Immortal Paladin

Lu Gao stood tall, a picture of wealth and power. His long dark hair was tied in a neat ponytail, his robes were pristine, embroidered with golden dragons slithering across deep blue silk. His posture was straight, exuding the self-assurance of someone who had never been denied anything in his life. His frame was lean, but the compact muscles beneath his robes spoke of rigorous training. He was strong—stronger than I had expected.

I released Long Xieren’s wrist and approached Lu Gao. If I was going to get any answers, now was the time. I activated my Divine Sense, my very own lie detector.

“Did you plan to kill disciples Huo Jun and Fan Shi?”

“No.”

It was a lie.

“What’s your cultivation realm?”

“Second Realm, Eight Star.”

It was the truth.

Long Xieren scoffed. “That’s a lie!”

“He’s saying the truth.”

My Divine Sense could only detect the fundamental truth. It wasn’t just about catching lies—it was about sensing the sincerity behind a person’s words. Lu Gao truly believed he was in the Second Realm, Eight Star. If his belief had been false, I would have sensed the inconsistency. But no, he was utterly convinced.

Still, there was something wrong here.

“Chief Enforcer Liang Na, objectively tell me with Qi Sense what his cultivation level is.”

Liang Na’s gaze swept over Lu Gao, her Qi Sense probing him. “Second Realm, Eight Star.”

Long Xieren gritted his teeth. “But his attack is undeniably at the Third Realm.”

That was the problem. I turned to Liang Na, searching for any sign that she had sensed the same discrepancy.

“I am uncertain if the attack had been at the Third Realm,” she answered. “However, I am certain the person himself as only at the Second Realm.”

There was no way she hadn’t noticed if it was the case of hiding your Realm. 

“What made you think, Daoist, that it was Third Realm?” I asked Long Xieren.

Long Xieren looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because I felt it in my hand. And I’ve known the sword all my life. I’d have to be a fool not to recognize a Third Realm sword strike!”

Lei Fen crossed his arms, his voice cold. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, Da Wei. You may be a friend of our Sect Master, but it’s a grave offense to intervene in our matters so blatantly like this.”

I met his gaze, my mind racing.

Lu Gao’s cultivation might have been Second Realm, but his attack had carried the force of a Third Realm strike. There was a trick here—something beyond just brute power. And if I had learned anything about cultivators, it was that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

”This prattle is meaningless,” Lu Gao declared, his voice unwavering. ”It is my victory. I demand my prize.”

Ren Jin descended from above, his robes fluttering as he landed with practiced ease. ”A hundred thousand spirit stones, is it?” The governor’s tone was calm, but there was an underlying weight to his words. ”We’ll get it ready.” He gestured for Chief Enforcer Liang Na, who gave a subtle nod in response.

Lu Gao, however, shook his head. ”No need for that. I only wish to seek participation in the closed-off auction that Governor Ren Jin shall host on the seventh day of the festival. The Lu Clan wishes to play fair with the Elders of the prestigious Sects.”

Long Xieren let out a dry chuckle, crossing his arms. ”This arrogant brat sure knows how to talk when it suits him.” His expression turned sharp as he turned to Ren Jin. ”I demand compensation for the injuries my disciple, Huo Jun, suffered. The Governor shall act as witness and mediator for this grudge.”

Lei Fen followed suit, his eyes calculating. ”Same goes for my Sect. A compensation is required.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. These sly old foxes really were exhausting. Their outrage wasn’t about justice. No, they were simply looking for an advantage. Attempted murder? A minor offense if compensated properly. Money, rare resources, maybe a few favors—these things could smooth over just about anything.

Their reaction was interesting, though. The moment Lu Gao requested entry into the auction, their attitudes shifted. Perhaps they assumed he lacked the wealth to compete with them. A fatal miscalculation, if true. Lu Gao wasn’t just some overconfident noble’s son—he was someone who planned his steps far ahead.

It was a stark contrast to how they had treated me when we first met. Back then, I was an unknown factor, a rogue element in their carefully balanced power plays. They had questioned my motives, my strength, my background. But with Lu Gao? It was different. He was a known variable. Predictable. And that made him easier to manipulate—or so they thought.

“Not yet,” I said.

The words hung in the air, sharp and unexpected.

They froze. Not just Lu Gao, but Ren Jin, Long Xieren, Lei Fen—everyone.

Of course, they would find it bizarre. It wasn’t like I had a stake in this. By all means, Lu Gao had won. He had played within the rules—bent them, maybe, but not broken them. I had no reason to interfere.

And yet…

There were signs.

”The smell of sulfur is too thick in here.”

Not obvious ones, not anything blatant that I could point at and say, this was why I hesitated. But something was off. Subtle shifts in the flow of energy, inconsistencies in how Lu Gao carried himself, and the way his attacks landed with force beyond what his cultivation realm should allow.

It wasn’t reacting to my Divine Sense, but I had a hunch.

And I wasn’t about to ignore it.

I exhaled and reached inward, calling upon one of my spell slots. The only dispel-like ability I had.

Judgment Severance.

A golden cross-shaped rupture split the air between me and Lu Gao.

For an instant, the world shuddered. The ultimate skill didn’t just dispel spells or techniques—it erased them. Any supernatural power within a twelve to twenty-one-meter radius was devoured, cut away as if it had never existed.

I felt it. My own skills became inaccessible. But my Item Box still worked.

Lu Gao staggered. His qi was stripped from him in an instant, unraveling like a pulled thread. His eyes widened in shock, his entire presence diminished—like a flame suddenly snuffed out.

And that confirmed it.

My Divine Sense recognized Lu Gao as an Enemy.

I reached into my Item Box. Silver Steel materialized in my grasp.

Lu Gao tried to fight back.

I stepped forward.

And beheaded him.

The golden rupture winked out of existence.

Silence.

The arena was painfully, horrifically silent.

For a moment, the entire arena stood still. Then—

BOOOOOO!

The crowd erupted.

Shouts, curses, and sheer outrage crashed over me like a tidal wave. People were on their feet, fists shaking, voices rising in furious disbelief.

“What the hell was that?!”

“He killed Lu Gao!”

“What kind of coward attacks after the match is over?!”

“Executioner! Murderer!”

They weren’t wrong to react that way. From their perspective, it must have looked absurd—I had interfered after the fight was over, after Lu Gao had already claimed victory. Then, with no warning, I had cut him down.

They didn’t know what I had seen. They didn’t know what I had felt.

But that didn’t stop them from condemning me.

Long Xieren was the first to act. He moved like a storm, drawing his sword in one smooth motion, the tip gleaming cold under the sunlight. His eyes burned with anger.

“Da Wei.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Explain yourself.”

Lei Fen stood beside him, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the hostility in his posture. “You’ve committed a grave offense.”

Ren Jin hadn’t moved from his floating position above, but his eyes had narrowed slightly. Watching. Calculating.

The Elders, the enforcers, the prominent figures in the crowd—everyone had their own reactions. Some were too shocked to speak. Others whispered among themselves, debating whether to intervene.

And at the center of it all, Lu Gao’s body lay still, his head rolling a few feet away. Blood seeped into the cracks of the arena floor.

I met Long Xieren’s gaze, my grip tightening on Silver Steel.

“I had my reasons.”

Back in Lost Legends Online, factions existed. There were a lot of them. They had motives, desires, ambitions—some grand, some petty. Players could align themselves with various groups, each with their own ideology and power struggles.

But at its core, the game was divided into two main factions: Light and Dark. Rivals, sure. Enemies, definitely. But there was always a bigger threat.

The Final Adversary.

The Gods.

They were the Great Enemy, the ones who existed outside of LLO’s mortal realm, beyond the reach of player influence—except when they chose to intervene. They ruled over the Layered Worlds, planes of existence stacked over and beneath the mortal world. Players had different names for them—Heaven, Hell, the Underworld, the Elemental Dimensions, Paradise. Some called them Realms, others called them Domains. Whatever the case, these places were ruled by powerful entities who saw the mortal world as nothing more than a hunting ground, a playground, or a battlefield.

Not all lifeforms in the Layered Worlds were hostile, but a lot of them were.

For example, demons.

Lu Gao’s beheaded corpse convulsed.

The reaction was immediate—some sort of energy surged violently through the air, a heavy, unnatural presence spreading through the arena like thick, choking fog. Then—his severed head twitched. Blood-red tendrils erupted from his severed neck, writhing like grotesque vines as they latched onto the fallen body. A moment later, his head reattached itself.

I had seen a lot of crazy resurrection methods before, but this was new.

Lu Gao’s mouth split into a grin, his voice dripping with unhinged amusement.

“A Paladin? A Paladin in this place?! Hahahaha!”

Paladin.

This guy recognized me.

“Die.”

I moved.

Silver Steel flashed as I struck, aiming to take his head again before whatever was happening could fully unfold. But my sword was met with unexpected resistance—a parry.

Lu Gao’s arms… no, his entire body was changing. His skin darkened to a sickly crimson. Veins pulsed with unnatural energy. Jagged, blackened horns pushed out from his forehead. And then—wings.

Large, angelic wings of black feathers burst from Lu Gao’s back, unfurling with an eerie grace. Each feather shimmered with an unnatural darkness, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Viscous black ichor dripped from the tips, evaporating before it could reach the ground. With a single powerful beat, he ascended into the air, his presence suffused with something ancient and wrong.

I clenched my jaw.

I had read enough books in the past few days to know this world was completely incompatible with the world I knew. Lost Legends Online had its own classifications. Its own interpretations.

For example, demons.

Back in LLO, demons weren’t just a cultivation path. They weren’t just people who had strayed down the path of wickedness and embraced demonic techniques.

No.

Demons were a literal thing.

Lei Fen’s voice cut through the tension, sharp with confusion.

“What’s that?”

”An enemy,” I answered.

The air was thick with tension. Everyone else was still struggling to grasp what had just happened. But me? I didn’t need time to process.

With a thought, I removed my cosmetic robe—Lofty Jade Proposition.

The illusion faded, unraveling into wisps of cosmetic motes of light as the lightweight fabric vanished. In its place, my real equipment gleamed under the arena’s light.

A rustic golden armor, worn yet unyielding. A faint green cape, half-ethereal, half-real, rippling as if caught in an unseen breeze.

Immediately, I felt it—the shift. The artificial debuff from the robe, the 15% suppression on my stats, lifted like an unclasped weight. My senses sharpened. My Mana pulsed stronger.

Lu Gao’s grin faltered.

I met his eyes, my voice steady.

”An enemy that needs to be vanquished.”