Immortal Paladin

The imperial throne room was a vast chamber of solemn majesty, its floor a seamless expanse of polished jade that reflected the golden light cast by towering braziers. Pillars of verdant nephrite, each carved with the writhing forms of celestial dragons, stretched high into the vaulted ceiling, where a mural of the heavens was depicted in exquisite detail—stars of crushed gemstone glittering against a lacquered night sky. At the end of the hall, raised upon a dais of radiant gold, stood the throne of the Grand Emperor. It was a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship, sculpted from a single slab of orichalcum, its backrest carved into the shape of an unfurled lotus.

And upon this throne sat the ruler of all under heaven, a man known by many names. To the world, he was the Grand Emperor. To those who feared him, he was the Final Emperor, the wielder of the Heavenly Eye, whose mere gaze could sunder mountains and lay truth bare. But to an affectionate few, he had a humbler name... Nongmin.

He exhaled softly, his expression unreadable as he snapped the portal shut with a flick of his fingers. Green sparks flared and vanished into the ether, leaving only silence in their wake.

And in that silence lay a man, Da Wei.

Unconscious and battered, his body slumped against the jade floor like a discarded weapon. His once-pristine armor, a fusion of foreign craftsmanship and divine invocation, was now a ruinous shell. The breastplate, once engraved with holy inscriptions, was cracked down the center, fissures branching outward like a shattered mirror. The pauldrons bore deep gouges, torn apart by forces that had no place in the mortal realm. His gauntlets were bent out of shape, fingers barely visible beneath the blood and soot that clung to the metal.

Beneath the ruined armor, his body fared little better. Blood seeped from wounds both fresh and half-clotted, staining the tattered remnants of his undershirt. A deep gash ran along his side, just beneath his ribs, the torn flesh a stark contrast against the faint glow of lingering divine energy that struggled to mend him. His face, partially obscured by tangled strands of black hair, was pale from blood loss, but his expression, even in unconsciousness, held an iron-willed defiance.

The air around him still crackled with remnants of power, vestiges of whatever battle had left him in this state. Though his body lay still, his presence was undeniable, like a blade dulled but not yet broken. 

“While I’d love to share tea with him, it is clear he is in no condition to engage in such frivolity,” said Nongmin as his golden eyes, radiant as twin suns, settled upon the only other person in the chamber. “Divine Physician Xin,” he said, his voice steady, neither demanding nor pleading, simply stating. “Take care of our guest. And make sure to protect his privacy. I’m sure our dear guest would appreciate being spared from dealing with flies, worms, and your average day vermin.”

The woman beside him, Xin Yune, moved without hesitation. She was dressed in flowing white robes embroidered with silver lotuses, the very image of serenity. With a casual wave of her hand, the broken and bloodied body of the stranger lifted from the floor, weightless as though caught in an unseen current. The man, Da Wei, as Nongmin believed his name to be, remained unconscious, his injuries grievous but not beyond Xin’s skill.

The Divine Physician studied the wounded man for a moment before nodding. “It would be best to tend to him in your private chamber,” she remarked, her voice light but assured. “The energies here are not suited for healing.”

Nongmin inclined his head slightly, conceding the point. With another flick of his fingers, the great doors of the throne room opened, and the Divine Physician, with Da Wei floating behind her, departed in silence.

For a moment, the Grand Emperor remained seated, his golden gaze lingering on the space where the portal had been. Then, with a quiet sigh, he closed his eyes.

The throne room returned to stillness.

The Empire had endured another crisis. Under his guidance, such tribulations rarely left lasting scars. However, one thing still lingered in his thoughts: Shenyuan. That old monster sure caused trouble for him. How unexpected. Nongmin had thought the Black Clan’s and Shadow Clan’s past had long been buried, its remnants either scattered or faded into obscurity.

Yet, not only had Shenyuan survived the purging and his schemes from that time, but he had reemerged stronger with designs of his own, entwined with the Eternal Undeath Cult.

A troublesome development.

Still, the most surprising aspect of the recent ordeal had not been Shenyuan. It had been Da Wei who ended it all.

The stranger was… an anomaly. He was not a blind spot to Nongmin’s Heavenly Eye, few things in existence were. Yet, Da Wei was concerning in a different way. The man’s moral compass did not fit this world. It was neither naive nor foolish, but it operated on principles that felt out of place, untethered from the unspoken laws of survival that dictated life in this realm. Nongmin had encountered many types of men: heroes, tyrants, and visionaries, but Da Wei was something else entirely.

He sighed, rubbing his temple before raising his fingers. With but a thought, Qi Speech carried his command across the vast reaches of his domain.

“Zhu Shin. Attend me.”

Moments later, the throne room’s grand doors swung open with a deep thrum, reverberating through the chamber like the beating of a great war drum.

A man entered.

He was large, built like a moving fortress, every step heavy with restrained power. His presence alone carried the weight of a seasoned warrior, one who had stood at the Empire’s borders and held back countless tides of destruction. His armor, though grand in craftsmanship, bore the marks of battle, etched scars of long-forgotten wars.

He was General Zhu Shin, a cultivator of the Ninth Realm and one of Nongmin’s most trusted subordinates.

Zhu Shin knelt before the throne, fist to chest in a formal salute. His voice was deep and steady. “Your Majesty.”

Nongmin regarded him for a moment before speaking. “How fares the defense against the demonic forces?”

He already knew the answer, of course. His Heavenly Eye had long since shown him the state of the frontlines, the battles fought, the victories claimed, and the lingering struggles. But this was not an empty question.

It was a habit.

A habit he had cultivated for the sake of his people, to acknowledge their efforts, to ensure their work was appreciated, and to make clear that the battles they fought were seen.

Zhu Shin exhaled before responding. “The demonic incursions have been repelled along the western border. The Black Tides were held at Mount Qingshi, and our forces secured a decisive victory. However, there are still lingering infestations in the northern wastelands. We have sent purification squads to deal with the remnants.”

Nongmin nodded. “Well done. You have led them admirably.”

Zhu Shin did not smile, nor did he boast. But there was a shift in his posture, the smallest sign of pride in his duty.

The Empire endured because of men like him.

General Zhu Shin remained kneeling before the Grand Emperor, his expression composed as he continued his report. His voice carried the weight of a man who had seen countless battlefields and knew the cost of war.

“The Seven Imperial Houses have been cooperative,” Zhu Shin stated. “Their swift response minimized casualties and prevented widespread damage. Their unity has been commendable.”

Nongmin inclined his head slightly. The Seven Imperial Houses were the backbone of his Empire, ruling vast territories and commanding immense power. It was always a delicate balance keeping them aligned with his rule, but in times of crisis, their cooperation was paramount. That they had acted accordingly this time meant fewer matters to clean up.

“However,” Zhu Shin continued, his tone shifting slightly, “the Black Clan suffered the most from this ordeal.”

Nongmin sighed inwardly. That was hardly surprising. The Black Clan, also known as the Black Imperial House, had once been the direct sword and shield of the throne. They were meant to be an unshakable pillar of the Empire. But now, they had become the greatest victims of what was likely the most significant coup attempt in the last millennium.

Though, in truth, neither the Black Clan nor the Shadow Clan was at fault.

They had once been a single and mighty clan. But history had split them apart, and their paths had diverged. The Black Clan remained in direct service to the Empire, while the Shadow Clan had withdrawn into secrecy, guarding their inherited knowledge that most had long since deemed dangerous or forbidden. 

Yet despite their differences, they had both been manipulated. Shenyuan had used them as pawns in his grand scheme.

“They were not the ones pulling the strings,” Nongmin murmured, his tone laced with irritation. His Heavenly Eye had long since shown him the truth. Shenyuan had been the true architect of this disaster. The Shadow Clan, the Black Clan… they had merely been caught in the web of a monster that should have died centuries ago.

But Shenyuan was dead now.

That should have brought Nongmin satisfaction. And yet… he clicked his tongue, a faint sense of disappointment lingering in his thoughts.

It had not been his hand that ended Shenyuan.

It was good riddance, of course. The world was better off without him. Had his schemes come to fruition, it would have thrown the entire balance of power into chaos. The Hell’s Gate had already been enough of a problem. Shenyuan’s frenzied blood demons had only worsened the situation.

Had Da Wei not been involved, Nongmin might have been forced to split his resources and fight a war that his Empire was not prepared for.

That was an outcome he would never have tolerated.

“The blood demons have been secured,” Zhu Shin reported. “The military has taken full control with the assistance of the intelligence division. Any remnants are being systematically purged.”

Nongmin gave a slow nod. That was as it should be. He had no interest in allowing such creatures to roam unchecked. But Zhu Shin was not finished.

“There is another matter,” the General added, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “The blood techniques used by Shenyuan’s creations… they are highly effective. Little cost, great power. If studied properly, they might be repurposed for our soldiers.”

Nongmin closed his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose. Of course, he would think that.

Zhu Shin was proactive when it came to strengthening the military, sometimes to problematic extremes. It was not a bad trait. It was precisely this drive that had made him such an indispensable subordinate. But in this case, it was a dead end.

“That would be a waste of effort,” Nongmin stated plainly. “I have already seen the truth of these techniques through my Heavenly Eye. They will not work as you hope.”

Zhu Shin frowned slightly. “May I ask why, Your Majesty?”

Nongmin waved a hand dismissively. “The cost is not as ‘little’ as it seems. The drawbacks are simply hidden well. To rely on such power is to invite disaster.”

The General bowed his head, accepting the judgment without argument. Nongmin appreciated that about him, loyalty tempered by pragmatism. Zhu Shin would push for what he believed would strengthen the Empire, but he also knew when to relent.

“What else?” Nongmin asked, shifting the conversation.

Zhu Shin hesitated for a brief moment before answering. “The World Summit, Your Majesty.”

Nongmin’s expression immediately darkened.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue in clear annoyance.

The World Summit, the grand gathering of sovereigns, sect leaders, and rulers of the great powers. It was a necessary institution, a place where the balance of power was maintained, where alliances were forged and grudges either settled or deepened.

And he had no interest in attending.

But ignoring it was not an option.

Not now.

Not when the signs of a turbulent era were becoming more and more evident.

Nongmin leaned back against the golden throne, exhaling softly. The weight of the Empire rested upon his shoulders, yet this was no burden... he had long since mastered the art of governance, balancing strength with wisdom.

”Go,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “You are dismissed, General.”

General Zhu Shin, still kneeling, clasped his hands and bowed low. ”As you command, Your Majesty.”

The massive doors of the imperial throne room creaked open as the General took his leave, his towering figure vanishing into the dimly lit corridors beyond. The heavy doors shut behind him with a final thud, leaving Nongmin alone in the vast chamber.

Silence reigned, save for the distant flickering of jade lanterns and the faint hum of spiritual formations embedded in the walls.

With a thought, Nongmin opened his Heavenly Eye.

He had already confirmed that Da Wei was in stable condition under Divine Physician Xin’s care. That was fine. What he needed now was leverage, to know the people around Da Wei.

With a wave of his hand, a set of bamboo scrolls materialized in front of him, each marked with crimson seals. These were the reports compiled by his son, Ren Jin, gathered from the observations of his grandson, Ren Xun.

It was time to see what pieces he had on the board.

With another thought, his Heavenly Eye turned to Ren Xun.

Dead.

His grandson’s corpse lay stuffed inside a Storage Ring of all things, an undignified end. There was not much to see, just an empty, lifeless husk sealed away in a pocket dimension.

But then, as his sight shifted toward the threads of fate, he glimpsed something… unclear.

A possible future where Ren Xun lived again.

Nongmin’s brow furrowed. A resurrection?

He prided himself on his ability to see fate’s currents, to divine the future with more accuracy than any mere prophet. Yet, even his sight had its limits... it was not absolute.

Still, if Ren Xun could return, it was worth noting. He would not be so foolish as to ignore something so unnatural.

Next, he turned his gaze toward another name on the list.

Gu Jie?

Dead.

A shame, but expected. She was always too reckless, from what little he had seen in Ren Xun’s reports. Cavalier even… and sometimes, too reliant on her special ability.

Ren Jingyi?

Alive.

But what truly caught Nongmin’s attention was who she was with, Tao Long.

Tao Long? That was a name he hadn’t heard in centuries. His old friend.

Curious.

Next, Hei Mao?

…Nothing.

Nongmin frowned. That could mean one of two things.

Either Hei Mao was dead, or something was obstructing his vision.

Given recent events, the former was more likely.

And then, the last name on the report.

Lu Gao?

Out of range. Nongmin could tell, after all, he could perceive his spark still… just too far away.

That meant he was outside the Empire. Nongmin narrowed his eyes. If the Lu Clan child had escaped beyond his sight, he would have to exert more effort to find him.

With a murmured incantation, he channeled his Heavenly Eye’s power, weaving a spell to enhance his vision. His sight pierced across continents, past mountains and rivers, across deserts and oceans, until finally...

A vast desert.

The shifting sands stretched endlessly beneath a burning sun. But before he could focus, before he could see clearly, a woman with rosy pink hair turned her gaze toward him.

And stared directly into his Heavenly Eye.

The world lurched as a sudden, suffocating bloodlust filled his vision.

Nongmin flinched.

It was not possible. No one, not even the greatest seers of the era, should be able to see him when he scried from such a vast distance. And yet, this woman had not only noticed him but had also locked onto him as if he were prey.

Then...

Darkness.

The connection was severed.

Nongmin lost sight of Lu Gao entirely.

A deep frown formed on his face.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Who was that woman?

More importantly, how had she intercepted his sight?

That was a problem for later. For now, he had bigger matters to consider.

Nongmin took a slow breath and exhaled.

Perhaps looking into Da Wei’s companions was a waste of time. He would need to adjust his approach.

Instead of chasing shadows, he would focus on the man himself.

With another thought, he turned his Heavenly Eye toward Da Wei’s future.

What he needed was a path... a series of simulated events that would allow him to guide Da Wei toward an agreement. One that would benefit the Empire.

The best-case scenario?

He recruited Da Wei.

A man with power beyond reason, someone who could withstand the attacks of the likes of Shenyuan without breaking a sweat, such a person could be an unstoppable force for the Empire.

A storm was coming. He knew it.

And in the end, when the dust settled, he would ensure that his Empire stood above all.