Immortal Paladin

Da Ji floated above the gathered crowd, shrine maiden robes billowing softly in the wind. Her voice carried across the city like a hymn, each word steady, deliberate, and weighted with compassion.

“People of New Willow, today we gather not to curse the heavens, but to honor those who have gone before us. The bonds of family, friendship, and love are not broken by death; they live on within us, shaping who we are and who we will become. May the departed find peace, and may the living find the strength to endure.”

Her form shimmered, body contracting until her smaller fox shape took hold, fur glowing pale under the moonlight. She spread her tails, and with each motion, snow began to descend from the skies.

“This snow,” she continued, her voice both gentle and commanding, “is farewell, but also a blessing. It is a reminder that even in the coldest nights, there is still beauty, still quiet, still hope. Do not grieve as though all is lost. Grieve, and then rise, for those who cannot rise again. Carry their memory into tomorrow.”

The city fell silent as her snow blanketed the roofs and streets, each flake catching the light like fragments of stars. For a breathless moment, peace reigned. Then, slowly, came the cries of mothers clutching children, husbands and wives holding one another, and mourners voicing their sorrow into the night.

The falling snow had become more than frost; it was a symbol of farewell, etched into the hearts of New Willow’s people. The first time snow had blanketed the city was when the Yama King descended with his horde of undead. It was winter then, death itself seeming to ride the chill wind. The second time was during False Earth’s great war, when the city had torn itself from the world and risen into the sky. Da Ji had gone berserk then, her frost sealing the entire city in an instant. Ironically, that berserk frenzy had preserved lives by freezing them instead of hurling them into the void. The knowledge I carried from the future had let me align such chaos into something that turned in our favor. But even with my resurrection magic and the Da Ji of today, calm and wise in her frost, not everyone could be saved. Too many graves still filled the earth. What relief I felt came from the fact that people did not blame Da Ji for their loved ones’ deaths. Admittedly, that had been thanks to the carefully spun white lie I had woven into the city’s story. I told myself it was necessary, but damn it, I hoped deceit wouldn’t become second nature. I could lie without flinching, but the truth was, it always left a sour taste behind.

I stayed perched on the roof of the shrine, looking down at the newly dug graves stretching across the fields below. Alice wasn’t beside me; she had gone as my envoy to the neighboring sects and territories. With New Willow drifting through the Hollowed World like a colossal ship of stone and timber, diplomacy had to be tended like a garden. If we ignored those we passed by, suspicion would grow, and suspicion would turn to hostility. That, more than any lack of food or energy, would endanger our survival.

I inhaled deeply and let Qi flood my voice, the resonance carrying my words across every street and corner of New Willow. “People of New Willow, today is not only for mourning but for change. The world around us has shifted. We can no longer cling to what we once were, but we can shape what we will become. The dead are not forgotten, nor are they lost. We live, and because we live, we must move forward. Today marks the Day of Healing. Let it be the first step of many.” My words vibrated in the air like the strike of a great bell, and I felt the ripple of emotion flow back from the crowd.

Just as silence began to settle, a voice boomed across the skies, powerful enough to rattle the snowflakes mid-descent. “I am Qiao Da! King of the Mountain! And you trespass over my domain with your flying city!”

My eyes narrowed as I turned toward the horizon, where a figure hovered in the sky above us, aura blazing with Ninth Realm ferocity. He carried himself like an untouchable tyrant, as though the heavens themselves had crowned him invincible.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Bandits with egos. Always the same. Ninth Realm cultivation was terrifying to most, but to me, it meant nothing.

“Hand over your women, and my mighty warriors will spare your pitiful city! Defy me, and you shall see what true cruelty looks like!” Qiao Da’s booming voice carried across the skies, arrogant and self-assured, like thunder that demanded obedience.

I blinked at the absurdity of it, then turned my gaze toward the adjacent mountain. A series of silhouettes launched themselves into the air, leaping across the distance in wild arcs, their Qi flaring in different colors. The sheer number of cultivators making the jump might have looked impressive to common folk, but before they could close half the distance, the protective formation arrays of New Willow flared to life. Blinding lines of light shot across the air, forming a translucent barrier, and the bandits were thrown back as if struck by invisible hammers, sent tumbling helplessly against the rocky cliffside.

I sighed and reached into my Item Box, pulling out the carved wooden mask. The thing was little more than a gimmick item. It muffled my presence and reduced my Charisma, turning my face into something forgettable. Alice had insisted on it. She was wary of outsiders linking my actions to New Willow, especially after the Summit. That was why I was usually confined to the city-state, while Alice bore the burden of diplomacy in my stead. I slipped the mask over my face, its rough wood oddly grounding, and changed the color of my emerald robes with a touch of quintessence, shifting them to orange trimmed in gold.

“Guess I’ll get to stretch my legs today,” I muttered to myself. With a tap of my foot, Divine Speed surged through me, and Zealot’s Stride carried me forward in a violent burst. One heartbeat, I was standing on a roof tile, and the next, I erupted into existence right in front of Qiao Da.

The so-called king of the mountain stared at me, stunned for only a breath before his bravado returned. “You dare stand before Qiao Da? Do you know who I am? I am the—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I cut him off, tired already of the performance. “Fuck off. Go farm, or take care of goats.”

Before his ego could catch up to my words, I swung the back of my hand. War Smite exploded along my palm, holy force detonating with perfect precision. The knockback effect tore through the air, and Qiao Da’s body blurred into a streak, sent flying like a ragdoll across the horizon. He vanished into the side of a mountain with a thunderous crash, stone and dust erupting upward in a plume.

I shook my hand loose and exhaled. Imprisoning a Ninth Realm cultivator would have been a pointless expense; our resources were scarce enough as it was. Better to save them for rebuilding, rather than wasting them on trash like him.

I raised my hand and let my Qi Speech ripple through the city; my words carried on invisible waves that touched every soul in New Willow. “Citizens, remain calm. The disturbance has been dealt with. You are safe, and no harm shall come to you.” The message spread like a gentle chime, echoing across streets, homes, and the hearts of those listening.

As I spoke, I felt their faith surge toward me like warm currents beneath my skin. My senses sharpened, telling me exactly what they felt from relief, reverence, and a swelling trust. That faith, distilled into quintessence, threaded itself into my body and spirit, empowering me further. I could feel the strength rising, like steel plates layered upon my bones. Confidence stirred; if an Eleventh Realm cultivator appeared before me, I would wreck them. Numbers mattered little when faith sustained and empowered me. Yet I knew the danger still lurked beyond the horizon. If another like Jia Sen, with his [Level 20] Ascended Soul, revealed himself, it would be a different matter entirely. I would need to prioritize escape routes, for when the Heavenly Temple finally stirred, their judgment would not spare us. For now, our city remained unseen by the Hollowed World’s great powers, a fledgling kingdom too small to notice. But if they branded us ‘Outsiders’ and demanded cleansing, that would become the worst of all possible endings.

My focus shifted, and through Qi Speech, I reached out to Ding Shan. “Track the bandit I sent your way. Find his base, and claim whatever treasure he hoards.”

I felt the ripple of his acknowledgment, his voice echoing back with hesitation. “What about the hunt for wild game, Lord? Should I keep my men on it?”

“You may go yourself,” I answered, the words resonating with command. “Leave your subordinates to hunt. You will be fine. I got your back. I will bestow my Asura Soul to you, Ding Shan. Bear it well, for it will elevate your strength beyond what you’ve known.”

The connection between us pulsed, more than a simple bond. I cast Divine Possession through that tether of Paladin and Patron, the act blurring the line of what I had once been. I was no longer merely a Paladin. I was closer to a Paladin God, and the authority of divinity hummed in my veins as I shared it with him.

When the transfer ended, I descended from the sky, my speed subtle enough to blend with the ordinary gaze. My feet touched the ground at the cemetery, the place where the city’s grief still clung heavy in the air. I stood among the common folk, my presence unnoticed behind the mask, and I wondered, what could I yet do to make their lives better?

The cemetery was alive with voices, raw and unpolished against the silence of stone.

A woman knelt before a marker, clutching her child as she whispered, “Your father is gone, but today he rests.”

Nearby, an old man placed incense with trembling hands and murmured, “At least they are free from pain.”

Not all the sounds were grief. A cluster of youths sat by a freshly carved tablet, laughing softly as they traded stories of a fallen brother, their sorrow reshaped into celebration. I walked among them without interruption, listening as their emotions rippled through the air. They mourned, they honored, they remembered, and then, with mortal resilience, they began to move forward.

As I listened, my thoughts drifted inward. Six souls… I had carried them, divided them, and lived through them. One rested with Liu Yana, another with Tao Long, and another with Nongmin. The fourth was gone, destroyed in battle, and what remained was a fragment slowly gestating, trying to recreate itself. The Human Soul, with Nongmin, remained inaccessible to me, no matter how I reached it. That left me with not a single soul, having bestowed my Hell Soul to Ye Yong and very recently my Asura Soul to Ding Shan.

It was strange being soulless, but I didn’t feel any different.

”Nongmin... I wonder what’s happening to him?”

Perhaps I should send an agent ahead, toward the Empire. But I already had the Night Blades at work, and their task was dangerous enough. I’ve tasked my Night Blades with the search for my disciple, Lu Gao, and for Yuen Fu, threading unfamiliar lands where one wrong step meant death. I had transformed the Night Blades into Paladins with my Immortal Art, the Divine Appointment of the Faithful. Moreover, I left my Hell Soul to Ye Yong. If anything befell them, their bond to me would carry the warning. And then I could act through my Hell Soul.

Finally, I found Da Ji. Her figure stood beneath the daylight, fox ears lowered, the snow she had conjured earlier fading into nothing. Beside her was Chen Wei. Our parents, Da Jin and Lin Wei, stood with them. In front of all was the tombstone of Chen Enlai, Da Ji’s late husband, his name etched into stone and memory alike.

I approached quietly, my footsteps soft against the earth. “How are you holding up?” I asked, my voice low, meant only for them.

Da Ji gave a faint smile, weary but calm. “Better than yesterday. The snow helped… It always helps.”

Chen Wei’s small voice added, “Mother says Father is still watching me.” He looked up at me, not with tears but with determination, as though testing the truth in his words.

Lin Wei reached out, brushing Da Ji’s arm. “Family endures. That is enough.”

I nodded. “Then let’s endure together.” My tone lightened as I added, “Though, Chen Wei, I expect you not to give your mother too much trouble. Or me, for that matter.” The boy smirked faintly, a hint of mischief that reminded me of Da Ji’s younger days.

We lingered in quiet conversation, the words meandering between memory, loss, and the stubborn strength of family. And that was what mattered. So I stayed with them for the rest of the Day of Healing, letting the hours stretch into something more than mourning.