Immortal Paladin

”So, where to now?” I asked, glancing at Xin Yune.

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ”Follow me.”

Without another word, she strode forward, weaving her way into the depths of the city’s backstreets. It didn’t take long before I found myself trailing behind her through a maze of hidden alleys. The paths twisted and turned in ways that would have normally confused me, but with my Divine Sense combined with my Will Reinforcement cultivation, I quickly understood the function of the wards and hidden talismans surrounding us.

The pathways weren’t just random: each turn followed a deliberate pattern, like a lock being undone. The spiritual energy of the formations shifted subtly as we moved, almost as if acknowledging Xin Yune’s presence.

Eventually, we arrived at what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Inside, the place reeked of dust and neglect. The wooden beams were cracked, and the faint scent of rust lingered in the air. But I had seen enough deceiving appearances to know better than to judge too quickly.

Xin Yune turned to me, a knowing smile on her face. She seemed to be waiting for something.

I frowned. ”What is this supposed to be?”

She simply shrugged. ”Wait for it.”

A second passed.

”Wait for it,” she repeated, her grin widening.

I opened my mouth to retort, ”Is this some kind of elevator—”

Before I could finish my sentence, a burst of rainbow lights erupted beneath our feet. The brilliance swallowed us whole, the sensation eerily familiar. It reminded me of the warp function from the Floating Dragon. Damn, I missed that boat.

The next moment, the light faded, and we were somewhere completely different.

A hidden facility stretched before us, filled with people clad in black and white robes. Each figure wore a veil and a strange headcap, giving them an air of secrecy. The atmosphere buzzed with restrained energy, an undercurrent of purpose in every movement.

I exhaled slowly, taking it all in. This wasn’t just some forgotten corner of the city. No, this place had a purpose. If I had to compare it to something, it felt like a weapons or technology research facility, the kind of place where breakthroughs happened in secret, away from prying eyes.

The people moving through the corridors carried themselves with quiet efficiency, their black-and-white robes contrasting against the metallic sheen of the walls. Strange devices flickered with ethereal energy, while subtle runic inscriptions pulsed beneath my feet, reinforcing the structure with layers of enchantments.

This wasn’t just a hidden bunker. It was a nerve center, a place where the cutting edge of technology and cultivation met.

Xin Yune gestured forward with a flourish. “How about a little tour?”

I crossed my arms. “What’s this place?” My voice was edged with impatience. “I just want my damn gear back.”

My Wandering Adjudicator armor never really needed repairs in the first place. It had been crafted with self-repairing properties, one of the few things I could rely on. It wasn’t something just anyone could tamper with.

Xin Yune sighed, as if indulging a stubborn child. “It’s only been a few days since you fell unconscious, you know.”

I blinked. “A few days?”

“With precision... sixty-eight hours and fifty minutes.” Her voice was smooth, matter-of-fact, yet there was a certain satisfaction in her tone. “And before you ask, yes, I was here the whole time.” A beat passed before she added, “I watched you sleep all the way.”

I frowned.

There it was again... that deliberate wording. She was doing this on purpose, trying to make me uncomfortable. And yet, for all her teasing, she had gone out of her way to accommodate me. That much was clear.

Shaking off the weirdness of the moment, I focused on the more pressing matter. “So, my armor?”

“The researchers found something interesting.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “The self-replicating durability of your armor—they estimated it would take about a week to fully repair itself. But thanks to a little technological boost, they managed to accelerate the process. You can pick it up whenever you want.”

I nodded slowly. That was good news.

But then she smirked. “Of course, you could just take your armor and go.” She tilted her head, watching me. “Or you could take this once-in-a-lifetime chance to see something very few ever do.”

I exhaled through my nose, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. She made it sound like she was doing me a grand favor. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. The civilization here was vastly different from what I had grown up with, and even more advanced in certain ways than the world of LLO. Seeing how far their technology had come—how it compared to everything I knew—was tempting.

“…Fine,” I muttered. “Show me.”

Xin Yune grinned, eyes twinkling. “That’s the spirit.”

Should I be pissed that my gear had been touched by others? Absolutely.

But I bottled it up, saving it for when I finally confronted the Emperor.

I was so damn close to losing all of my patience and just storming his palace. But that would be biting off more than I could chew. As much as I wanted to, it wasn’t the right time.

I had priorities.

The thought of wanting to go home had become more and more of an afterthought. The way I saw it, life in this world was going to be terrible for me, no matter how much power I held. What was the point of strength if the bonds I formed could be so easily severed by death?

It wasn’t like I could just turn them into immortals and be done with it.

I exhaled through my nose and pushed the thought aside. For now, I needed my armor.

“Before you give me the grand tour,” I said, crossing my arms, “I want to pick up my armor first.”

Xin Yune nodded without hesitation. “Understood. I’ll lead the way.”

The rooms around us were divided by wooden and paper doors, each adorned with intricate paintings. Some depicted grand battlefields, others landscapes of serene beauty, and a few bore symbols I didn’t recognize. The artistry was impressive, but it also felt like each door held a story, a meaning only the people here would understand.

Xin Yune explained as we walked. “The area we’ve been warped into is randomized. No two arrivals share the same location.”

I raised a brow. “Why?”

“For security,” she replied casually. “Every personnel here is keyed into a specific room meant for them. If someone unauthorized ended up here, well…” She trailed off with an amused glint in her eye. “Let’s just say they wouldn’t get very far.”

Clever. If someone tried infiltrating, they’d be lost in a labyrinth before anyone even knew they were inside.

As we turned another corner, a question pressed at the back of my mind. “What’s your position here?” I asked. “Or rather, what exactly are you to the Empire?”

She smiled. “A freelancer.”

I scoffed. “So, what? You wouldn’t die for the Emperor or anything?”

Xin Yune let out an actual scoff of her own. “I’m a physician, not a soldier.” She flicked her sleeves, as if the idea was absurd. “Besides, like I said, I’m a freelancer. I work for the Emperor... not worship him.”

Again, not a single lie.

We walked past another set of rooms before curiosity got the better of me. “How old are you?”

She grimaced, whipping her head toward me like I had just committed an atrocity.

“That,” she said, her voice flat, “is overly rude.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

“You should be careful asking women their age,” she chided, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

I sighed, letting the topic drop. By now, we had already made several turns. This place really was a maze.

“…Alright,” I said, shifting the subject, “how old is the Emperor, then?”

Xin Yune didn’t hesitate. “He should be 1,268 years old.”

I frowned. “That’s oddly specific.”

She gave me a knowing look. “By the way, that information is Class 2 knowledge.”

I grimaced. Beyond doubt, this woman was an eccentric.

As we walked, Xin Yune continued her rambling, as if enjoying the sound of her own voice.

“The Emperor is actually fairly young compared to the real powerhouses that move the world,” she remarked. “You should be a bit nicer to him.”

I scoffed. “Nicer?”

She nodded, an amused glint in her eyes. “He’s basically an infant compared to you.”

That made me pause. “Compared to me?” I frowned. “And just how old do you think I am?”

Xin Yune hummed, her gaze flicking over me as if she were analyzing my very essence. “Well,” she said, tapping her chin, “based on your body’s condition, its structure, and the residual traces of energy within your cells… I’d estimate you’re somewhere between twelve thousand to thirteen thousand years old.”

I almost laughed in her face. She was way off.

Or so I thought.

Then it hit me.

From David_69’s perspective… that wasn’t so much the case.

I had been playing LLO since its beta phase, back when the game was still in its infancy. Fun days. The devs and mods actually made an effort to communicate with the player base, so it was pretty engaging.

The problem?

They were a bunch of chunni.

It was fun while it lasted.

However, at some point, the game devs, mods, and staff just stopped communicating with the player base. If not for their monthly update of the game, most of the players at that time would have suspected them either dead or just gone.

But still…

“Am I really that old?”

“Yes,” remarked Xin Yune in a deadpan tone. “You are an old bastard.”

I groaned inwardly. If I started taking game-time into account, converted into lore-accurate years, Xin Yune’s estimate wasn’t as ridiculous as I first thought.

Before I could respond, we arrived at a room. A single six-by-six-meter space, plain and unassuming. At its center stood my Wandering Adjudicator armor, displayed on a wooden dummy. A researcher circled it, sketching something in a notebook.

I frowned. Had they been studying my armor?

Before I could say anything, the researcher finally noticed us.

His gaze snapped to me, then to Xin Yune.

And then he sneered.

”Do you mind?” he snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. ”I was in the middle of actual research before you two came stomping in here like a pair of buffoons.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He wasn’t done.

”First, some glorified physician drags in some unconscious nobody, and now you’re back? Again?” He scoffed. “I swear, people have no respect for academia these days.”

I exhaled slowly. This guy was testing me.

With a quick sweep of my Divine Sense, I immediately understood what I was dealing with.

This guy was at the Seventh Realm. His cultivation was a notch higher than Hei Yuan, the elder of the Shadow Clan.

Speaking of the Shadow Clan, I needed to find a way to resurrect the ones in my Storage Ring. Their deaths still weighed on me, and while my priorities were stacked, I wouldn’t just leave them behind. If there were a way to bring them back, or at the very least, help those who remained, I’d take it.

I had already tried reviving Ren Xun and Gu Jie when I was with Ren Jingyi... and I failed.

I hadn’t even tried bringing out the Shadow Clan elders’ cadavers at the time.

It wasn’t the right moment. Not with Ren Jingyi watching.

If I were in her place, seeing strangers come back to life while the ones I cherished remained dead… I’d be heartbroken.

I clenched my jaw and pushed the thought aside. Priorities.

Xin Yune, either unaware or just ignoring my internal conflict, gestured lazily at the researcher.

“This is the Imperial Grand Scholar, Sikao Biaoji,” she introduced with a smirk. “While his fighting ability is inferior even to someone at the Fifth Realm, he’s got a really good head on his shoulders.”

I scanned him properly with my Divine Sense, seeing past his veil. Middle-aged, at least in physical appearance, though that meant little in a world where cultivators could live for centuries.

I didn’t care much about his credentials. I just wanted my armor.

Without another word, I stepped forward and reached out toward my Wandering Adjudicator—

Smack.

I stopped, staring at my now-reddening hand. 

Sikao Biaoji had taken out a fan and slapped my hand away.

That was… frankly impressive.

There was probably something special about the fan.

I slowly turned to look at him.

He sniffed, completely unfazed.

Seriously, dude?

I narrowed my eyes. “I promise,” I said slowly, “you don’t want this beef.”

Sikao Biaoji looked at me with ridicule, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“What beef?” he scoffed. “I don’t even eat beef! Haven’t touched it since I reached the Fourth Realm!”

I sighed. This guy…

He gave off the impression of a proud researcher... the type who would take offense when questioned, or someone who would throw a tantrum for interrupting his precious work. Or maybe both.

Too bad for him, I wasn’t feeling polite.

I reached forward and grabbed my Wandering Adjudicator armor, ignoring the increasingly furious look on his face.

Before he could protest, I stuffed it into my Item Box in a single motion.

And then, before his very eyes, I equipped it directly from the Item Box.

The armor settled onto my body, seamlessly hidden under the cosmetic item I was already wearing.

Sikao Biaoji’s face twisted in disbelief. Then fury.

Snap!

His fan lashed out again, aiming for my hand.

This time, I was ready.

I switched my TriDivine ability from Divine Might to Divine Flesh. With sheer willpower, I redirected the reflected damage back into his fan.

Crack.

His precious fan snapped in half.

Silence.

The scholar stared at his now-ruined fan. Then at me. Then back at his fan, like he was struggling to process what just happened.

I ignored his dumbfounded look and asked, “Did you tamper with my armor?”

His expression darkened. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped. “I didn’t even manage to disassemble it! You think I wouldn’t if I could?! I was lucky the spell formations managed to accelerate their self-repair!”

I studied him.

No lies.

That was enough for me.

Since he hadn’t messed with my armor, I’d be gentle with him.

I activated Divine Word: Rest.

The effect was instantaneous.

Sikao Biaoji collapsed, falling asleep without resistance.

The Sleep status ailment was absurdly powerful in its own right, since few had complete resistance to it.

I turned to Xin Yune.

“I changed my mind,” I said flatly. “I don’t want that tour anymore.”