the ballot while you still can!”

A loud voice boomed through the arena as attendants moved through the bleachers, distributing small slips of paper. I caught one as it was handed my way, inspecting it. Betting, huh? That could be fun.

All around me, people scribbled names on their ballots, slipping in coins before folding them shut. The betting house had its own system—each folded ballot was marked with a touch of qi before being collected. I had no idea how that worked, but it must have made fraud difficult.

Below the arena, the two fighters had already taken their places.

”Welcome, honored guests, to the first bout of the quarterfinals!” The Enforcer acting as referee raised his arms, hyping up the crowd. ”On my left, we have Young Master Feng Yi of the Wind Clan! Famous for their unparalleled wind spells and swordsmanship!”

Feng Yi smirked and brandished his sword, his movements light and fluid. He made sure to put on a show, his blade gleaming as it cut through the air in a dazzling display. The crowd responded with cheers and murmurs of excitement.

”And on my right—Fan Shi of the Isolation Path Sect!” The Enforcer gestured to the other side of the arena. ”Famed for their self-mastery and varied, mysterious methods!”

Fan Shi, in contrast, stood still. She exuded an unsettling calm, her presence so muted it was almost eerie. Her robes, dark and unembellished, seemed to blend into the shadows cast by the arena. No flair, no theatrics—just silence.

I scrawled a name onto my ballot, slipped in a few gold pieces, and folded the paper shut before handing it to the nearest attendant.

With a practiced motion, they infused it with a touch of qi before moving on.

”Final call! The betting period is now closed!” Another attendant announced, marking the official start of the match.

The attendant took my folded paper slip, his fingers briefly glowing with a faint trace of qi as he infused it with my bet. I watched as he walked over to the two large wooden ballot boxes—one for each contender—and dropped my slip into the one labeled Feng Yi.

The way they facilitated gambling here was a bit more sophisticated than I’d expected. Unlike the crude bookie systems I was familiar with in my past life, there seemed to be a whole process to ensure fairness and security. It piqued my curiosity.

”Hey, Jie,” I said, turning to Gu Jie, who was still carefully holding Ren Jingyi’s fishbowl in her lap.

”Yes, Master?” she answered, her attention momentarily shifting away from the goldfish.

”This is my first time betting. But how do they confirm the winners of the bet?”

Gu Jie straightened up, taking the question seriously. ”The attendants will write the amount you betted on the slip of paper. Then, the qi they use to mark it carries detailed information about you—your eyes, hair, height, and even the color of your skin. It even records small details like freckles, scars, or moles. When you come to claim your prize, they’ll verify the information stored in the qi and match it to your appearance. As long as it matches, you get your winnings. Simple.”

Huh. So qi could store and transmit information in its purest form.

I’d heard of using qi for combat, healing, and even reinforcing the body, but this was something different. The implications of this fascinated me. If qi could be used as a kind of data carrier, did that mean there were methods to encode even more complex information?

I was almost tempted to experiment with my own mana to see if it had similar properties, but this was neither the right place nor the right time.

For now, I had a tournament to watch and a bet to (hopefully) win.

Fan Shi stood at one end of the arena, a vision of chilling beauty. She was the kind of jade beauty poets wrote about—skin as pale as fresh snowfall, features sharp and unreadable, her dark eyes carrying an abyssal stillness. Yet, despite her serene appearance, there was an unmistakable lethality in the way she carried herself. She did not simply stand—she coiled, like a viper lying in wait.

Chains slithered from the loose sleeves of her robes, dark and polished, winding like serpents that hungered for prey. Even from my seat, I could sense it—the promise of violence. A subtle, suffocating pressure in the air that prickled against my skin, whispering danger.

“Interesting…”

Across from her, Feng Yi crouched low, entering his fighting stance with practiced ease. His white and blue robes fluttered as the wind responded to his presence. He wielded his sword in a reverse grip, the edge gleaming under the daylight, his expression confident but not arrogant. The air around him stirred, forming invisible currents, as if preparing to unleash a storm at his command.

The moment stretched between them, silent yet electric.

Then, in a display of martial decorum, Fan Shi cupped her hand and performed a martial artist’s bow. A measured, deliberate motion, her expression unchanged.

Seeing this, Feng Yi followed suit, raising his free hand in respect before returning to his stance.

The Enforcer overseeing the match stepped forward, his voice ringing across the arena.

“Out of bounds means defeat! Surrender is an option! Drawing first blood, rendering your foe immobile for three seconds, and general incapacitation means victory!” His gaze swept over both contenders. “Contenders! Are you ready?!”

Fan Shi whipped her chains, and they coiled around her arms like a pair of armored gauntlets. The sound they made—clink, clink, clink—echoed ominously in the arena. Across from her, Feng Yi turned his sword in his grip, holding it properly now, no more flourishes. His stance lowered, his body taut like a drawn bow.

The Enforcer raised his hand.

“FIGHT!”

Ah, shit… I was probably going to lose my bet.

A memory resurfaced, hitting me like a delayed realization. I knew I recognized her. Fan Shi was the same Isolation Path disciple from the first day of the festivale, the one I had almost made eye contact with. Back then, I had the distinct feeling she had noticed something in me, but ultimately chose to let it go—probably assuming I was just another ordinary guy.

My gut told me she wasn’t someone I should have bet against.

The moment Feng Yi flickered into a gust of wind and beheaded Fan Shi, I knew she had already won.

Because my high Perception stat told me the truth—Feng Yi had hit nothing. Just an afterimage.

Fan Shi reappeared just behind him. Her chains slithered like living things, and before Feng Yi could react, both his feet were ensnared. He barely had a moment to register what had happened before—

BANG!

A brutal upward kick struck his gut, lifting him into the air like a ragdoll.

Fan Shi burst upwards, matching his ascent with effortless grace. In midair, she maneuvered herself behind Feng Yi, moving almost too fast for the ordinary eye to follow.

Something about this combo looked familiar.

Where had I seen this before?

Nah. Must have been my imagination.

Fan Shi twisted in the air, her chains wrapping around Feng Yi’s limbs, tightening like constricting snakes. Completely bound, the Wind Clan Young Master had no chance to counter.

Then, with a sharp spin—

She pile-drove him into the ground.

A tense silence followed.

Slowly, the dust settled, revealing the aftermath of the match.

Feng Yi lay embedded in the arena floor, body twisted at an awkward angle, either unconscious or dead. Fan Shi stood above him, untouched, expression unreadable. Her chains slithered back under her sleeves as if they had never moved in the first place.

The Enforcer wasted no time. “FAN SHI OF THE ISOLATION PATH SECT IS VICTORIOUS!”

Then, with equal urgency, he called for medics—or whatever the xianxia equivalent of them was. Several robed figures rushed onto the field, moving with the efficiency of people who had seen far worse injuries than this.

The moment Fan Shi stepped away, the medics swarmed Feng Yi, checking his condition. One of them placed their hand on his chest, likely using some kind of diagnostic qi technique, while another fished out a small jade bottle—probably some kind of recovery elixir.

The crowd went haywire.

Some cheered for the spectacle. Others roared in triumph, celebrating their winnings from the bet. And some—probably those who had bet on Feng Yi—groaned in bitter defeat. But even among the losing crowd, the sheer hype of the battle had swept them along, and I could hear excited murmurs about Fan Shi’s techniques, her eerie movements, and the sheer brutality of that final slam.

I exhaled.

“Welp,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “There goes my money.”