Immortal Paladin

It was rather austere, wasn’t it? The hallway stretched forward in solemn silence. Every tile beneath my feet was polished to a sterile sheen. Every torchlight flickered as though rehearsed to move in sync with the world. The color of the flame on the torches were even different... it was purple. So tacky.

As if the torches were really needed, considering the daylight.

The architecture here lacked warmth… built not for comfort, but for grandeur. The corridor narrowed slightly before reaching the great twin doors, both carved with the seal of the Martial Alliance. Two men stood sentinel on either side, tall and unmoving, their uniforms unmistakable in their deep indigo, with silver linings tracing the martial sigils of their order. The moment they caught sight of me, their posture straightened like blades being drawn.

“State your affiliation and your proof of presence,” they barked in unison, their voices trained, hollowed of inflection, and timed like a ritual. “This is the Hall of Honored Assembly, seat of the Summit. Without approval, step no further.”

Tao Long stood calmly at my side, his arms crossed. He looked almost bored, despite the situation. His armor shimmered faintly under the light, catching the glow in a thousand tiny scales. The aesthetic was unmistakable… no sane man could’ve missed the dragon motif. Not to mention, his very obvious cultivation.

“As per the orders of the Supreme Leader of Ward,” Tao Long said, his voice calm but edged as he turned to me, “I now serve as your second. I believe you have no problem with me tagging along, Lord Wei.”

He glanced at the guards, who remained oblivious of what was about to happen.

I gave a half-shrug, more amused than anything. “It’s fine, I guess. Seems like everyone gets a plus one anyway,” I muttered. “Just don’t die on me out there. That would be a damn shame.”

”You jest, Lord Wei... I am not so fragile after all.”

The guards didn’t like being ignored. One of them stepped forward, his aura swelling as his Qi stirred the air like hot wind. “You arrive late, show no respect, and think to saunter in with no explanation?” he snapped, his brows drawing down as his temper rose. “You mistake this place for a market stall, outsider. Go back to wherever you crawled from. The world has no need for arrogant nobodies.”

Both of them were in the Eighth Realm. Not weak by any standard… just unfortunate enough to be standing in my way and used as an example. I exhaled slowly, shaking off the weariness that had settled in my shoulders from the long walk.

“Fine,” I said, “You want credentials? Let’s make this official.”

I didn’t bother reaching for paper or seals. I raised my voice instead, not yelling, but projecting with practiced control as I performed a Lion’s Roar. It was raw mana shaped into a declaration… sound turned into a weapon. At the same time, I layered my Voice Chat ability into it, giving the words structure and force, meaning carried on resonance. The corridor rippled with my will.

“This is Da Wei,” I began, letting the syllables boom with a supernatural cadence. “Great Guard. Lord of Riverfall. Wielder of the Divine Power. Slayer of the Abyss. He Who Defeated the Hell’s Gate. Honored Friend of His Heavenly Majesty, the Final Emperor. Guardian of the Arch Gate. Wandering Adjudicator. Open thy gates…” I let the silence stretch a beat. “…Lest you invite my fury.”

It wasn’t just sound. It was pressure. Reality folded slightly around the syllables. The guards staggered as if struck by invisible hammers. One dropped to a knee instantly. The other managed to remain standing for half a breath before blood started trailing down from his nostrils and ears. His knees hit the floor with a thud that echoed down the stone hall.

Well, that worked better than expected.

Tao Long let out a disgusted snort. “Such fragile foundations,” he said. “You disgrace the Eighth Realm! How do you expect to guard a Summit if a mere voice can make you bleed?”

I clicked my tongue and waved my hand. A pulse of healing magic flared out… “Cure,” I unleashed a healing spell casually, yet precise enough to seal their ruptured vessels and ease the ringing in their skulls. “No need to kill the welcome party,” I muttered. “They’re just doing their jobs. Badly.”

Before I could step forward, Tao Long moved. He strode past me with a knight’s grace, his aura unfolding like silk torn from the heavens. A mirage shimmered behind him… a serpentine dragon made of translucent blue flame and lightning, its eyes glowing with calm contempt. He placed his hands on the gates and pushed.

Not opened. Pushed!

The stone doors didn’t creak. Instead, they thundered as they flew inward, slamming against the inner walls with enough force to send a tremor through the floor. Dust drifted down from the arch above. Several acolytes inside the chamber leapt in surprise.

I stared at the aftermath and sighed inwardly. ‘Uuuh… calm down, please?’ Of course, I didn’t say that out loud. I appreciated him having my back, but this might be more embarrassing than I bargained for.

Tao Long turned slightly, offering me a small, crooked grin. “Subtlety is for those who lack credentials,” he said. “Please, Lord Wei, make your entrance.”

I stepped past the groaning guards, shaking my head.

Murmurs swirled around me the moment I stepped into the chamber, the kind of low, uneasy current that tugged at the edges of attention but never fully rose to open confrontation. Their eyes followed me… curious, wary, and contemptuous. I didn’t need to turn to know who glared and who whispered. Some looked at me like I was a curiosity. Others like I was a pest. But the ones who knew… well, they knew. I caught the edges of their hushed voices recounting my feats like gossip dressed in reverence… how I’d stood against the Abyss, broken Hell’s Gate, and walked away alive.

I had no illusions. Word of my actions had spread. Liang Na’s loose tongue probably played no small part in that, spinning stories while pretending to downplay them. But even without her flair and meddling, it would have come out. The sovereign powers assembled here didn’t just rely on rumor. Their information networks rivaled even the most powerful nations. If even half of what I’d done had made it to their ears, I’d already be catalogued, evaluated, and ranked on someone’s parchment.

“Heyah~ guys… Let’s calm down a bit. I know. I know. Not really my friendliest entrance, but hey, someone here gets to represent the Empire.”

The room was nothing like the outer hall. Where the entrance had been cold and stoic, this chamber was alive with gravitas. Under a vast dome ceiling, light filtered in from high crystal apertures, casting a diffused glow upon polished stone. Seats were arranged in a sweeping circle… four great thrones carved of distinct materials anchoring the center like celestial bodies, surrounded by rings of lesser seats. It felt somewhere between an imperial courtroom, an old university lecture hall, and a battlefield waiting for its moment to erupt.

Three of the great seats were occupied.

To the left sat Yi Qiu, wrapped in robes so red they shimmered with undertones of blood, a subtle halo of pressure surrounding him like coiled mist. Beside him, Tian En stood straight-backed in a white qipao, her gaze sharp enough to cut through marble. And to the right, a woman I had never met but recognized from Nongmin’s vision, Shan Dian, watched the gathering with a hawk’s stillness. The seat reserved for the Grand Ascension Empire remained empty, as expected.

Behind each of the three powerhouses stood guards or attendants, all projecting strength at the threshold of the Tenth Realm, barely staying in the Ninth Realm. Their cultivation was in the same realm as Tao Long’s. No wonder everyone brought a second… it was the minimum for survival in a room like this.

“Wowzer, so tense.”

I walked calmly to the center, letting their whispers and tension wrap around me. A hooded woman with purple trim on her cloak stepped from the shadows near Shan Dian’s seat, her movements precise and deliberate. It was Shan Dian’s second. She approached with a stare that held both scrutiny and veiled recognition. There was a flicker of something in her eyes when they landed on Tao Long.

“And who might you be?” she asked, tone polite but dismissive, as if she already knew the answer and was waiting for me to trip over it. ”Someone acting so flippant dares walk these halls and claim the Ascension Empire’s seat? The arrogance!”

Without hesitation, I reached into my Item Box and pulled out the Imperial Seal. Its golden hue caught the overhead light, and the imperial sigil shimmered as I held it high.

“I represent the Heavenly Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire,” I said. My voice carried, steady but not loud. Just clear enough that no one could pretend they didn’t hear it.

Before the murmurs could rise again, Tao Long stepped forward, his voice crackling with Lightning Qi that shimmered along the edges of his words. “And as per decree of the Supreme Leader of Ward,” he announced, “Da Wei stands here also as the Guardian of the Arch.”

At that, the room shifted. Not physically, but in tone. The name ‘Ward’ meant nothing to most of them, but it meant something to a few. Yi Qiu’s fingers twitched slightly. Tian En narrowed her gaze. The rest of the room buzzed softly, trying to parse the name… Ward? A new faction? An old one? A threat?

Tian En stood abruptly, her voice sharp and cutting through the uncertainty. “Yet I do not know this man,” she declared. “What proof do you have to prove such an outlandish claim? What right brings you into this chamber, bearing seals and strange titles?”

Tao Long shifted slightly, the beginning of a retort forming in his throat, but I raised a hand without looking at him. I had this.

“I’ve seen the Arch,” I said. “And I know what it can do.”

“That’s not enough,” Tian En snapped. Her tone didn’t waver, but I could sense the current beneath; her suspicion wasn’t without merit. She wasn’t just defending her position. She was guarding something more personal.

I nodded slowly. “Then how about this?” I said. “I know that the Supreme Leader of Ward was once your master. Shouquan, the old man in white. If you want proof, how about you hear it from his mouth?”

I waited half a beat, and when nothing happened, I sighed dramatically, throwing my arms up.

“Fine!” I shouted. “Shouquan! If you don’t show up right now and vouch for me, I swear to all the Heavens above, I’ll kidnap your daughter and make her serve in the convent! Daily prayer, plain rice, and vow of silence!”

The room didn’t gasp. It stopped, like someone had sucked all the air out.

Tao Long let out a cough. Whether he was trying to stifle a laugh or a groan, I couldn’t tell.

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he said. Then added, with exaggerated diplomacy, “No… quite crass, Lord Wei?”

I gave him a sideways glance, then shrugged. “It worked last time.” I meant, when I threatened Nongmin’s mother with a pole dance, he did appear. I’d say sending someone to the convent was pretty mild.

From somewhere above, reality stirred.

He appeared in a shimmer, folding out from space itself like light refracted through a tear in a mirror. Shouquan, in pristine white robes, with a gaze colder than fresh snow and a mouth twisted into the exact kind of frown an old man wears when his nap is interrupted by children arguing.

“I told you not to call me like this,” he muttered under his breath. “I… warned you a few seconds ago, not to involve me, didn’t I?”

I smiled. “Just trust me on this one, you old codger. It’s the result that matters, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t leave either.

That was a win.

Tian En stared at him with a strange, subdued longing. Her shoulders tensed slightly, lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. She just stared. I remembered that look. I’d seen it before… not in this life, but in one of his memories, shown to me briefly during our Divine Possession.

It had been subtle, maybe even accidental, but it was there.

The way she looked at him when he wasn’t watching. The way her soul trembled when he praised her. That impossible blend of reverence, hunger, and restraint. She’d loved him once. Maybe still did.

And he… he’d buried it. Locked it away beneath layers of principle and power, as if it could be dismissed with enough meditation or drowned out by quintessence. But it was real.

I had felt it. Not just seen it. I knew it.

And I was going to use it.

Tao Long’s voice whispered beside my ear with his Qi Speech, flickering through the current of my Qi, ‘What are you doing, Lord Wei?’

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

I needed the goddamn votes!

And Shouquan’s presence should make Tian En more amiable.

I turned and walked across the floor, boots clicking against the polished stone. Eyes tracked my every step as I approached the crimson-robed colossus sitting under one of the three occupied thrones.

Yi Qiu.

His throne was carved of volcanic glass and cooled bloodwood. The man himself looked like he was born to lead barbarian legions and charm fox-spirits in the same afternoon. His red hair spread like a lion’s mane, and his eyes watched me with open amusement.

“I’m going to raise an issue,” I told him flatly. “Push a law behind it. Then propose a full reformation.”

He tilted his head, expression unchanging. “And?”

“And you’re going to vote yes.”

He blinked at me slowly, then leaned forward. “And what made you think I would say yes?”

I looked at him for a moment, then let the grin curl out. “Because you look like the kind of guy who decides things after an arm-wrestling match.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“But,” I continued, “that sounds too boring for someone like you. How about something better? Three strikes.”

That got his attention.

Yi Qiu stood up with a laugh that echoed through the chamber, broad shoulders rolling like tectonic plates. He was huge. A full head taller than me, and broader than even Zhu Shin. His movements weren’t just strong… they were ‘old’ strong. The kind that came from a life of carrying war on your back and making it look like a celebration.

“Three strikes?” he growled, stepping down toward me. “And who’s doing the striking?”

“You, of course,” I replied without hesitation.

He frowned, confused. “You want me to hit you?”

I shook my head and snarled right back. “No, I mean I can’t hit you. You’re too fragile.”

Yi Qiu burst out laughing again, this time louder, sharp enough to make even his own guard flinch.

“Fragile, huh?” he repeated. “You’ve got a tongue on you.”

“I’ve got more than that,” I said. “I’ve got a plan. So, how about it? Three strikes. If I can take them, you vote yes.”

He grinned wide enough to show teeth like carved obsidian. “And if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll still be more interesting than the last ten idiots who begged for your support.”

Yi Qiu cracked his neck, then raised a fist bigger than my entire head. “One strike, coming up.”

”This will also be more interesting than several civilizations you trampled upon the Cleanse.” My words made him flinch, though he hid it well. I closed my eyes and then prayed in my heart and through my mouth. “Please don’t die on me, you neanderthal, because I would hate to waste a resurrection on you.”

Also, fuck the Summit.