Immortal Paladin

Jiang Zhen let out a quiet scoff as he swirled his tea, watching the arena below. ”I still can’t believe the City Governor decided to continue the festival.”

I took a slow sip, enjoying the warmth of the cup in my hands. ”It would’ve been a pity if he didn’t.”

Jiang Zhen gave me a sideways glance, arching a brow. ”Oh? That’s an interesting take, considering everything that just happened.”

I gestured toward the arena below, where the festival’s final matches were in full swing amidst the rubble left behind in my fight with Brukhelm. ”Ren Jin has a good thing going on here. If the festival stopped now, what would be left? Just fear and uncertainty. A city full of people waiting for the next disaster.”

Jiang Zhen hummed, considering that.

The truth was, I had my doubts too. The attack, the chaos, the demon—Yellow Dragon City had suffered. But in the aftermath, people needed something to hold onto. Something normal.

And this festival? It was normal. It was a reminder that life didn’t just stop.

I exhaled, leaning against the railing. ”Besides, after everything that’s happened, don’t you think people deserve a little distraction?”

Jiang Zhen snorted. ”So, what you’re saying is, Ren Jin just wants to keep morale up?”

”Something like that,” I admitted.

Jiang Zhen took another sip of his tea, watching the fights below. ”...Tch. Maybe he really is a prince worth following.” 

But didn’t he already lose? Ah, I should stop this line of thinking… The last thing I wanted was to be dragged into a court drama of xianxia proportions.

The arena roared with excitement as Fan Shi, Jia Yun, and Huo Jun clashed in a three-way battle for the championship. The sight was mesmerizing—Fan Shi, a phantom on the battlefield, moving like a ghost, her eerie presence making her opponents second-guess their own attacks. Jia Yun, fast and relentless, danced through the fight with an almost playful grace, her third-person speech throwing off the rhythm of her opponents... or something like that. And then there was Huo Jun, a blazing force of nature, his strikes carrying the weight of a wildfire ready to consume anything in its path.

I had healed each of them to tip-top shape before the fight began—no excuses, no disadvantages. If they wanted the title, they’d have to earn it fair and square.

Jiang Zhen, sipping his tea beside me, glanced over with mild curiosity. ”Hey, back when I still had my stall… what was the reason you kept coming back?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. ”What, you’re suddenly reminiscing?”

He scoffed. ”Just answer the question.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. ”For the fun of it.”

Jiang Zhen clicked his tongue. ”Liar. Nobody goes out of their way that much just for fun. There had to be another reason.”

I didn’t answer right away. The truth? I had realized I could grind my Divine Sense skill just by watching him work... and also the fishies. But admitting that would take away the mystery, and where was the fun in that? For some reason, the fishies were perceived by my Divine Sense as unique. There was a ’spark’ or something. In the end, I caught the one with the smallest spark. 

At Jiang Zhen’s scowl, I just smiled cryptically and turned my attention back to the fight.

My thoughts drifted back to the day I first arrived in this world. It had barely been a week—technically, today was the sixth day of the festival, but at this rate, it would be the seventh before I knew it.

In that time, I had:

Slapped young masters. Twice.Recruited a cultivator with a tumultuous past who was now quietly watching the match beside us. (Gu Jie, looking stoic beside the goldfish.)Bought a goldfish named ‘Ren Jingyi’ that was happily swimming in a bowl on the desk.Befriended a Sect Master.Exchanged sharp words with Sect Elders.Bet big on xianxia fights and even sabotaged one of the said Elders.Befriended a few disciples.Fought a freaking doped-up demon.Learned there was probably an eldritch entity in my head.Yeah. It had been a busy week.

Jiang Zhen swirled his cup before taking a sip, giving me a side glance. ”You look deep in thought. Feeling sentimental?”

I smirked. ”Just realizing how eventful my week has been.”

He huffed a small laugh. ”No kidding. You’ve probably done more in six days than some people do in six years.”

I hummed in agreement before shifting the topic. ”Say, Jiang Zhen, what do you think is the fundamental difference between mana and qi?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. ”Where’s this coming from?”

”Curiosity. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Jiang Zhen leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table. ”Well… if I had to sum it up, qi is more intrinsic to the body, while mana is more external. Qi refines the self—body, mind, and soul—while mana manipulates the world around you... or so how I understood it from my perspective after hearing your explanation.”

I rubbed my chin. ”So qi is about self-strengthening, while mana is about affecting the environment?”

”That’s a simple way to put it,” Jiang Zhen said. ”Too simple. Qi cultivators train their own existence, pushing their limits, extending their lifespans, and becoming something beyond mortal. Mana users, though? I could be wrong because you are a bad teacher and you have a shit explanation. So what I am thinking is... practitioners of mana wield external forces—controlling elements, bending reality to their will, but they don’t necessarily refine themselves in the same way. What’s better? I don’t know. I understand too little to do comparative analysis at this point, but yeah... it’s something like that.”

”Yeah, that’s something,” I considered his words. ”Then what happens when you try to combine the two?”

Jiang Zhen clicked his tongue. ”That’s a dangerous road. Pioneering a new path… is always a dangerous road.”

”But it’s not impossible,” I pointed out. “You should know, you have Fan Shi.”

Mana was a theoretical energy, one that didn’t technically exist in a tangible form. You couldn’t observe it with the naked eye—or even with any known spectrum, for that matter. It was the unseen force that moved elements, shaped energies, and interacted with the world in ways that defied normal physics. Unlike qi, it had no fixed quantity, only a shifting quality tied directly to stats like Charisma, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Perception. Some theorized that mana originated from the Great Subconscious, a vast and unknowable sea of thought that all sentient beings were connected to.

Despite being called ‘theoretical energy,’ mana still had visual representations—but only to the person using it or if the skill would interact with other forms of energy. That was where the mumbo-jumbo kicked in, about perception shaping reality and reality shaping perception. Honestly, it was just as convoluted as the qi lore of this world.

Jiang Zhen had been surprisingly cooperative in our discussions. He wanted a breakthrough as much as I did. In his case, his cultivation.

“Qi is a power that permeates all life,” Jiang Zhen explained, swirling his tea as if it contained the secrets of the universe. “It is the breath of the world, the rhythm of existence, the foundation upon which all cultivation stands.”

I squinted at him. “Uh-huh. And in stats terms?”

Jiang Zhen smirked. “Well, according to the system you followed… Probably… Eh... Constitution, Strength, Agility, and Dexterity. Those shape one’s capacity to cultivate qi, which at least explains the framework of the Martial Tempering Realm or the First Realm as people called it. Though that would be painfully incorrect, it was the closest analogy to what you have in mind. Frankly, both systems operate on different ideologies and visions it is dangerous to experiment with them together. Frankly, it is stupid to try merging this two systems.”

Yeah, as if that didn’t stop you from teaching Fan Shi.

Not that I could understand. It was fascinating seeing everything come full circle.

I could imagine another player in my position—some eager min-maxer trying to mix both systems without a clue, only to mess up their compatibility and boom, self-destruction. I was very glad I had held back.

My thoughts turned to Fan Shi. She wielded both mana and qi—an anomaly in this world. That meant her training must have been a nightmare to get right.

“What’s her training like?” I asked. ”Fan Shi, I mean.”

Jiang Zhen sighed. “Fan Shi is a unique genius. She adapted quickly to our techniques, but finding the right cultivation method for her was a challenge. Her consciousness techniques—the ones that manifest in her—made it difficult. I had to carefully select her training, making sure it wouldn’t cause an imbalance to her attributes.”

“Let me guess,” I raised an eyebrow. “Fan Shi started late because it took you time to figure out what wouldn’t make her explode?”

”That’s putting it lightly,” Jiang Zhen nodded. “I spent years studying her to ensure she could walk this path safely.”

I stared at him. “Years? Damn. That’s dedication.”

Jiang Zhen simply sipped his tea. “A good teacher doesn’t let their disciple die from carelessness.”

I glanced back at the match below, watching Fan Shi fight with terrifying precision. No wonder in terms of cultivation level, she was a bit lagging compared to her peers. Yeah… cultivators in this world really were built differently.

Also...

Huo Jun won.

It was by the slimmest margin, but a win was a win. Fan Shi had fought with her usual eerie precision, and Jia Yun’s elemental techniques had nearly overpowered Huo Jun off balance multiple times, but in the end, Huo Jun had better technique and stats.

Jiang Zhen hummed beside me, clearly entertained. “You really suck at betting.”

I scoffed. “What did I say? I like betting on the underdog.”

With a flick, I tossed him the gold piece I had wagered—a unique coin from Lost Legends Online.

Jiang Zhen caught it between two fingers, turning it over with interest. “It certainly has a history to it… never seen anything like this before. I’ll ask a friend of mine if they’ve seen anything sharing the same aesthetic.”

Which was saying something. Jiang Zhen had lived long enough that if he were a mortal, he’d probably be a walking fossil by now.

He pocketed the coin and leaned back against the balcony railing, gaze still locked on the arena below. “What are your plans for that Lu kid?”

I exhaled slowly. I knew this question would come sooner or later. “He’s under my protection.”

Jiang Zhen’s lips quirked slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he casually added, “From what I hear, the Lu Clan has disowned him and is calling for his execution.”

I clenched my jaw. That was quick.

Not unexpected, though. Lu Gao had been demon-possessed, and now that he had lost the tournament and gotten himself tangled up with more complicated matters, they probably decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. If he died, it would tie up a loose end for them.

Tough luck for them—I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Rather than dwell on that depressing thought, I changed the subject. “So tell me about that old ruin.”

Jiang Zhen frowned. “What ruin?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “No way you haven’t checked the place yet.” I was referring to where Fan Shi found her Legacy Advancement Book.

He huffed. “There are many ruins, boy.”

“I mean the ruin,” I said. “The one I’ve been hearing about. I want to see it for myself and decide from there what my next move should be.”

Jiang Zhen hesitated. Then, after a beat, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

I blinked. “What?”

“The place appears and disappears at random intervals in just as random a location,” he explained. “The next time it will be opening is probably a year from now or could be longer.”

Well. That was a pity.

I stood up, stretching a bit. “I’m gonna check on Lu Gao.”

Gu Jie, standing quietly behind me, shifted slightly as if preparing to follow, but I gestured for her to stay put. She tilted her head at me, then nodded in understanding.

Jiang Zhen, however, turned his attention to her. “Gu Jie, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you… from Lei Fen.”

Gu Jie didn’t react much, simply watching him with that unreadable expression of hers. Well, whatever. I guessed I could leave them to themselves.

I stepped away from the balcony and activated Zealot’s Stride and Flash Step in tandem, my movements blurring as I sped through the manor’s corridors, diving deeper underground. The dungeons were colder than I remembered, with the air thick with dampness and the faint scent of aged stone and metal.

Lu Gao had been in a coma for some time and had only woken up this morning. Even so, he was still in rough shape.

I arrived at his cell, separated by thick steel bars.

Lu Gao lay on a simple cot, looking like he’d lost a fight with the world itself. His once-pristine robes were now nothing more than tattered scraps, his bandages stained from the wounds that had only recently begun to close. His complexion was better than before, but there was still a gauntness to his features.

My Divine Word: Rest had done a lot to heal his mental scars. Even if I had resurrected him, the trauma of what he’d gone through hadn’t completely left him. His body might have mended, but his mind… that was another story.

Lu Gao’s gaze slowly lifted from the ground, his eyes shadowed but lucid. He looked at me for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I remember you,” he said. “From the demon’s memories.”

I leaned against the cold steel bars, crossing my arms. “Yeah? What was that like?”

He exhaled, his posture weary. “Like watching a play unfold before me. I could see everything, but I couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t speak. It was like I existed, but I wasn’t real.”

That… sounded horrifying.

I tapped my fingers against the bars. “Then let me ask you this—how did the demon learn to cultivate?”

Lu Gao frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” His voice was hollow. “My dantian was supposed to be destroyed.”

Right. From what I understood, the dantian was where cultivators accumulated energy and roughly where their cultivation started. If his had been shattered, then logically, that should have meant no more cultivation. But Brukhelm had somehow managed it.

Interesting.

I studied him for a moment before asking, “So, what do you want to do now?”

His answer was immediate.

“Repent.”

I blinked. That was… plain. No dramatic declarations of revenge, no insistence on reclaiming his lost honor. Just a simple desire to atone.

I sighed, rubbing my neck. “Alright. I’ll accept you under my wing.” It wasn’t like he had a say.

Lu Gao’s expression barely changed, but I caught the slight flicker of surprise in his eyes.

I continued, “But with your cultivation crippled, you’ll be nothing more than an errand boy.”

He didn’t object. If anything, he seemed to expect that.

In truth, my decision wasn’t entirely out of kindness. I knew what I was doing.

Having a direct reference like Lu Gao—someone who had memories of a being that shared my power system and successfully cultivated something—would be groundbreaking. I needed to understand how Brukhelm had done it.

Of course, I would have preferred someone like Fan Shi, but I couldn’t be greedy. I wasn’t about to risk my relationship with Jiang Zhen or the trust I’d built with a promising cultivator just to experiment.

So, for now, Lu Gao would do.

“The demon… Bu-ru-Luk-Keng-elm…” Lu Gao started, his voice was hoarse, and had difficulty pronouncing the name. “He was arrogant. Spiteful. Cavalier in the path of cultivation.”

I stayed quiet, letting him speak at his own pace.

“He treated it like a game. Like a race to the peak without caring about the foundation.” Lu Gao’s fingers twitched slightly. “But that’s not how it works. Building a road isn’t just about reaching the destination. It’s about making sure you can walk back and forth without crumbling along the way.”

I hummed in thought. That sounded like something a more experienced cultivator would say. If Brukhelm had figured this out too late, then it might’ve explained some of his issues.

Lu Gao hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. Then, after a deep breath, he spoke again.

“At some point, despite his fluency in wielding qi, he… stopped agreeing with it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Stopped agreeing with it?”

Lu Gao nodded. “Something about incompatibility. His body couldn’t sustain it anymore. Even though he knew how to use it, something… rejected him.”

That was interesting. So, Brukhelm had struggled with qi at some point, even though he had successfully cultivated? What exactly caused that rejection?

Before I could ask more, the sound of footsteps interrupted us.

A woman entered. Well-dressed, noble in bearing, moving with effortless grace. She had an air of authority that immediately commanded attention.

She greeted me with reverence. “Young master. I must thank you for aiding our city in its time of crisis.”

Lu Gao respectfully bowed his head. “City Lord.”

Wait, City Lord?

I quickly pieced it together—she was the Governor’s wife.

She smiled, her gaze warm but sharp. “I am Yue Ruo.”

For a moment, I almost bowed or saluted or something, but then I remembered my current status. At the moment, I wasn’t just some passerby. If anything, I had the advantage here.

As she entered, I finally noticed something odd. The cell wasn’t locked. The bars were there, but there was no keyhole or obvious mechanism securing it.

Yue Ruo carried a tray of food, stepping in without hesitation. She made casual conversation with Lu Gao, asking about his condition, his meals, his thoughts.

I watched this exchange carefully.

Finally, I asked, “You’re not afraid he’ll run?”

Yue Ruo chuckled softly like I’d asked a naive question.

“He wouldn’t make it far,” she said. “Running would only further incriminate him. Besides…” She gestured toward the bracelet around Lu Gao’s wrist. “That is imbued with powerful fire spells. Should he attempt to escape, he would be thoroughly destroyed.”

And what if he kidnapped you? Sigh… Maybe she was secretly powerful or had hidden bodyguards I couldn’t detect even with Divine Sense…

I glanced at Lu Gao. He didn’t react. He already knew.

“One last thing.” I kept my voice casual, but there was weight behind my words. “Lu Gao, how did you become acquainted with the demon?”

Lu Gao blinked, looking almost startled by the question. “Huh?” He furrowed his brows, thinking hard. “Uuh… I can’t remember.”

I frowned. “Can’t remember, or won’t?”

Lu Gao shook his head. “No, really. It’s like… my memories are blocked. There’s something missing.” He looked frustrated, struggling to grasp at thoughts just out of reach.

That was concerning. Was it a natural effect of what he’d been through? Or had someone—or something—intentionally erased those memories?

“But,” Lu Gao continued, “I do remember performing a certain ritual. That’s how I made a contract with the demon.”

I narrowed my eyes. “A ritual?”

Lu Gao nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. It was… intricate. I remember needing specific materials, symbols drawn a certain way… and a name.” His expression turned uncertain. “But the name itself… I can’t recall it.”

That sent alarms ringing in my mind.

“Do you remember where you performed it?” I asked.

Lu Gao hesitated, then slowly shook his head. “No. I just remember… darkness. Like it wasn’t just a place, but something else.”

I let out a breath. That wasn’t helpful.

Still, this confirmed something important—Lu Gao hadn’t just stumbled upon the demon. He had called it. Which meant that whatever mess he had landed in, it was of his own making. Whether he’d been tricked or not was another matter entirely. I sincerely hoped that was the case, but considering Jiang Zhen’s claims of fighting a demon, then...

I glanced at Yue Ruo, who had been quietly observing our conversation. Her expression was unreadable, but I had no doubt she was filing away every piece of information she overheard.

For now, I had enough. I needed time to think.

“Alright,” I said, pushing off the wall. “That’s all for now.”

Lu Gao looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t push him. If his memories were blocked, then forcing it wouldn’t do anything but frustrate him further.

Yue Ruo gave me a polite nod. “I appreciate your patience with him, young master.”

I waved a hand lazily. “Not necessarily, but thank you for taking care of him.”