Immortal Paladin

It had been a week since my talk with Nongmin, and the preparations for the World Summit were still dragging on. Apparently, assembling the most powerful people in the world under one roof took more time than I expected. A lot of politics. A lot of pomp.

But that delay came with its perks. I had time to cultivate, catch up with people, and… well, “stuff.”

The Empire had loaned me a manor in Yellow Dragon City. Not some crumbling ancient compound either. This place was the real deal: spiritual wood beams, flowing qi ponds, reinforced formations, and even a garden filled with herbs I couldn’t name without help. A “gift” from Nongmin. Or a leash. Hard to tell with him.

Out in the courtyard, Lu Gao was running through his sword forms with deadly precision. Even from the hallway, I could hear the air tearing with each swing. The guy didn’t mess around.

Not far from him, Alice was instructing Ren Jingyi on the use of the whip. The crack of it echoed against the tiles, followed by a loud “Ow! What the hell, that hurt!”...Jingyi, of course.

I slid the door open, stepping into the kitchen with a wicker basket filled to the brim. Groceries. Not spirit beast meat or some thousand-year-old herb, no. Actual groceries. I didn’t bother using my Item Box, because… I didn’t want to.

Eggplants, potatoes, onions, rice, flour, tomatoes, spices… spices I had begged, borrowed, or bartered from all over the continent. It took a few sketchy deals and one awkward argument with a culinary cultivator who tried to sell me “Nine Heavens Salt” that was just regular salt dyed blue.

I hadn’t cooked in a long time.

Back on Earth, cooking was just a necessity. I lived alone in my apartment, and everything I made was more “passable” than “passionate.” But now? In a world where people feared kitchen smoke would ruin their cultivation, it felt almost rebellious to boil water and stir-fry vegetables.

I started with curry. Good old curry and rice. A rich roux formed with browned onions, garlic, and a mix of spices I’d managed to recreate from memory... turmeric, cumin, coriander, chili powder. I added chopped potatoes and carrots, then slow-cooked some diced meat from a beast I hoped wasn’t poisonous. It smelled incredible.

Next up, fries. I peeled the tubers, some sort of spiritual potato variant, and sliced them thin. Oil was expensive, so I borrowed a formation from a local cultivator to heat and reuse it safely. Fried them twice for crispiness. Salted them like I meant it.

Then came burgers. I ground meat manually using a technique that made my arm feel like it was dying. That was… an exaggeration. My arm wouldn’t die anytime soon. I pan-seared them, slapped them into makeshift buns I baked yesterday. Lettuce, tomato, even a bit of sweet sauce I brewed from local honey and vinegar.

For veggies, I stir-fried greens with garlic and sesame oil. And for Alice… desserts. Baked little sponge cakes soaked in syrup and paired with fruits. I even grounded my own coffee beans. Earth-style roast. By the time I was done, the kitchen looked like a battlefield. Plates stacked like spiritual artifacts. Aroma thick enough to make a Will Reinforcement cultivator salivate.

I called them over.

”Lu Gao! Ren Jingyi! Alice! Food’s ready!”

They came quickly. Lu Gao was first, wiping sweat from his brow and already eyeing the table like it was a rival. Ren Jingyi jogged in behind him, her cheeks flushed from training. Alice walked in last, the whip still coiled on her hip. The round table was already set. I never liked those long rectangular tables. Always felt like they were made for cold banquets and formal smiles. Round tables? They were for family.

“Take a seat,” I said, sliding into mine. Alice was to my left. Lu Gao was to my right. Ren Jingyi was across from me. I pushed a hand-ground cup of coffee to Alice. “Figured you’d want this.”

She arched a brow, sniffed it, then took a sip. “Still warm. You spoil me.”

“Just don’t let it go to your head.”

Lu Gao didn’t wait for ceremony. He reached for a burger, then some fries, then curry. He looked like a bear at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Me and Alice just stared.

“…What?” he asked, mouth half-full.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Alice just smirked. “You eat like the world’s ending.”

“It might be,” Lu Gao said, not missing a beat. “And this? This is worth it.”

Unlike most cultivators who believed mortal food clogged the meridians and tainted purity, Lu Gao didn’t hold back. He didn’t need to anymore. In fact, food in huge quantities seemed to help his cultivation. Something about his path being tied to physical and spiritual harmony, or whatever.

Ren Jingyi was less enthusiastic. She picked at the burger, took a bite, and glared at me.

“…What?” I asked.

“She’s not an idiot,” Alice said, sipping her coffee.

Ren Jingyi narrowed her eyes. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

“Hahaha!” I laughed, way too loudly and fake. “What’s today?”

She didn’t answer. Just took another bite, chewing it like it was my dignity.

“…I knew it,” she said finally, eyes still fixed on me. “You’re leaving again.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “…Yeah.”

Silence settled over the table for a second. Even Lu Gao stopped eating.

“Well,” Alice said, tone light, “at least you fed us first. That’s something.”

Ren Jingyi muttered something under her breath, but she kept eating.

I watched them: these weird, powerful, reckless, and special people who somehow became my responsibility. Even if I didn’t say it out loud, I knew I was going to miss them.

We ate. We laughed.

For a little while, it was like nothing outside the manor existed. No Outsiders, no Summits, no old grudges or secret plots. Just us around a round table, plates half-empty and smiles half-formed, all pretending we weren’t living in a world constantly on the edge of war.

Even Ren Jingyi tried not to feel bad about it. She pretended she was just focused on the food, but every now and then, her eyes flicked to me. Still, she talked. She told me stories between bites of burger and mouthfuls of rice.

”Back at the Isolation Path Sect,” she began, swinging her little legs under the table, ”I kept beating Fan Shi in everything.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean… that Fan Shi?”

“Yeah! But she’s slow,” Jingyi said with a proud puff of her cheeks. “She’s older than me, you know. But I still whooped her. Sparring, alchemy exams, and ghost hunting. All of it.”

Alice chuckled into her cup. “Poor Fan Shi.” Of course, she have no idea who Fan Shi was, but that didn’t stop her from engaging Ren Jingyi.

I remembered Fan Shi from the Martial Tournament here in Yellow Dragon City. A jade beauty, kind of brooding. Too much goth… or was it emo? It blurred together after a while. Long black hair, serious face, edgy vibes. But I did hear she was doing fine in the Isolation Path Sect. She had a decent Master after all.

“And then,” Jingyi said, pausing for dramatic effect, “an elder told me I had attitude problems.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “What’d you do?”

“I kicked his leg until he fell down.”

“…What?”

“He’s from Cloud Mist,” she added, like that explained everything.

It kind of did.

I rubbed my forehead. “You’re beating up elders now?”

She grinned. “Only rude ones.”

Yeah. That spoke just how unfair Ren Jingyi was. A little girl with the power to humble old cultivators who’d been around longer than my entire life back on Earth.

Then it was Lu Gao’s turn. He didn’t share much; he wasn’t the talkative type when it counted, but when the topic drifted to Xue Xin, his ears turned pink.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just watched his face as Alice casually mentioned, “Captain of the Left Wing, huh? Xue Xin’s been around a lot lately.”

Lu Gao coughed. “She’s… just doing her duty.”

Alice and I locked eyes across the table. We didn’t need words.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Duty.”

Lu Gao pretended to focus intensely on slicing his curry-drenched meat.

Before we could tease him further, a knock came from the front door.

Knock knock.

Xue Xin, of course.

I called out, “What is it, Captain Xue?”

She stepped inside without ceremony, armor polished and formal as always. Her gaze barely flicked over the table before landing on me.

“Your guest has arrived,” she said.

Behind her, I caught Lu Gao staring like someone had cast a charm spell on him. Starry-eyed didn’t even begin to cover it. He looked like a man halfway through composing poetry.

Xue Xin ignored him entirely.

I raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Tao Long.”

Ah. Right.

It was time, then.

Tao Long had sent word earlier, asking to accompany me to the World Summit. With his cultivation at the Ninth Realm, he was plenty strong. Politically connected too. Nongmin hadn’t objected, which was as close to an approval as one could get from him. Still, I wasn’t ready to leave the table yet.

“Tell him to wait a bit,” I said, waving a hand. “He can enjoy the spiritual tea garden or whatever while we finish.”

Xue Xin gave a small bow and left, footsteps like measured drumbeats down the hall.

I turned back to the others. Ren Jingyi was chewing thoughtfully again. Alice had gone back to sipping her coffee. Lu Gao was still a little pink in the face.

I took another bite of curry.

This right here... this quiet, messy, ridiculous table filled with weirdos and monsters and children pretending not to care... this was the closest thing I had to a family in this world. And I was going to miss them.

...

..

.

I met with Tao Long in the garden. The sun was low, bleeding orange across the sky, and the wind was just sharp enough to remind me we were near Riverfall’s cliffside, where cold air loved to bite through robes. Tao Long stood with his hands behind his back, still as a statue beneath the wisteria tree. He turned when I approached, inclining his head with that familiar, knightly grace of his.

“Thank you,” he said. “For the spear. It served me well. But I believe… It’s time I let it go.”

I blinked. “Let it go? You planning to give it back now?”

“I only borrowed it,” he replied. “And I always meant to return it once your goals were met.”

Right. I had loaned him the Dra-kon Mar back when I asked him to deliver Ren Jingyi to Jiang Zhen. He went above and beyond. Even stayed in Riverfall to slay devils.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head at him. “You’re a dragon of your word, Tao Long. You delivered Ren Jingyi like I asked. Helped clean up Riverfall’s demon mess. You’re a hero, whether or not you admit it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his eyes softened.

I continued, “Which means… you deserve a quest reward. That spear? It’s yours now.”

His eyes widened slightly before he gave a single, respectful bow. “Thank you. I will treasure it.”

Of course, he would. He was a dragon. Even if this world didn’t follow all the usual fantasy tropes, one thing remained true across every genre: dragons loved hoarding treasures.

I grinned. “So. We going?”

He straightened. “Yes. His Majesty and the rest are waiting in the sealed courtyard.”

I frowned. “He could’ve told me that with a Qi Speech. I’ve got that function turned on.”

Tao Long didn’t argue. He just looked politely amused.

“Lead the way,” I said. “I don’t know where it is.”

“We have a guide,” Tao Long said.

Old Song emerged from the path behind him, hands tucked behind his back, posture relaxed but alert. He wore travel robes this time, and moved like someone who still had a few decades left despite his apparent mortality.

“It’s barely been a year,” I said. “Thinking of you as dead might be a little premature.”

Old Song chuckled. “Death’s never been punctual, Lord Wei.”

I followed them down a shaded path, canopied by talewood trees. As we walked, I asked, “How’s the Adventurer’s Guild holding up?”

“Hard times,” Song admitted. “The Union’s breathing down our necks. They don’t like independents playing politics.”

“I am not even surprised.”

“They’ll manage,” said Song. ”We received an invitation to the World Summit, by the way.”

I turned my head. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said. “The World Summit isn’t just the big four. Vassals, countries, sects, merchant coalitions, even Beast Courts… everyone wants a say.”

“So you’re planning to join the Emperor’s retinue?”

“If you’ll have us,” Song said with a faint smile. “We’d rather not go in alone. And just to clarify, I wouldn’t be going. Just the Guild Master.”

I nodded slowly. That made sense. Not just tactically, but politically. Showing up with the Empire said something about allegiance or prestige… even if that allegiance was temporary.

“Sure,” I said. “You walk with us, you don’t get left behind. That’s the deal.”

Song grinned. “That’s all we ever ask.”

There was still daylight, so Yellow Dragon City hadn’t gone to sleep just yet. The streets pulsed with life: merchants yelling prices, kids running past with paper talismans fluttering behind them, and cultivators arguing over street food. I watched from the garden path as the city breathed, and I almost felt like I belonged.

Then I saw the beast carcasses being hauled in from the southern gate.

Huge things. Some still steaming, blood sizzling faintly against talismans meant to suppress miasma. A tusked panther the size of a wagon. A winged centipede impaled by six different spears. Tao Long followed my gaze.

“The devil worshippers used waves of demonic beasts during one phase of their assault,” he explained. “Hence the surplus.”

I nodded slowly. “So I’ve heard. The cores and materials’ll be salvaged to strengthen the city?”

He inclined his head. “Every piece counts. Especially now.”

He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t been idle either. The past week had been a blur of spellwork, terrain-hopping, and the occasional impromptu monster surgery. I’d slain more than a few of those beasts myself, as well as a few rogue cultivators with more ambition than sense.

I was about to walk past the scene when I saw her.

Lin Lim.

She was hauling part of a wyvern’s wing into a cart, sleeves rolled up, a sweat-stained cloth wrapped around her forehead. The once-leader of beggars and pilgrims, now working alongside butchers and cultivators. Her hair was tied back, and her staff rested by the cart like an afterthought.

I flashed forward with a single step.

Flash Step was fun when I wasn’t using it to kill people.

“Hey,” I said casually, stopping just beside her.

She didn’t flinch.

She turned her head toward me, those cloudy eyes somehow locking onto mine like she knew where I’d be.

“Young Master Da Wei?” she asked, tilting her head.

Before I could reply, Tao Long chimed in from behind me.

“It’s actually Lord Da Wei now,” he said with far too much dignity. “Named Lord of Riverfall by the Emperor himself. Functionally, the equivalent of a Duke in foreign lands.”

I groaned. “Not now, Tao Long.”

Lin Lim’s lips curled upward, just a little. “So formal, this friend of yours.”

“Yeah, he gets like that. Ignore him.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, brushing her hands on her robe. “Lord or not, you still sneak up on people the same way.”

“I didn’t sneak,” I muttered. “I just walked quickly.”

“You vanished and reappeared,” she said calmly as if she could see.

“…Fair.”

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of blood and cooked rice from nearby stalls. Lin Lim didn’t seem bothered. She turned toward the cart and resumed her work, muscles straining beneath her simple robes.

“You sure you want to be doing this kind of labor?” I asked. “Could’ve sworn you were more the inspiring-leader type.”

“I lead by example,” she said simply. “These beasts took lives. The least I can do is help clear them out.”

Tao Long nodded in approval behind me. “A noble spirit.”

“You and your nobility,” I muttered.

But I didn’t argue. Lin Lim didn’t need praise. She didn’t want pity. She just worked. And somehow, I respected her more for it. I stood there for a moment, watching the city, the dead beasts, the living people… and Lin Lim, blind but seeing everything.

Maybe I’d sneak her an extra talisman pack later. Just in case.