Immortal Paladin

I opened my eyes, still tethered to life. Despite the toll of Exalted Renewal, I hadn’t died. Not yet. My hand trembled, and I watched it with a quiet, growing detachment. The petrified blackened flesh crept along my skin like a bloom of corrupted veins, only to retreat just as swiftly, dissolving inward. It was like watching a curse try and fail to claim me, over and over again. I sighed, not in pain, but in resignation. Somewhere along the line, I had foolishly hoped that when Exalted Renewal ran out, when my experience points drained fully, I wouldn’t die. I thought I might simply revert to being mortal and live on as something simpler. But that was just another fantasy the world denied me. Even if I somehow reset to level one, I could feel it in my marrow… I would die all the same. And worse, if I died in the wrong way, I would drag the world back into the loop. That thought chilled me more than any blade.

Still seated, I exhaled slowly, my breath heavy with the weight of thoughts I couldn’t voice. What would tomorrow even look like, if I had one at all? There were no more plans. No more schemes. Just delay. Just duty. Just the slow, bitter waiting.

Tian En’s voice broke the silence, carrying both awe and uncertainty. “Are you truly an acquaintance of Shouquan, Lord Immortal?”

The way she said it made my skin crawl. Lord Immortal? I understood the reverence, but it still sat wrong in my chest. I looked at her and nodded. “Yes.”

Her brows furrowed. Her voice trembled just slightly, though whether it was from fear or suppressed anger, I couldn’t tell. “What is your motivation behind this massacre, Lord Immortal?”

It was a fair question any reasonable person would ask. I gave her the most honest answer I could. “Because it pisses me off.”

She blinked, unsure how to respond, but I didn’t stop. “The Cleanse. The cultivation world in general. The cycle. The hypocrisy. All of it.” My voice didn’t rise. I wasn’t ranting. I was just... tired.

She flinched when I mentioned the Cleanse, the way any good person would. She knew what it meant. I could see the knowledge flicker behind her eyes. Her lips pressed together, drawing a pale line across her face.

I continued, more to myself than to her. “I have no way to undo the agreements and the blood pacts these sects and powers cling to. And with the way things are going… I probably won’t be around long enough to make that kind of difference. But if I had the time and the means, I would fight for something better. Every step of the way.”

Tian En looked at me like I had just confessed to being human. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’m going to die,” I said. “And I need you to go.”

I gestured to the sleeping form of Yi Qiu, slumped in a cratered seat, and to the lifeless Shan Dian, who lay on the table as if only dozing. “Take them with you. The Alliance Master and the Union Warlord. Give Shan Dian a proper burial while you’re at it.”

“Also,” I turned to the sleeping Zai Ai. “Don’t forget about her…”

Tian En nodded after a pause, solemn and focused. She raised her hand and gently opened a pocket dimension, storing both bodies with the reverence of someone performing sacred rites. She didn’t ask why. She didn’t object.

“One more thing,” I said. “Evacuate the people of this city. I can’t leave this place… and I fear a fight is coming. A bad one. With a very real, very dangerous Outsider.”

I didn’t explain the loop. Or the trap. Or the way this place had become my cage, anchored by some metaphysical cruelty I couldn’t outwit. There were things she didn’t need to know… things that would only get in her way.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I should be able to accommodate the whole city in my pocket domain. It will take some effort, but I can do it.”

“Don’t stash the entire city to you pocket, okay? Just evacuate the people…”

I handed her a Scroll of Great Teleportation, explaining how it worked, how she could use it to escape as far as possible once she was done.

“Now, go.”

Tian En gave me one last look, full of questions and unfinished thoughts, then vanished, leaving behind only silence and the whisper of displaced air.

I turned at last to Tao Long. He was still kneeling, shoulders heaving, eyes red and wet as he stared at the slaughter I had left behind. His robes were smeared with ash and blood… not his own… and though none of the gore touched him directly, it clung to him like guilt. When his eyes met mine, he stood. Shaking. Furious.

”You monster,” he said, voice cracking from emotion. ”What was the purpose of this?! What did you do, Da Wei? What was the point of this cruelty?”

”They had to die,” I said. I let my words weigh heavily between us. ”They were bad people.”

Tao Long’s mouth opened in disbelief, his rage seething. But I continued before he could interrupt again.

”I know they were bad. Not just because of what they did to me… or others… but because I lived through their memories. Every damned one of them. I watched what they did. I felt what they felt. I understood their pain, even their humanity. I know their reasons, Tao Long, and I still chose this. Why? Understanding their stories didn’t make me forgive their crimes. It just made me sympathetic to their lives. It didn’t make them better. That’s why I can tell myself, this has to be done.”

Tao Long shook his head, tears flinging off his jaw. “You are an Outsider. Truly, to your bone. To think… I believed you might help this world. I thought you might save something… but look!” He threw his arm toward the ruined chamber, to the bodies that still hadn’t cooled. “Look at what you’ve done!”

Of course, he didn’t understand. How could he? From his point of view, I had broken every oath I made to him and to his Supreme Leader. I said I’d cooperate with the Ward. I said I would attend the Summit with hopes of a peaceful resolution. I even thought of the opportunity of reformation. I said I would listen. And then I walked into the Summit Hall, possessed a seemingly insignificant cultivator, and started slaughtering people. It must have looked like madness.

“Shut it, you genocidal dragon,” I snapped, not caring how much venom I let slip. “I know about the Cleanse. I know about the genocide. I know you were there. Nongmin had been there. You were part of it.”

His eyes widened. The accusation hit harder than any blade.

I kept going, pushing my voice louder and harsher. “Let them think twice. Let them fear what happens when they play gods again. Let them hesitate the next time they try another Cleanse. But you and I both know how these big powers work. They won’t hesitate. They never do. I killed them because they were people the world would be better without. Like I told Tian En, I’m pissed. I’m sick of the cycle, the silence, the compromise. If my actions plant fear where there was once arrogance, then it was worth it.”

But Tao Long wouldn’t listen. “Lies,” he growled, fists trembling. “Supreme Leader of Ward, Master Shouquan, reveal yourself! This Outsider needs to be punished!”

His voice echoed into the void, but nothing answered.

“I don’t think so,” I said softly. “Shouquan is gone. And not just missing. I fear it’s not as simple as him fleeing or hiding. Something happened. And now neither of us can guard the Arch Gate.”

That realization hit him like thunder. His chest rose and fell, his eyes darting between the cracked floor and the hollow silence around us. I saw the weight settle on him in real time. He understood.

I stood up. My knees ached. My body still bore the weight of Exalted Renewal and the aftershocks of divine backlash, but I moved anyway. I walked to him and pulled several folded sheets of parchment from my Item Box. Carefully, deliberately, I placed them into his hands.

“They’re letters,” I told him. “One for Ren Jingyi. One for Gu Jie. One for Lu Gao. One for Ren Xun. And one for Hei Mao.”

I didn’t hand him the one I wrote for Hei Mao. That one I kept in the insides of my robe, close to my heart.

“I wrote these a while back,” I continued, my voice lowering. “On the way to the Imperial Capital. I thought… maybe… I’d leave this world one day. Maybe go home. I just wanted the people I cared about to have something to remember me by. Something simple. Something real.”

I paused. My throat tightened a little.

“I never got to write one for Nongmin or Alice. I… didn’t know what to say to either of them. Not yet.”

Tao Long clutched the letters in his hand, unsure what to make of them. I reached out and gripped his shoulder.

“Tell Nongmin… fuck him. But I love him.” I smirked. “And tell Alice… if I could, I’d fuck her. Then love her.”

Tao Long let out a long sigh, not dignifying my crude humor with a scolding. I appreciated that.

“Hard to pack emotion in just a few words,” I muttered, shrugging. “And we’re not exactly rich on time.”

I stepped back. The weight of everything loomed over us like a stormcloud.

“Now go,” I told him.

He hesitated. Still conflicted. Still not ready to leave me behind.

“I said go!” I barked.

That did it.

With a rumble and a crack, Tao Long’s form shimmered, his body shifting and stretching until the proud, hulking dragon burst through the ceiling in a whirl of storms and lightning. He didn’t look back.

“Farewell, Tao Long…”

It was funny how this was the second time Tao Long was playing ‘errand boy’ for me.

I slumped back into my seat, the blood still drying on my clothes, the stink of ozone and divine steel still hanging in the air. All the bodies had long since fallen. A few twitched, but that was just nerves misfiring… nothing remained in them. I let out a long breath and cast my Divine Sense outward like a wave.

Silence.

Not a life stirred in the entire city. Tian En had finished the evacuation. Even Tao Long’s presence was gone. A small part of me hoped I’d never see him again, just so he wouldn’t have to bear witness to what was coming. Another part of me… honestly, it wished I’d just die right here.

Maybe if I died, there’d be nothing left for Aixin to collect. No body. No soul. Nothing to pull into her machine. Or maybe, just maybe, if I died here, I’d wake up. In a hospital bed. Or on a couch in my apartment. Maybe I’d hear a knock at the door and find mom back from getting groceries, scolding me for playing games too long and having to leave the province to take care of me.

But… I didn’t believe in miracles anymore.

From the edges of my Divine Sense, I began to feel them. Angels.

The same kind that haunted the Promised Dunes… the porcelain-faced, asymmetrical things with limbs too long, too sharp, too many joints in the wrong places. They didn’t speak. They never did. Just radiated that sterile dread, like a hospital ward where every patient is already dead and just doesn’t know it yet.

I opened my eyes.

A shadow coalesced in front of me. Not a shadow of darkness, but of divine light. When the form finished forming, I saw her. Joan… or rather, Aixin wearing Joan.

She stepped forward with a smile like nothing was wrong. Her emerald eyes curved slightly, giving the illusion they were smiling too, though they held no joy… just cold recognition. Her raiment was silver layered in gold, trimmed not for function but for allure. Not quite Joan’s gear. This was something else entirely.

“Really?” I stood up and dusted myself off. “You dress up in my friend’s body and choose that outfit? Who are you trying to impress? Your boss? Your reflection?”

“You’ve got a mouth,” Aixin said, her voice Joan’s, but… wrong. Too smooth. Not enough bite.

A halo spun lazily above her head… an amalgam of shifting lights, each representing something alien. A moment later, she summoned her staff, materializing it from thin air. Its head was a massive feather, and floating around it were hundreds of motes… stars? Memories? I couldn’t tell.

“So, enlighten me,” I said, drawing Silver Steel from my Item Box. “The timeloop thing. How’d you pull it off? That was some pretty fucked-up Chronomancy.”

She didn’t bother to answer. Of course, she didn’t. Gods don’t explain themselves to mortals… especially not an ‘Anomaly’ like me.

She raised her staff.

From nothing, golden swords appeared in the air. Not metaphors. Not illusions. These were divine constructs…each one pulsing with the power of Heavenly Punishment. I recognized the power behind them. If one touched me, I wouldn’t survive. Not unless I was already dying on purpose and redirecting the blow.

My usual tactics wouldn’t save me here. No stabbing myself to bait divine reflect damage. Not this time.

I mentally counted my resources. Two Spell Slots left. Three, if I pushed the Wandering Adjudicator’s armor to cast through its innate ability. What else? Ah… I slotted Divine Word: Raise as a backup to my Spell Resonance… my contingency, just in case I needed to revive myself or someone else.

The swords launched.

I cast Castling instinctively, and tried to swap with Aixin’s location. But it fizzled. She blocked it. Of course she did. Fine. I reached into her through the very connection that allowed me to see Joan.

”Divine Possession.”

My vision fractured, bent, and realigned. The next thing I knew, I was somewhere else… inside Joan’s memory world. I closed my eyes, focusing on myself. When I opened my eyes, I stood in Losten. It was the last bastion of mortal civilization in the face of the Great Enemy.

It was a memory, sure, but not a flat one. With our combined perception stats: mine, Joan’s, and Aixin’s… we could stretch time into ribbons here. A day outside might be a century within. But I didn’t waste time.

My body was still outside, and very vulnerable. I needed to make use of the time inside this space.

I summoned Soulful Guiding Fire.

A butterfly of green flame bloomed into existence and fluttered ahead. Its wings shimmered like glass lit from within, each beat revealing glimpses of memories I couldn’t quite catch. I followed.

Losten was a ghost town.

No voices. No people. Just rubble and dust and collapsed bastions where knights once stood. This wasn’t how I remembered Losten. This wasn’t Joan’s memory, I realized.

Then I saw her.

Joan.

Not Aixin. Just Joan.

She was walking ahead of me, in full robes, and eyes forward.

“Joan!” I called out and ran toward her, closing the distance fast.

I scanned her with Divine Sense.

And froze.

Her body was fine. Her soul was... there. But wrong.

There was no spark in her eyes. No fire. No awareness.

It was like looking at an NPC from a game before the player touches the keyboard. She had no soul of her own. No will.

She was just running a script.

Like a marionette waiting for someone to pull the strings.