Immortal Paladin

Chen Enlai – Several Hours Before the Invasion

No one in New Willow truly knew what they were preparing for. There were whispers, rumors, and predictions, but none of them quite captured the full truth of what was to come. Still, preparations continued with a grim determination. The blacksmith’s hammer never ceased ringing through the village square. Gunpowder production filled the air with its choking bite, and strange mechanisms of Da Wei’s design were stacked along walls and under tarps. Drills occurred almost daily… movements were rehearsed, positions were marked, and protocols were memorized. Despite all this, the villagers trained not with certainty but with the uneasy tension of people waiting for a storm they could not yet see.

Amidst the tension, voices mingled from all corners of the village. Old settlers, their eyes lined with the experience of years, muttered under their breath by the communal fires. “Not a beast sighted in weeks,” one grumbled, eyes scanning the frost-bitten treeline. “Too quiet, too soon. That boy Da Wei must’ve sensed something.” Others, newly arrived refugees from the empire’s collapse, shook their heads at the strange peace. “The beasts don’t roam in early winter,” a young woman insisted, cradling a rifle like a child. “I hope he knows what he is doing.”

“I heard he fought five hundred men once,” one boy whispered to his friend. “Cut their general clean in half.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his friend hissed back. “He builds guns, not tells stories or cuts generals.”

”Are you saying I am a liar?”

Chen Enlai stood in the middle of it all, feeling both part of and apart from the murmuring world. He was with Da Ji when the bell rang. Its deep, sonorous chime echoed like a war drum across the village, silencing speculation with certainty. No one asked what it meant; they already knew. Da Ji glanced at him once, offered a nod, and then turned to dash toward the southern wall. She didn’t look back.

Enlai turned to head for the eastern wall, only to be intercepted by a familiar voice. “You heading to the southern wall too?” Da Jin’s casual tone betrayed none of the urgency in the air.

“Uncle Jin?” Enlai frowned, slowing down. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t the Chief Warrior be worried you’re throwing yourself into this? That bell means war!”

Da Jin chuckled and smacked the back of Enlai’s head with rough affection. “Just because my son’s the general doesn’t mean his old man isn’t allowed to join the fun. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t put my training to use?” He tapped the rifle slung across his back. “It’d be a shame to let this baby gather dust after all the time I spent learning how to use it.”

Exasperated but unable to argue, Enlai fell into step beside him. Together they reached the eastern wall, where a dozen other figures stood in rows, some grim-faced, and others clearly trying not to show their nerves. Ding Shan stood in front of them, arms crossed, his bronze-plated armor marked with the insignia of the 112th. He scanned the group with a seasoned soldier’s eye.

“Chen Enlai. Da Jin,” he barked, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think you’ll get any soft treatment just because you’re family. I was your boy’s commanding officer before you ever were his kin. Out here, I don’t care whose blood you share or if he’s your childhood friend or whatever. You’ll obey my orders or you’ll answer to me directly.”

Chen Enlai saluted automatically, his posture straightening beneath Ding Shan’s intense scrutiny. He felt miffed for being referred to a childhood friend, because of the simple reason that he wasn’t such a person. Da Jin gave a wide grin and a mock salute, clearly unbothered.

“Understood, sir,” Enlai answered.

Ding Shan nodded. “Then take your positions. The enemy will be here before you can finish your last breath. And remember… don’t fire until I give the order. We won’t waste bullets on shadows.”

Chen Enlai and Da Jin ducked into the inner walkways of the eastern wall, propping their rifles through the narrow slits carved into the stone and reinforced wood. The slits were small, designed to give the shooter a clean shot while minimizing their exposure. Enlai could already feel the chill of metal against his cheek as he steadied his breath and scanned the treeline for motion.

The war began with a sound like tearing cloth… hundreds of creatures crawling, lurching, or gliding through the mist, their forms both alien and obscene. Some moved like wolves with bloated limbs and no eyes; others slithered on bellies lined with necrotic spines. They came in a tide, limbs scraping against bark and stone, their eyes burning with a dim violet glow.

It wasn’t the beasts’ ferocity that unnerved Enlai. It was their silence. They didn’t howl, didn’t snarl… just charged with the grim inevitability of a flood, tireless and unthinking. He shot the first one through the eye, its skull bursting apart with a wet pop. The others didn’t falter.

Da Jin beside him let out a bark of laughter as he shot two more, reloading with practiced speed. “Guess my son was right to keep us armed to the teeth!”

Chen Enlai didn’t answer.

The fight continued, stretching for minutes that tasted like hours.

From above, a glass arched and shattered against a cluster of beasts, and in the next instant, flames leaped up, the alcohol-fueled Dragon’s Fire igniting them like kindling. The smell of burning rot filled the air.

For a while, it felt like they were holding. They kept the pressure up… shooting, throwing more Dragon’s Fire, and when the enemy managed to climb the walls or squeeze through cracks, they slashed them down with bayonets and sidearms. The demonic beasts didn’t die easily. Many kept moving even after their limbs were severed, crawling on blackened stumps. The gunpowder slowed them as fire maimed them, but only decapitation or total destruction seemed to end them for good.

Then one broke through.

A blazing feline-shaped monster no larger than a hound darted through a gap, its fur alight with black flames. It leaped on the soldier beside Enlai and tore him open with one swipe. Blood splattered against Enlai’s cheek, and the burning beast turned toward him. He didn’t think. He rolled beneath its pounce, jammed the muzzle of his rifle against its ribs, and fired. It spasmed, screeched, and exploded into ash… but not before Enlai’s arm was scorched from the heat.

Before he could even curse, another threat emerged… this time a bloated loach that wriggled through the same breach. It launched itself at another soldier, merged with his chest, and twisted his limbs into a grotesque mockery of life. The controlled soldier turned on his comrades, flailing wildly with unnatural strength. 

”Hey, what are you doing?”

”Don’t come near me!”

”Shit, he’d gone nuts.”

Da Jin rushed forward and ran him through with a bayonet. The boy died with a look of confused horror still frozen on his face.

“Damn it,” Da Jin muttered. “They’re using the dead against us now.”

Enlai could only nod, breath ragged, muscles shaking. They held their position for minutes more, time stretched into agonizing eternities as they fought to contain the spreading chaos. Then the bell rang again, this time three short tolls followed by a longer, dragging one. It was the order for retreat.

Ding Shan’s voice roared from the parapet. “Fall back! Evacuate! Cover our wounded!”

Enlai frowned. Retreat? Already? They had supplies and defenses… They could last a siege for weeks if not months. He turned, hoping for answers, and saw Ding Shan pointing down the wall.

“Chen Enlai! Follow closely… support the evac teams! We’re pulling back to the center!”

Da Jin stepped forward immediately. “Then I’m coming too.”

Ding Shan cut him off with a glare. “I’d rather die than let the father of the man who saved my life toss his own away here. Get back to the center, Da Jin. That’s an order.”

The older man grumbled, face twitching with frustration. But in the end, he relented with a nod and clapped Enlai on the shoulder. “Don’t let them take your head, boy. I expect dinner after this.”

Enlai joined the remnants of Ding Shan’s unit as they peeled away from the wall. They moved quickly through the alleys and courtyards of New Willow, helping wounded soldiers retreat and covering the passage of civilians. The idea was to form a defensive cordon around the evacuation site and slow the enemy’s advance with a retreating offense… inflict as much damage as they could while ensuring no one was left behind.

At the heart of the village, dominating the central plaza, rose the strangest structure Enlai had ever seen… a levitating platform, five layers thick, floating just a foot above a vast metal ring embedded in the stone. Pipes, gears, and rotating discs buzzed and whirred beneath its foundation. It was designed to carry thousands of people and supplies alike! It was Da Wei’s last resort, their lifeboat in the storm, a wonder of engineering and cultivation both; it was rivaled in mystery only by the infamous self-flushing latrine Da Wei had once installed beside his house.

Enlai didn’t understand how it worked. He wasn’t sure anyone but Da Wei did. But right now, that strange platform was the only hope they had. And Chen Enlai would make sure as many people got on it as possible… even if it meant burning through every last bullet in his satchel.

Smoke clung to the rooftops of New Willow like a shroud, trailing toward the reddened sky as the war crept forward. Gunfire cracked in bursts, then faded behind the howling of beasts. Strategist Wen Yuhan’s voice echoed across the courtyard through transmission talismans affixed to each unit captain.

“All evacuation teams, shift to the secondary perimeter. Prioritize the wounded. Ding Shan’s unit will reinforce the southern breach. Repeat: southern breach.”

Chen Enlai tensed. He recognized the gravity in Wen Yuhan’s tone.

“Let’s move!” Ding Shan shouted, voice raw from barking orders. “Stick to cover. Fire in volleys. Do not break formation unless ordered!”

Enlai ran behind the line, boots pounding against the stone-paved street, the din of battle sharpening with every step. Ash rained like sleet. When they emerged into the open southern plaza, the world became a battlefield of light and ruin.

The southern wall had partially collapsed, a thirty-foot section torn open by force or erosion, Enlai couldn’t tell which. But what he could see and what transfixed him was Da Ji standing alone in the breach.

Her twin pistols glinted under the haze, held steady in hands that never shook. She moved like a dancer, pirouetting through smoke, her shots precise, her footing sure. But it wasn’t just the guns. Strange frost bloomed beneath her feet, spreading like white veins through the cracked earth. Illusions flickered around her… false images of herself running parallel to her body, drawing fire and misleading the enemy. A creature lunged at one copy only to pass through it and receive a shot to the skull from the real Da Ji a breath later.

Chen Enlai’s jaw slackened. She had always been competent, but this… this was sorcery layered with martial skill, blended into something that resembled grace and carnage both. She wasn’t just stalling the tide. Instead, she was beating it back!

Ding Shan cursed. “We’re too late for a full formation. Fan out and give her cover!”

Chen Enlai didn’t need to be told twice. He dashed into a flanking position, crouching behind a shattered ox-cart, sighting a ghoulish beast that crawled along the rubble toward Da Ji’s left. He fired once, then twice… shots exploding through rotted sinew, sending it crumpling in a heap.

“Da Ji!” he called out. “Fall back! Reinforcements are here!”

She didn’t even glance back. “Then keep up, slowpoke!”

Enlai chuckled despite himself and reloaded.

Frost rippled from her heels as she advanced a step. Every time the enemy tried to overwhelm her, another illusion sprang up, throwing off their rhythm. Her guns never jammed, never faltered, each cylinder reloaded like the spin of a windmill. She moved with a confidence that no longer felt brash… only earned.

He saw her reload mid-dodge, vault over a carapaced beast, and fire point-blank into its skull. It twitched, screamed, and died with a shudder.

A shriek came from behind. A four-legged creature with rows of serrated teeth bounded over the rubble, heading for her exposed right flank.

“On your six!” Enlai shouted and rushed from cover. He didn’t think, didn’t plan. He just moved.

He slammed his shoulder into the beast, toppling it, then drove his bayonet into the crook of its jaw. Black blood hissed against his gloves, steaming on contact. The thing screamed and kicked violently, and he gritted his teeth, twisting the blade until the creature’s spine snapped.

Da Ji turned only now, eyes briefly wide. “Chen Enlai…”

“I said fall back!” he snapped, panting. “That wasn’t a request!”

Her grin returned in full force. “You’d make a lousy commander.”

He didn’t have time to reply. Another wave surged through the breach… this time faster and more erratic. A trio of shrieking avian-like demons swept overhead, dropping what looked like bone shards from their claws. The ground exploded in bursts. One soldier screamed, his leg shredded by the blast.

“Cover fire!” Ding Shan shouted from the ridge. “Suppress and push forward! We can’t let them overrun the evac platform!”

The tide of monsters pressed harder. The breach widened as more stones fell. Illusions danced, ice spread, bullets flew… but it was clear Da Ji was tiring. Her breath steamed from her lips in short bursts. Her pistols clicked dry and she barely managed to reload before another beast charged.

Enlai stepped beside her, back to back now. “You’re not alone anymore. Hold the line.”

“Don’t slow me down,” she muttered, and he laughed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Together, they fired, their bullets crossing paths in midair. The eastern evac line was retreating, one wave at a time, toward the market square. Every second they held this line meant another family could board that floating platform. Every monster they dropped was one less nightmare haunting the next wave of defenders.

They were doing well, but good things must all come to an end.

The world had collapsed into fire and noise. All around Chen Enlai, the air screamed with the hiss of hot iron and the roar of monstrous voices. Smoke twisted through the ruins of New Willow, turning dawn into a feverish amber. He fired his rifle again, another abomination of bloated sinew and bone falling in a spurt of steaming ichor. He pivoted, but the breach had swallowed the others. His unit had scattered, and Da Ji was nowhere in sight.

“Damn it…” he muttered, back pressed to the charred remains of a fruit stall.

He ducked just in time as a black talon ripped through the air above him. The beast shrieked and lunged again, but Chen Enlai was faster, pulling an improvised grenade from his belt and jamming it into the monster’s open maw. It exploded in a wet burst, coating the wall in pulped flesh and scorched bone.

That was too close.

His breathing was ragged. His vision swam. There were no allies in sight… only shadows and ruin. For the first time since the bell rang, fear began to crawl up his spine.

Then, like the voice of a deity whispering through the storm, Strategist Wen Yuhan’s calm, sharp tone rang through his comm-bead.

“Chen Enlai. Listen. Seventeen paces back, then left. A hidden alley.”

He blinked, panting. “W-what?”

“I’m guiding you. Go. Now.”

There was no time to hesitate. He obeyed.

He stumbled past the ruined cart, slipped between two smoldering buildings, and pushed through the tight alley she described. The noise dimmed behind him. Only then did he see her… Wen Yuhan herself, standing in the shadows like she had been waiting for him all along.

Her robes, though ash-streaked, were immaculate. Her face was unreadable. Her long black hair was tied tightly behind her head. Her eyes were sharp as obsidian, studying him like a scholar appraising a curious insect.

“So,” she said with a faint, amused smile. “I finally have you alone. Do you know how hard that is with Da Wei breathing down my neck?”

Chen Enlai froze. His hands instinctively tightened around his rifle.

“What… What are you doing here?” His tone wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t welcoming either. “The village is under attack. You pulled me out of formation. Are you trying to get me killed?”

Wen Yuhan tilted her head, unconcerned by the edge in his voice.

“If I wanted you dead, Chen Enlai, I wouldn’t have guided you here.” Her voice held no fear, no remorse. “I brought you here because I need your help.”

He stepped back, eyes narrowing. “My help? Right now? Are you insane? Demonic beasts are crawling all over the walls, and you’re here whispering secrets in back alleys? Are you joking?”

“Correction, they are not merely demonic beasts but undead demonic beasts... Ugh... That’s beside the point. I’m not joking,” she said evenly. “And I’m not asking for something selfish. This is for the village, and for New Willow’s survival.”

“You could have said that before dragging me away from the battle!”

“No,” she said and stepped closer. “I couldn’t, because Da Wei would’ve stopped you. He doesn’t trust me. Not completely. And he’s right not to… but only because I’m willing to do what he won’t.”

Her words carried a chill that cut through the sweat on his skin. Her posture remained composed, but there was something in her eyes. Something dangerous!

“I need you to do something,” she continued. “Something only someone with your strength and position can do. You’re not bound by council politics. You’re strong enough, respected enough, and most importantly… You still believe this village is worth saving.”

Chen Enlai’s shoulders tightened. Her voice had grown softer, almost coaxing now.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, unease growing with each heartbeat.

Wen Yuhan leaned in, close enough that her breath brushed against his ear. Her next words came in a whisper, only a few short syllables. When she pulled back, his entire body went still. His pupils shrank. His mouth opened slightly, a soundless question on the edge of his lips. He stared at her, stunned.

“You’re insane,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

Wen Yuhan’s expression didn’t change.

“No,” she replied calmly. “I’m just tired of waiting for the future to fall into our laps. Now, tell me, Chen Enlai. Will you do it?”

…

..

.

Finally, after so much effort, they finished the evacuation.

Smoke rose in thick black pillars from the village below, curling into the dusky sky. The levitating platform drifted slowly upward, creaking under the weight of nearly four thousand evacuees. It hovered now, suspended above the ruined heart of New Willow, casting a long shadow over the battlefield.

Chen Enlai stood at the edge of the platform, rifle slung across his shoulder, gaze drawn toward the chaos beneath them. The fighting still raged below, a smear of motion and death… an orgy of undead fury tearing through the remnants of their home.

The Yama King mercilessly transformed into an aberrant creature.

Chen Enlai spotted movement. A lone figure fled through the debris. It was Da Wei.

“Look! It’s him!” someone shouted near the edge, voice cracking with shock and accusation.

“He’s running!”

“Da Wei! That bastard left the strategist behind!”

Chen Enlai turned, ears flooded with the noise of a hundred overlapping voices. The crowd surged in agitation… refugees and original settlers alike, many of them bruised, bloodied, and emotionally frayed. They pointed downward, curses hissing like steam.

“He ran! He left her down there!”

“I thought he was supposed to be our hero!”

“Where is your precious general now, huh? Running like a rat!”

The words cut through the air like knives. The mood on the platform was turning volatile. Even in their momentary safety, the villagers seethed, the rage of loss seeking a new direction, a scapegoat. The Da family stood together near the northern edge of the platform, backs straight, shoulders squared… but they were surrounded and vulnerable.

Da Jin stood silent, stoic in the face of contempt. Lin Wei wrapped a protective arm around Da Ji, her eyes scanning the crowd warily. Da Ji’s face was red with frustration, and her mouth twisted in fury.

“Stop it!” she snapped, stepping forward. “He didn’t run! He was ordered to fall back! He’s done more for this village than any of you—”

Her voice wavered, but only slightly. “He fought from the frontlines! He gave you these guns, these platforms… he fought bandits, demon beasts, and monsters, for heaven’s sake! Do you think he’s a coward?! Then go back down there and fight in his place!”

The crowd didn’t shout back, but their silence was sharp, brittle with disbelief.

Ding Shan moved without a word, stepping in beside the Da family. His massive axe was still slick with blood, his face unreadable as he stared down the forming crowd. Yuen Fu stood on the other side, hand resting loosely on his saber. The message was clear. No one would lay a hand on the Da family… not while they were breathing.

Chen Enlai stood a short distance away, unmoving. His eyes weren’t on the crowd. They were locked on Da Wei’s retreating figure, still shrinking into the haze below. A part of him… a cruel, bitter part… understood the villagers’ rage. This wasn’t the Da Wei he idolized, the warrior he’d once aspired to be. It was easy to see a coward in that moment. Easy to judge.

But there was something else, too. That fleeing form… those weren’t the steps of a man running from fear. They were precise, purposeful, and every movement was measured. Chen Enlai’s gut twisted. He didn’t know what Da Wei was doing, but he knew it wasn’t surrender.

And yet, even knowing that... his fingers brushed against the rifle at his back.

Chen Enlai’s breath caught in his throat as the tension on the platform simmered just below the edge of violence. He stood frozen, watching Da Ji argue with the crowd, her voice straining to defend her brother as if the fate of New Willow rested solely on her words. Her figure looked nothing like the bratty girl he’d once teased, nor the soldier he’d fought beside.

And then, the memory slithered back into his mind. It was unbidden and unwelcome. “Kill Da Ji.”