Immortal Paladin

It had been three days since the expedition plans began rolling into motion. The high walls of Yellow Dragon City bustled with activity, cloaked in the haze of talisman smoke and the shimmer of enchanted cloth. A dozen boat artifacts, half of them shaped like elegant dragon-headed skiffs, the others like flattened gourd leaves, were moored along the upper platforms, floating just above the stonework, secured by chains that pulsed faintly with qi.

I stood on the highest tier of the wall, watching as the last of the supplies were loaded. Behind me, the city hummed with anticipation: final orders, last-minute preparations, the kind of nervous energy that always swirled before any long journey.

The Imperial Phoenix Guard was hard at work, finalizing our departure. They moved with that annoying military precision that said we’re important and you better not question our list-checking habits. One group tallied rations, another examined communication mirrors, and a few poor souls were still arguing over how many spare chamber pots we needed for a three-week trip.

I, meanwhile, had my own headache.

“No means no, Ren Jingyi.”

She stood just across me, arms crossed and eyes practically sparking. “You’re not leaving without me.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I am leaving without you. I’ll be back in a few weeks. It’s not like I’m moving to another planet.”

“What even is a pluh-net?” She stepped closer, practically invading my personal space. “You’re going to get Lu Gao, right? That means there’ll be danger. Which means I should go.”

I forced a smile. “You can’t go because precisely there’ll be danger. Do you want another Shenyuan situation?”

Ren Jingyi scowled, mouth curling into a sharp sneer. “Don’t use that against me.”

“It’s not ‘against’ you,” I said, spreading my hands. “It’s just… look, I’m being practical. I’ve got a terrible habit of nearly dying every other week. And knowing my luck, if you come, I’ll have to carry your corpse back in a Storage Ring, and I’d really rather not.”

She clenched her fists, her qi flaring slightly. “I’m not weak, Da Wei.”

Ooof… No Master? No His Eminence?

“No,” I sighed. “But you’re not invincible, okay?”

She jabbed a finger toward Jin Wen, who had unfortunately chosen right then to walk past us, holding a stack of sealed scrolls.

“What about him, huh?” she barked. “You’re bringing that relic along, and he’s barely even Fourth Realm! What is he gonna do, recite poetry at our enemies?!”

Jin Wen froze mid-step. His lips twitched like he was about to respond, but then he made the wise choice of pretending he was deaf.

I coughed into my fist, trying to stifle a laugh. “Ren…”

“Oh don’t ‘Ren’ me, Master!” she snapped. “Don’t act like bringing a dusty old historian is ‘strategic’ and leaving me behind is ‘logical.’ I’m Fifth Realm already! I can fight!”

Jin Wen was still standing there. Poor guy looked like he’d just seen a ghost from his past life.

“Power doesn’t mean invincibility,” I said, more gently this time. “You’re strong, sure. But strength’s not the only factor. I need people who can adapt. Jin Wen might look like a stick that’s been left out in the rain, but he knows the terrain. He’s been in the desert kingdom before. You haven’t.”

She scoffed. “So that’s it? Experience? I can gain experience if you let me come!”

“Or lose your life getting it,” I muttered. “Look, Jingyi’er, I get it. You feel sidelined. But sometimes, being strong also means knowing when to wait.”

“I hate waiting,” she growled, voice cracking just slightly.

I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Then hate me all you want. But I’m not budging on this.”

She stared at me, furious, lips quivering between yelling and biting back a sob. But finally, she turned around and stormed off.

I let out a long breath.

Jin Wen hesitantly shuffled over. “Uh… Lord Immortal Da Wei?”

“Yeah?”

“…Would you consider issuing an Imperial Order preventing her from ever comparing me to rotten tree bark again?”

“No promises,” I muttered. “But I’ll put in a good word for your poetry skills.”

“That was Kang, he’s the one who recites poetry… I am just a quiet old historian…” The old man sighed and walked away like someone who had just aged ten more years in ten seconds.

“I am just joking, no need to be sour about it,” Gods above. I hadn’t even left the city yet, and I already needed a rest. “I definitely have to keep my mouth in check.”

Footsteps approached behind me: quiet, deliberate, but not hiding. I turned slightly and saw Hei Yuan walking toward me, hands tucked inside his black and gray robes, face as impassive as ever.

“Glad you made it,” I said. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I did say I would,” he replied.

“Well, you didn’t say it enthusiastically.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. Just stood beside me, his eyes following the horizon like he was measuring the weight of the sky.

I brought only two people from the Shadow Clan with me: Hei Yuan and Jin Wen. Neither of them had pledged themselves to me, not formally, not with oaths or pacts. But they volunteered for this trip. That said something. Maybe not loyalty, but intent. And intent could be just as valuable.

I glanced at him. “How are you holding up?”

Hei Yuan folded his arms behind his back. “Just returned with the other Imperial Phoenix Guards. We made contact with some of my embedded agents in this part of the continent. The communication array in this region’s weaker than I expected, but it’s still operational.”

I nodded. “Your clan’s information network. Anyone over there got details on the Kingdom of the Promised Dunes?”

He gave me a small, tired shrug. “As much as anyone else knows. Which is to say, not much. The Dunes are secretive. Proud. Even the Martial Alliance doesn’t fully control them. They’re… cooperative, but not submissive.”

“I figured,” I said. “Still, worth asking. I’ve been doing my homework. Been reading, interviewing merchants, cultivators, even a guy who claimed to have married a dune princess. He was lying, obviously… couldn’t even name the capital city.”

Hei Yuan gave the faintest twitch of a smirk.

“But hey,” I continued, “never hurts to double-check the myths. Go ahead, recite what we do know. Might help me organize my thoughts.”

He nodded once. “The Promised Dunes were originally a part of the Tribal Factions of the Great Desert. Independent tribes. Nomadic. Always fighting amongst themselves, but bound by shared bloodlines and traditions. During a great crisis, details unclear, they unified, at least partially, and aligned themselves with the Martial Alliance.”

“Which means,” I said, “they’re technically not under the Empire’s thumb.”

“No,” Hei Yuan said. “They answer only to themselves and the Alliance. It’s complicated.”

He wasn’t wrong.

The Martial Alliance… that was a headache all on its own. A world-spanning organization composed of State-Sects, each powerful enough to rule entire countries. From what I’d pieced together, they functioned like a self-regulating council, enforcing balance and providing arbitration for disputes the Empire didn’t, or couldn’t, touch.

I couldn’t think of a perfect Earth comparison, but I’d say the United Nations came kind of close.

Except, here? The Martial Alliance was armed to the teeth. Every one of its member sects could topple cities, and the Alliance itself? A behemoth that could stand toe-to-toe with the Empire.

Hei Yuan continued, “The Promised Dunes send representatives to the Martial Alliance’s summits. They keep their distance from the Empire, though they’ve fought together in major wars. But internally, the Dunes remain a sovereign power.”

“Cultural differences?”

“Vast. Religious, too. They worship the Endless Sun and its Heralds. Their cultivation methods revolve around heat, pressure, and illusions. Their strongest clans train in the Sand Dreaming Arts, techniques that let them slip between layers of perception.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Dreaming arts?”

He met my gaze. “They believe the world is made of overlapping dreams. To strike the real, you must know which dream you’re in. Their highest masters… never wake up. But they can still kill you.”

“Neat,” I muttered. “Also terrifying.”

Hei Yuan shrugged again. “We’re walking into foreign lands. Expect foreign rules.”

“Got it.” I sighed and turned to watch the floating ships below. “Thanks, Hei Yuan. Really. This trip’s gonna be insane, and I need people who aren’t.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Then why bring Jin Wen?”

“…I walked into that one.”

But hey, the old historian wasn’t that bad.

Hei Yuan gave the barest ghost of a smile, then returned to silence.

The wind blew harder. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.

Departure was near.

“Just a question,” Hei Yuan said, breaking the silence beside me.

I didn’t look at him right away. “What is it?”

He squinted toward the boats and the women moving among them. “This is my first time seeing the Imperial Phoenix Guard in person. But… are they really all women?”

I sighed. “Yeah. All of them.”

“Great figures too,” a loud voice chimed in behind us.

I turned just in time to see Jiang Zhen sauntering over, arms folded behind his head and a grin on his face. He nodded appreciatively at a trio of Phoenix Guards walking across one of the docked skyships, balancing heavy supply crates like they weighed nothing. “Strong hips. Graceful steps. That one’s probably a dancer.”

“Jiang Zhen,” I muttered, dragging a hand across my face.

He winked at me. “What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

The Imperial Phoenix Guards were a sight, I’d admit that. Not for the reason Jiang Zhen implied, though.

They moved with precision, discipline baked into their bones. Their crimson and black armor glinted with golden accents, not flashy, but regal in a way that demanded respect. Each of them wore the winged sigil of the Phoenix Guard across their breastplate, and a shimmering silk sash marked their individual ranks, silver, gold, or the rare platinum. Their weapons were varied: spears, sabers, bows, and fans. Some carried dual curved daggers sheathed at their hips, while others summoned construct tools and spirit tablets with flicks of their fingers.

A dozen of them were currently moving in synchronized formation, directing cargo through the air with spirit art techniques while others reviewed route sigils and finalized barrier matrices on the boats. It was like watching a dance performed by lethal artisans.

I turned back to Jiang Zhen and stared at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but thank you for coming on short notice. Picking up Ren Jingyi personally, I appreciate that.”

He grinned wider. “Of course. The brat’s like a daughter to me.”

“Right. And while I appreciate it, I feel obligated to remind you…” I tilted my head toward the guards. “The Imperial Phoenix Guard are all, on average, at the Fifth Realm.”

He puffed up his chest. “I’m at the Sixth Realm.”

I leaned in slightly. “Their captain is at the Seventh.”

That shut him up.

His smirk withered a little, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. Just looking. No need to send me flying off the battlements.”

I snorted. “I wasn’t going to. But she might.”

Jiang Zhen quickly redirected his gaze to the sky. “Lovely day today.”

Hei Yuan coughed quietly into his fist.

I just stood there for a moment longer, letting the wind brush through my hair, watching as another sleek boat artifact floated down beside the others like a leaf settling into place.

The Imperial Phoenix Guard didn’t look back at us. They were too focused, too busy, too professional.

They didn’t need to be feared because they were women.

They needed to be feared because they were damn good at their job.

“There has to be a story behind it, right?” Hei Yuan prodded, not letting it go.

I gave him a sidelong glance. “Behind what?”

He gestured toward the Phoenix Guards again, specifically toward a spear-wielding woman barking orders at her subordinates while standing atop a floating cargo crate.

“The Imperial Phoenix Guard. They’re responsible for safeguarding the Emperor, yeah? So how come… you know, they’re all women? That’s got to be controversial.”

Jiang Zhen, still loitering nearby, smirked and leaned in. “I’ve been wondering that myself. Not that I’m complaining.”

I shook my head. Of course, he wasn’t.

But Hei Yuan’s question wasn’t entirely wrong.

“All right, all right,” I said, hands slipping into my sleeves. “You really want to know?”

Hei Yuan nodded eagerly. Jiang Zhen leaned forward like I was about to tell the best tavern tale of the season.

So I told them.

“The Imperial Phoenix Guard’s all-female composition started because of one person—His Majesty’s mother, the Empress Dowager.” I paused for effect. “She ordered it herself. Said she hoped her son would… enjoy himself a little more.”

Jiang Zhen faked a cough and turned it into a laugh. Hei Yuan, meanwhile, paled slightly.

“Master Wei,” he hissed, eyes darting left and right, “wouldn’t that be considered slander?”

“Slander?” I raised a brow. “It’s not slander if it’s true. Besides, I heard it straight from Xin Yune’s mouth. She was close to the late Empress, you know.”

It was only known to a few people that Xin Yune was, in fact, the Empress Dowager, but she was more famously known as the Empire’s Divine Physician. Nongmin requested her identity as his mother would remain a secret, something I complied with.

“Still,” muttered Hei Yuan nervously.

“Relax. The guards themselves don’t mind. They’re professionals through and through. They’re proud of who they are. If anything, they’d probably beat you up after you said something disrespectful, not before.”

That didn’t comfort him much.

Still, I figured I should take the edge off. “But we’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the Emperor,” I added, letting my tone shift to something more serious. “Even with a guard full of beauties around him, I doubt he’s ever so much as blinked twice. The man’s like a damn robot.”

Jiang Zhen blinked. “What’s a robot?”

“Never mind.” I waved it off. “It’s a ‘me’ thing.”

Jiang Zhen didn’t press. Instead, he leaned his shoulder against a wall and asked, “So what do you think? Want to know why I’m really here?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I figured it wasn’t just to ogle women and babysit Ren Jingyi.”

He shrugged. “The Seven Grand Clans are making trouble again.”

That made me frown.

“Trouble how?” I asked.

“Interfering with demon hunts. Securing border territories for themselves. A few of them are using the demon infestations as excuses to press influence into weaker vassal states.”

Just hearing the phrase Seven Grand Clans made my stomach twist. They were, in essence, the miniature versions of the Seven Imperial Houses: ambitious, ancient, and way too arrogant for their own good.

“And the Empire’s doing nothing?” I asked.

“They’re watching,” Jiang Zhen said. “But you know how it is. As long as it doesn’t disrupt the capital, they won’t move.”

I exhaled through my nose and looked toward the sky, where the first sunboat shimmered against the afternoon light.

So much for a smooth expedition.

I wandered down the rows of Imperial Phoenix Guards checking supplies, fixing cargo seals, and tuning the qi-guidance formations on the boats moored atop the Yellow Dragon City’s high walls. Their discipline was admirable. Their aesthetics? Also admirable.

I spotted one of them, a sharp-eyed spearwoman whose features were more ethereal than militant. Her armor clung to her like sculpted gold and crimson silk, and she had that classic “deadly and don’t-ask-questions” look all the Phoenix Guards seemed to share.

Naturally, I walked up to her and said, “Hey, cutie, you don’t mind running an errand for me, do you?”

She blinked, a bit startled. Her face flushed a soft pink, but she managed a composed nod. “I will do as you instruct, Sir Wei.”

Huh.

I blinked right back at her, genuinely surprised.

Was that… did my charisma stat just finally activate? After all the chaos, bloodshed, and emotional trauma, was this the moment it chose to shine?

“Wow,” I muttered. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

I figured it wasn’t just the stat. Rise in reputation, cultivation, titles… yeah, that probably helped. Being publicly recognized by the Emperor had a few perks. I’d have to remember to abuse, I mean, responsibly use them.

“I need a favor,” I told her. “A friend of mine’s stuck with demon-hunting duties here in Riverfall, but the Seven Grand Clans are sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Do you have any idea how we can get them to back off?”

She tilted her head slightly. “I don’t have any executive power,” she said with a hint of apology. “We’re just bodyguards, really. But…”

I leaned in.

“But,” she continued, “since His Majesty will soon announce you as an Honored Friend of the Empire, your words will carry political weight. If you write a formal letter addressed to the Seven Grand Clans, it might make them reconsider their interference. Especially if you frame it as a contribution to Imperial peacekeeping.”

My brows lifted. “That’s… actually a good idea.”

Before I could even turn to yell at Jiang Zhen for paper and ink, the Phoenix Guard reached behind her sash and produced a folded sheet of fine paper, an inkbrush, and a small jade-capped inkpot. Without missing a beat, she knelt slightly and offered her back.

“I can be your desk,” she said seriously. “Please write what you need.”

I stood there, brush halfway to dipping, blinking in awkward silence.

This was awkward. On so many levels. Her posture was perfect, her back smooth, and the inkpot sat balanced like this was a routine mission task. It probably was.

“Nongmin,” I muttered under my breath, glancing at the heavens, “if this is one of your honeypot attempts, I swear on my former teaching credentials, I will smack you.”

Still, a plan was a plan.

I dipped the brush, and, trying not to press too hard against her spine, began to write.

By the time I finished writing the seventh letter, my hand was sore (kind of) and I’d used more honorifics than I cared to count. The Seven Grand Clans each had their own delicate ego, and if I offended even one of them, they’d likely respond by doubling the number of demons they were allegedly trying to “contain.”

Still kneeling, the Phoenix Guard beneath me waited until the final stroke dried before standing up and rolling the letters with practiced grace. She beamed at me, her earlier blush returning in full force.

“I’ll have these dispatched immediately,” she said, giving a salute that made her armor shimmer in the sun. She dashed off toward the comms division, her crimson sash fluttering behind her like a silk ribbon in a storm.

“...Someone’s having fun,” I muttered under my breath.

Before I could turn around, boots clanked confidently across the high wall stones.

“Captain of the Imperial Phoenix Guard’s Left Wing, reporting for duty!” declared a striking woman with flame-red hair and armor far more ornate than the others. Gold feathers curved around her shoulders and the phoenix crest on her breastplate seemed almost alive with qi. If the others looked like refined bodyguards, she looked like she could solo a battlefield.

The Imperial Phoenix Guard was split into two wings: Left and Right. The Right Wing remained in the Imperial Capital to guard the throne, while the Left Wing accompanied imperial expeditions like this one.

I gave her a nod. “Go on.”

“All preparations are complete,” she said briskly. “Nine Soaring Dragon boats are warp-ready. We’ve completed the tethering procedures for the three Formation Gourd boats as well, they’re synced to ride the dragons’ warp pathways.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Good job.”

The Soaring Dragon boats were our primary transport,  massive, sleek vessels inscribed with ancient flight and warp formations. The Formation Gourds were experimental support crafts, smaller, flexible boats able to anchor and amplify field arrays. Not easy tech to work with, even for the Empire.

I turned and found Jiang Zhen leaning against the railing, watching the fleet from a perch like some idle tiger. He looked far too relaxed for someone with incoming demon problems.

“I made a contract with Tao Long, just talk to him,” I told him, “the Ninth Realm cultivator. I’m sure you’ve already met him, but you’re going to coordinate with him on demon-hunting duties from now on. We had a talk yesterday and he was rather keen of keeping my spear…”

Jiang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “The man with the uncomfortably calm eyes? Yeah, I met him.”

“Good. Work with him. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

“Understood,” He smirked. “But you do know you are not my boss.”

We were almost ready to move. Supplies packed. Guards in position. Boats humming with energy. Even the politics were, for once, aligned in our favor.

Almost too smooth.

Which meant something was bound to go wrong.

“We’ll be leaving in five minutes,” the Imperial Phoenix Guard Captain informed me crisply, her red hair dancing with the wind as she turned sharply on her heel and barked a series of commands to her subordinates. The women scattered with flawless coordination, like a school of phoenixes taking flight.

Hei Yuan and Jin Wen were already making their way to the nearest Soaring Dragon boat. Jin Wen still looked somewhat traumatized from the verbal lashing Ren Jingyi had given him earlier. Hei Yuan, ever calm, was silently nodding to passing guards, observing, analyzing, storing everything like the quiet tactician he was.

I took a step toward the gangplank, then paused.

A flicker brushed the edge of my awareness. Faint, familiar. The kind of presence you don’t mistake, even in a sea of qi.

I sighed, deeply.

Spreading my Divine Sense further, I honed in. There. Crammed between crates in the lower storage deck. Concealed, or trying to be. I vanished with a Flash Step, reappearing beside a row of barrels filled with… something pungent.

Why was there even wine here?

I popped the lid off one barrel and frowned.

A pair of fluttering lashes peeked out from the shadows, followed by a wine-soaked arm and a bleary little face.

“Wa… wa… waaa…”

“Ren Jingyi,” I groaned, reaching in and dragging her out by the collar.

The girl was half-submerged in wine, and the other half was wobbling in drunken defiance. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth kept mumbling something about “justice” and “boats being for everyone.”

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.

“Why… just why?” I muttered, hoisting her over my shoulder like a sack of carrots. She gave a soft hiccup in response.

With a leap, I landed back atop the outer wall where Jiang Zhen was still lounging, arms crossed, watching the ships like a bored hawk.

“Here,” I said, dropping her into his arms. “Look after her, will you?”

Jiang Zhen caught her with surprising grace. He blinked, looking down at the wine-drenched mess in his arms as her head lolled dramatically against his chest.

“She’s drunk,” he remarked with a wry smile.

“Really?” I said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“She’s also clinging to my sleeve and muttering something about… becoming my sword companion?”

I turned away. “Not my problem. And don’t be weird…”

Jiang Zhen laughed softly, adjusting his grip so she wouldn’t slip. “This might be a challenging affair.”

“She’s your problem now.”

With that, I jumped down to the gangplank and boarded the ship, the low hum of its formations syncing to my presence.

Somehow, this trip was already turning into a mess… and we hadn’t even left the walls yet.