Immortal Paladin

“You’re telling me you can’t fly?” Jiang Zhen’s voice was full of barely concealed amusement.

I shot him a glare. “I can fall with style. That count?”

Jiang Zhen smirked from his perch atop his flying shovel, arms crossed like some ancient sage. The wind tugged at his robes, making him look annoyingly majestic. “No, my friend. No, it does not.”

Fuck him.

I folded my arms. took out Lofty Jade Proposition from the Item Box, and slapped them over my gear. “I’ll figure it out eventually.” The armor had a lot of drip, but they felt a bit clunky and I was starting to get used to the xianxia robe.

“Hm.” Jiang Zhen rubbed his chin like he was judging my entire existence. “A cultivator of your level and strength, yet you lack even basic flight skills…” He sighed dramatically. “Truly, the heavens are unfair.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re done mocking me, go report to the City Governor.”

Jiang Zhen hovered a bit closer. “And you? Not coming?”

I shook my head. “I’ll stay behind a bit.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Healing,” I said simply.

For a second, Jiang Zhen looked surprised. Then, to my irritation, he nodded approvingly. “Hm. Good. It seems you do have a sense of responsibility.”

“I could just let you handle it all,” I said. “You’re the one who can fly, after all.”

Jiang Zhen snorted. “See you later, ground-dweller.” Then, with a flick of his sleeve, he soared off toward the City Governor’s manor, leaving me alone in the aftermath of Yellow Dragon City’s worst time in years.

I sighed and pulled out my disguise by spraying myself with Chibi Perfume. My body shrank in size, and my features softened into something small, harmless, and impossible to associate with the Paladin who had just fought an eldritch nightmare and a fallen angel who had too much xianxia.

Time to get to work.

I moved through the city with my superhuman speed, darting through alleys, leaping over rooftops, and flinging Cure at every injured person I saw. Most were unconscious or too dazed to question their sudden recovery, which made my job easier.

It was bad.

Really bad.

The city had suffered more than just the demon attack. Word of the monstrous entity had thrown everything into chaos, and where chaos went, opportunists followed. A crime spree had broken out—looters, thugs, and desperate people making the most of the disaster. Not to mention the sheer number of fights that had erupted thanks to the demon’s lingering aura.

I remembered how it worked in Lost Legends Online. Just being near a demon could change NPC behavior. Fear, rage, desperation—all heightened. The strong-willed could resist, but the weak? They’d snap, lashing out in madness or blind terror.

Brukhelm had been strong enough to cover all of Yellow Dragon City with his aura. If not for the Great Barrier that Ren Jin and his people deployed, the city would’ve been an even worse wreck than this.

I kept running. Kept casting Cure. Kept moving, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop and see just how much damage had really been done.

I passed by Lin Lim’s camp and immediately knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t just the usual post-catastrophe exhaustion hanging in the air—this was something worse. The atmosphere felt thick with resentment. Lin Lim’s people were gathered in the center, tense, their gazes wary. Surrounding them was a small but growing crowd of Yellow Dragon City residents.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you people weren’t here!”

The accusation cut through the murmurs, sharp as a blade.

Lin Lim stood at the front, her mask nowhere in sight. Her scarred eyes were fully exposed, yet she moved like she could still see just fine. Her face was unreadable, but I could tell she had been expecting this.

“Do you have proof of this claim?” she asked, her voice calm.

A man at the front scoffed. “Proof? The whole city saw what happened! Ever since you and your people arrived, things have gotten worse! First, the tournament is ruined, then a monster appears, and now look—looting, destruction, our own people turning on each other! Don’t act innocent! If it weren’t for your kind bringing trouble here, none of this would’ve happened!”

There were murmurs of agreement. A woman clutched her child, glaring. “People died,” she snapped. “People lost their homes! And while we were trying to survive, you were—”

“We were protecting who we could.” Lin Lim’s voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Do not twist the truth.”

The woman’s glare deepened. “You call that protection? Some of your own people fell to that demon’s influence! You couldn’t even control them! And now you expect us to believe you’re on our side?”

Lin Lim inhaled slowly.

“None of us were immune to that presence,” she said. “I tried to contain the chaos. I tried to keep my people together. But there are limits to what a person can do alone.”

“You shouldn’t have been here at all,” another voice muttered.

Lin Lim shook her head. “Would you have fared better without us?”

There was an uneasy silence.

“I will not ask for gratitude,” she continued. “I understand fear. I understand loss. But you must also understand—none of us chose this.”

A few people looked away. The tension in the air didn’t vanish, but it shifted. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t as absolute. Some were starting to doubt, starting to reconsider. Others weren’t willing to let it go.

Lin Lim had done what she could.

I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time her people faced this kind of hostility.

Lin Lim stood tall, surrounded by her people. They weren’t exactly an organized force, but they had weapons, armor, and the hard-edged look of survivors. Their pilgrimage to Yellow Dragon City must have been filled with hardship. Every single one of them bore signs of it—scarred faces, weathered clothes, tense grips on their weapons. They looked intimidating enough, but intimidation only lasted until someone got reckless.

And someone did.

A rock flew through the air, arcing straight for Lin Lim’s head.

She moved before I could, tilting her head ever so slightly. The rock met her hand with a clap, its force absorbed in her palm before she let it drop harmlessly to the ground.

Silence.

Then, one of her men moved.

His sword flashed as he lunged toward the crowd, toward the person who threw the rock.

I was already there.

Between him and his target.

Clang!

His blade met my fingers. Not my palm, not my wrist—just two fingers pinching the metal like I was holding chopsticks.

The one who swung the sword froze, his face twisted in shock.

The poor guy he nearly cut down—the familiar arcade stall owner who had once sold Jia Yun a mask—had fallen back on his rear, wide-eyed and pale. And then he looked at me, eyes filled with recognition.

I exhaled. This was exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid.

“This farce ends now.” My voice rang out, cutting through the tense atmosphere.

The man gripping the sword tried to yank it free, but I didn’t let go. I turned my gaze to the crowd, making sure they heard me.

“Let’s get one thing straight—none of you want this fight.” I let go of the blade with a flick of my fingers, sending a slight jolt up the man’s arm. He stumbled back, gripping his sword like he was suddenly afraid of it. “You’re angry, you’re scared, but throwing hands right now? That’s just going to make things worse.”

Some of them looked away. Others still held onto their resentment, but they weren’t acting on it. Yet.

I turned to Lin Lim’s people. “And you. You think swinging weapons is going to help? You think making yourselves look more like a threat is going to solve your problems?”

A few of them shifted. They had no answer. 

I sighed and turned to the aggressors. “You’re all looking for someone to blame, but take a good look around. This city suffered. Your people suffered. Fighting each other won’t fix anything. So unless someone really wants to test how far I’m willing to take this—” I cracked my knuckles. “—I suggest you all stop.”

Silence.

Then, bit by bit, weapons lowered. People turned away. No one wanted to admit I was right, but none of them were willing to push further either.

Crisis averted. For now.

Lin Lim exhaled, shoulders still tense from the confrontation. Her scarred eyes remained fixed on me like she was trying to see beyond the obvious.

“Thank you, young master…?” Her words trailed off into a question, doubt clear in her tone.

Not surprising. I had just stopped a grown man’s sword with two fingers.

I gave her an easy smile. “You did well.”

She stared.

“…What?”

She blinked, then shook her head, looking almost embarrassed. “Uuh… Apologies, young master. You reminded me of my brother. He’s a genius too.”

Hearing that made me feel weirdly awkward. Like I was being lumped in with some prodigy I didn’t even know. And now… I felt conflicted about revealing my real form.

Still, I grinned. “He must be a genius with the ladies too.”

Lin Lim let out an awkward laugh.

…Wait.

Wait a minute.

Did she just see through me? Did she know I was actually in disguise? How did she know I wasn’t good with the ladies?! What gave me away?! Meh…

Jokes aside, I had a question on my mind. I gestured toward the tent behind her, where her people huddled, weary and uncertain. “What is it you wish to achieve by helping them?”

Lin Lim’s expression became serious.

“Atonement.”

Huh.

That was… admirable in its own way.

I didn’t ask what she was atoning for. If she wanted to say, she would.

Instead, I turned my attention to the wounded. There were too many of them—victims of the chaos, the looting, the paranoia that had gripped the city when the demon’s aura swept through.

I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t some divine healer with infinite power. But I was someone who could do something.

And I did.

Thus, I left Lin Lim... after flinging a few Cure spells on her camp.

I moved quickly, flinging Cure to heal open wounds and bruises, using Cleanse to purge the lingering side effects of fear and malice. Some injuries were too severe for basic healing, so I reached into my inventory and pulled out low-level resurrection stones.

People called death permanent, but in LLO, it wasn’t. Not always.

It was painfully naive to want zero casualties. Even more naive to throw away precious resources with no method to replenish them. But this was my choice.

If I had the means to help, why shouldn’t I?

As I worked, whispers began to spread. Murmurs of a divine healer, a saint of healing and demon-slaying. A ridiculous title, but one that would take root all the same.

I was too focused to notice.

Unbeknownst to me, that day marked the beginning of a legend. A story passed from mouth to mouth, of a wandering divine who wielded miracles in one hand and destruction in the other.