Immortal Paladin

I opened my eyes from meditation, the aftertaste of shared consciousness still clinging to my thoughts. The meeting with the Six Path souls had been brief, chaotic, and deeply unsettling. The Ghost Soul’s sudden disconnection had already shaken us, but the Asura Soul vanishing as well crossed a line none of us had ever imagined.

We knew they were dead.

It wasn’t knowledge in the conventional sense, nor was it emotion. It was instinct. The same instinct that had guided us through tribulations, calamities, and impossible choices whispered with rare clarity, and ever since the Ghost Soul’s death, it had grown louder.

I leaned back against the willow tree, letting my weight rest there longer than propriety allowed. Laziness crept in, familiar and comforting, even as responsibility loomed overhead. As the Animal Soul, I was supposed to be carefree, impulsive, blissfully ignorant of grand strategy and imperial burdens. That had always been my role among my soul-siblings.

Yet here I was, overseeing governance and defense of the capital state of the Holy Ascension Empire.

I pushed myself upright and patted my robes smooth. My body still carried an annoying softness, chubby in places it had no business being chubby, courtesy of the absurd amount of energy I’d absorbed during the Heavenly Tribulation. The matter of my bloodline remained unresolved as well. Whatever it was, that damned lightning had interrupted the process halfway, leaving me with questions and no answers.

I sighed.

A face suddenly emerged from the bark of the willow tree.

“Ah—shit!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, heart slamming against my ribs. The face blinked, confused, then pushed its way out further, bark rippling like water. It was Wu Chen.

I scowled. “You’re trying to kill me now?”

She stepped fully out of the tree, completely naked.

I froze.

I covered my eyes with both hands. “Clothes,” I snapped. “Now. I don’t need this burned into my soul.”

“It’s fine now,” she said casually.

I hesitated before peeking through my fingers. She was clothed again, loosely at that, leaves and fibers forming something barely respectable. Wu Chen immediately lost interest in me, twirling her blonde hair while scratching her long ear. Her gaze fixed on something crawling along the tree trunk. Without hesitation, she plucked the wriggling thing and popped it into her mouth.

I coughed loudly. “Did you find anything or not?”

She chewed thoughtfully before answering.

The willow behind us wasn’t ordinary. The mistletoe I had recovered from the White Clan’s lands came from a tree whose origin traced back to the Greater Universe. I had hired Bai Zemin, the former Bai Matriarch, to care for it. Over time, the mistletoe had taken root, grown, and transformed into this tree, nourished by faith and the ambient power of New Willow.

Wu Chen wiped her fingers on her sleeve and nodded. “It’ll take time,” she said. “The tree isn’t ready yet. It needs to grow more, develop sapience. But it’s healthy. Very healthy.”

She placed a hand on the bark, eyes half-lidded. “The faith here feeds it well. It thinks of you as its mother.”

I stared at her. “You’re mistaken,” I said flatly. “I’m a guy.”

Before she could argue, someone approached quietly from behind. I turned to see a woman with silver hair and plain robes bowing deeply. Bai Zemin kept her posture low, respectful to the point of reverence.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly.

She was… fine. Decent, even. Still, I had eyes on her at all times. Resentment was a tricky thing, and grief had a way of fermenting into something dangerous. I still didn’t understand why the True Self had accepted her into the fold so readily.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The preparations are complete,” Bai Zemin replied. “The funeral will begin shortly.”

I nodded. “Thank you. You’ve worked hard.”

She bowed again and withdrew without another word.

Wu Chen wrapped her arms around the willow tree, pressing her cheek against the bark. “I want to stay,” she said brightly. “I want to get to know our child better.”

I winced, rubbing my temples as the instinct in my chest stirred uneasily once more.

I left the garden through the layered formations Bai Zemin and Nongmin had raised together at my request. Each step carried me farther from stillness and closer to noise, until the air shifted and the scent of leaves gave way to incense and iron.

I emerged directly onto the street.

No one recognized me, which was a relief. New Willow had grown too vast for any single face to matter unless it demanded to be seen. The city sprawled outward and upward, a living construct shaped by dense qi and clever engineering. Floating supports anchored districts above the ground, keeping supply routes open even during sieges. I never liked the idea of a city suspended in the sky, but this was war time, and New Willow was the spine of our logistics.

If it fell, Northern Stronghold would starve, and the Great Desert would be cut off.

I walked until the streets thinned and the air grew damp with soil and resin. At the edge of New Willow, a forest had been hastily simulated, trees transplanted whole and anchored with formations. The funeral was already underway, open to the sky on one side, quiet and solemn.

Bai Zemin appeared beside me without a sound. “There shouldn’t be any immediate problems,” she whispered. “But if the trees remain too long, their roots will interfere with the formations. It could destabilize the island.”

I glanced at the forest. “What if I asked you to tend this place too, if it came to that?”

She stiffened. “I would gladly do so,” she said after a pause, then lowered her gaze. “But placing such trust in me would be dangerous.”

“I’m not trusting you,” I replied calmly. “I want to trust you. This is how it starts. If you do well here, you move forward.”

She nodded once, deeply, and stepped away at my gesture.

I tore the Magic Scroll of Disguise.

My body shifted, bones stretching, features sharpening as I returned to my adult form. The green robes of the Lofty Jade Proposition settled over me, familiar and heavy with expectation. When I stepped forward, the murmurs softened. Heads bowed. Eyes followed.

I stopped before the coffin.

Chief Wan Peng’s likeness was painted carefully, the lines around his eyes captured with surprising gentleness. I took an incense stick, lit it, and knelt. Smoke curled upward as I pressed my forehead low.

Before New Willow was a city, it had been a village of hunters. Wan Peng had been its backbone. On his deathbed, he asked to be buried in the forest as tradition have it, and not beneath stone or gold. The funeral was extravagant in a way, but that was for the living, and not the dead.

For me, it was repayment.

I rose after the offering and turned toward the waiting table. My parents stood there, side by side. Da Jin’s hand came down on my shoulder, firm and warm.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said quietly.

“I wouldn’t miss this,” I answered, my gaze lingering once more on the coffin before facing him fully.

Despite being at the Third Realm, Will Reinforcement, my parents had unmistakably grown old. The white in their hair was no longer something they bothered to hide. They had refused every longevity medicine I offered, content with the lifespan their cultivation naturally granted them. They said it was enough.

I knew better.

A day would come when I would have to say farewell to them as well.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, narrowing my eyes at them, “are you slacking off on your cultivation? I’m telling you, talent isn’t even the problem at all—”

“Shut it,” Lin Wei cut in immediately.

She crossed her arms, eyes sharp but warm. “All I want is for you to be happy. If us getting old is the price for that, then so be it.”

I frowned. “How am I supposed to be happy if my parents croak before I do?”

Da Jin smacked the back of my head.

There was a loud crack.

He sucked in a sharp breath, clutching his hand as his face twisted in pain. I blinked in surprise. I had already suppressed my Reflect, yet he still managed to hurt himself.

He must have been really pissed.

I sighed and waved my hand, channeling Cure into his wrist. The damage knitted itself back together in moments.

Da Jin flexed his hand, then looked at me seriously. “One of our biggest wishes,” he said, “is to see you get married.”

Lin Wei nodded enthusiastically. “Better yet, to see grandkids.”

Da Jin coughed awkwardly. “Da Wen already gave us plenty of children.”

Before I could respond, he dragged a young man forward.

“Oh—snap,” I muttered.

Was that my youngest brother?

I had only seen him twice in my life. Once as a baby. Once as a pre-teen. I stared at him longer than was polite, realization dawning uncomfortably slow.

I really had been that busy.

Da Wen cupped his fist and bowed. “Eldest Brother.”

I grimaced. “I even missed your wedding?” I asked. “When did you get married?”

Da Wen looked away. “I haven’t… yet.”

Lin Wei smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made people confess crimes they hadn’t committed. “Your younger brother let power get to his head,” she said sweetly. “He acted a bit too loose.”

Da Wen immediately bowed toward her. “Mother, I beg forgiveness. I’ve been working hard. I just passed the scholar’s exam. I can help Father with his duties as Chief.”

I raised a brow. “What exactly happened?” I asked slowly. “It can’t be that bad.”

I examined Da Wen more carefully. His cultivation was at the Fourth Realm. The foundation was shaky, but not disastrous. Average, really, for someone who had been cultivating for over a century.

Da Jin sighed. “In his younger years, he thought he was invincible. He caused trouble everywhere, got taken advantage of, and did his share of taking advantage too.”

Lin Wei rubbed her temples. “I had to compensate grieving parents, deal with angry families, and manage a rotating list of women. Some took advantage of him, some were taken advantage by him, and some just… happened. Young people these days have no restraint.”

I let out a nervous laugh and lifted a cup. “How about we drink to this,” I said weakly. “Yeah?”

Alcohol had always been everyone’s best friend in times of grief, or so Jue Bu and Jiang Zhen liked to say. I never bothered arguing with that logic. Before long, cups were being refilled faster than they could be emptied.

I quietly lowered my alcohol tolerance with willpower, using the same method a Divine Physician once taught me. If I was going to drink, I was going to drink. So we did.

Apparently, my younger brother had lived far too long as a carefree young master.

We drank through the afternoon and straight into the night. For a sovereign, it was probably one of the worst ways to spend precious time, but at that moment, I didn’t care. ‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘We ball.’

I leaned back with a glass of liquor in hand as Da Wen finally poured everything out. He spoke about being painfully average compared to me and Da Ji, how that inferiority pushed him toward alcohol and women. He said he was trying to change now, paying child support, taking responsibility, but the question still haunted him.

Why wasn’t there anything special about him?

Da Jin rubbed his back and sighed. “I know how that feels,” he said, then laughed bitterly. “I remember when your eldest beat my ass during military conscription on False Earth.”

I snorted.

Lin Wei, already tipsy, slammed her cup down. “You think that was hard?” she snapped at me. “I had to take care of both of you idiots.”

Somewhere along the way, Da Jin and Lin Wei started flirting openly, completely forgetting their sons were present. I stared at them in stunned silence, suddenly questioning every childhood memory I had.

By dawn, both of them were thoroughly hammered.

I exhaled and cast Cleanse, purging the toxins from my body. Da Wen did the same, his posture straightening as clarity returned to his eyes.

“Well done,” I said, genuinely impressed. “Good control. Your qi flow’s clean, and you learned it without a Legacy.”

He scratched his head. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“I get poisoned a lot.”

That answer pissed me off. “Why would anyone dare poison you?” I demanded. “Do they have a death wish? Is my name not enough?”

Da Wen laughed awkwardly. “By poison, I mean aphrodisiacs. That’s how I got tricked into bedding daughters from one influential family after another.”

I winced. That was vile. “Influential how?”

He sighed. “As New Willow grew, factions and clans started forming. The Da Clan became untouchable, so everyone wanted a piece of that status.” He hesitated before continuing. “I used to resent you for living in your shadow. But after I got my shit together… after realizing how fragile life really is, I understood there was no point. So I stopped resenting you and started trying to redeem myself. This is me contributing, however small it is.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“You’re still an idiot,” I said finally, then smiled faintly. “But I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll do better,” Da Wen said quietly, his voice steady in a way it hadn’t been before.

I nodded and left my parents in his care, trusting him with that much at least. As I walked, I cast Cleanse again, this time more thoroughly, washing away the lingering fog of alcohol and fatigue until my thoughts sharpened.

The Shrine of Da Wei greeted me with familiar stillness.

A sudden flash of golden-red light clashed with a streak of blue in the courtyard. I paused, watching as Ren Jingyi and Ding Cai sparred. Ren Jingyi wielded a whip that cracked like thunder, each strike carrying suppressed draconic pressure. Ding Cai danced through the assault with a pair of daggers, her movements fluid and adaptive.

After testing nearly every weapon imaginable, Ding Cai had shown frightening talent with all of them. Lately, I had been teaching her martial arts personally, and she absorbed each lesson with unsettling speed. Had she trained directly under Yuen Fu, her growth would have been even faster.

Ren Jingyi was different. She was leaning toward hand-to-hand combat lately, her body channeling Draconic Force despite only being at the Eighth Realm. For most cultivators, World Force was a privilege of the Ninth Realm. Dragons, however, bent those rules through Dragon Fear, Dragon Might, and similar manifestations.

As expected, it was too much for Ding Cai.

Even while actively suppressing her cultivation, Ren Jingyi overwhelmed her, forcing Ding Cai back until she yielded with a frustrated grunt. When they noticed me, both halted immediately and cupped their fists.

“Master,” they greeted in unison.

I nodded. “How is Gu Jie?”

“Still unconscious,” Ren Jingyi replied.

Ding Cai hesitated, then asked, “Did you receive any messages from my aunt?”

Peng Cai of the Heavenly Academy had always sent a letter every month without fail. Recently, those letters had stopped.

I shook my head. “Not yet. I’ll send someone to investigate.”

Footsteps echoed as Hei Mao entered the courtyard, his face drawn and exhausted. He cupped his fist. “There have been changes in Senior Sister Gu Jie’s body.”

My gaze sharpened. “What kind of changes?”

Hei Mao swallowed. “It’s better if you see for yourself.”

My disciples followed me in silence as we crossed the courtyard and entered one of the inner buildings. Before stepping inside, I raised a hand.

“Stay here,” I told them.

They obeyed without question.

The moment I crossed the threshold, a familiar unease settled in my chest. Ever since Hei Mao and Gu Jie had appeared in New Willow right around the time the Ghost Soul perished, I had been unable to shake the feeling that something fundamental had gone wrong. 

Gu Jie’s sudden fall into a magical coma was one thing. More troubling was Hei Mao’s account of their mission to recover Ru Qiu’s memories… and how it ended with Gu Jie being stripped of her status as a disciple by the Ghost Soul himself.

Among the Six Path souls, we had been divided over that decision. Still, none of us could truly argue with it, especially now that the Ghost Soul was gone. To avoid chaos within the group, we had quietly kept Gu Jie’s disciple status intact. Only I, the remaining Six Path souls, and Hei Mao knew the truth.

The room was warm and carefully arranged, more like a bedroom than a sickroom. Soft talismans hummed faintly in the air. At the center lay a single bed.

Gu Jie rested upon it.

Standing before her was Wen Yuhan, rigid and unmoving, like a sentinel. She had appeared out of nowhere around the time Gu Jie fell into her coma, as if drawn by fate itself.

I had considered many times using Divine Possession on Wen Yuhan, seeing events through her perspective, waking Gu Jie, even borrowing the Destiny-Seeking Eyes to prepare for the crisis I could feel brewing in the distance. But every attempt ended the same way.

Wen Yuhan would pick a fight relentlessly, everytime I tried to cast Divine Possession on Gu Jie. When Wen Yuhan wanted to be a menace, she was spectacularly effective.

I stepped closer to Gu Jie, and my breath hitched.

Now I understood what Hei Mao meant.

Gu Jie looked… older and frail. Her skin had lost its vitality, her breathing shallow, her life force threadbare. It reminded me painfully of the period when misfortune had ground her down, back when she barely had control over her Sixth Sense of Misfortune.

What had she done to invite this much backlash?

I raised a hand and spoke softly. “Divine Word: Life.”

Warm radiance flowed into her body, knitting frayed life threads and stabilizing her condition if only slightly.

Wen Yuhan did not stop me. Throughout the entire time, her eyes had remained closed. She was a corpse puppet, controlled and bound by mysterious powers. It was the reason the Ghost Soul had stripped Gu Jie of her disciple status.

Wen Yuhan spoke. Her voice was soft and strained, like every word had to fight its way out of her throat. “It… it was not the child’s fault.” She stuttered, struggling, as if resisting some invisible restraint. For a brief moment, her closed eyes trembled.

Before I could respond—

CLANG—CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!

The alarm bell of New Willow rang, hard and fast, its sound tearing through the city like a blade.

My heart sank.

That bell was only ever rung for one reason.

I vanished from the room and reappeared outside in a burst of qi. The sky had already changed. Dense and suffocating pressure rolled down from above as countless presences erupted into existence. The clouds were torn apart, revealing metal, runes, and formation lights.

“Soaring ships…” Ding Cai whispered, eyes wide.

Hei Mao sucked in a sharp breath. “How do they have this kind of technology?”

He was right to be shocked. Tens of thousands of ships hovered in the sky, layered in formation, their hulls gleaming with formation arrays and weapon ports. This was Imperial-grade technology, something that was supposed to be exclusive to us.

Ren Jingyi clenched her fists. “Master… we have to run.”

She wasn’t wrong.

New Willow’s heart was me. Its flight, its stability, and its warp was tied directly to my cultivation through the grand formation. If I fell, the city fell. I didn’t hesitate. I poured qi into the core formation and directly seized control. Spirit stones vanished from the storage by the thousands as I activated the warp array.

The world twisted and space folded.

In a heartbeat, I thought we’d made it.

CRACK.

The formation screamed as lines of light shattered like glass, and the warp collapsed mid-transition for some unknown reason. New Willow lurched violently as we were thrown back into realspace.

We hadn’t gone far at all.

The enemy ships followed us like hounds, locking on instantly.

“Barrier, now!”

Explosions blossomed across the sky as bombardment began. Beams of condensed qi and formation-enhanced artillery slammed into the city’s shield. I raised the barrier personally, reinforcing it with will, qi, mana, and formation authority.

Even so, the impact rattled my bones.

I inhaled and roared through Qi Speech, my voice echoing directly into every mind connected to the city.

“This is not a drill!”

“All warriors to your posts!”

“We will rejoin the sky fleet as soon as possible!”

“Cultivators Fifth Realm and above are immediately drafted for deployment!”

“Initiate countermeasures Six, Nine, and Thirteen—now!”

The city responded.

Formations flared to life. Defensive towers rose from hidden compartments. Cultivators launched into the sky in streaks of light. New Willow, for all its beauty, revealed the teeth it had grown during wartime.

A powerful presence descended.

It was a lone man in the sky, balanced effortlessly atop a single sword. His expression was calm, almost bored. Around him, that one sword multiplied. Two. Three. Ten. Hundreds. Thousands. In the blink of an eye, swords filled the sky with tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands, forming a sea of cold steel that eclipsed even the invading fleet.

My blood ran cold.

However, it got worse.

The sun dimmed.

An eclipse rolled across the heavens, devouring light as something forced its way through the city’s barrier. Space ruptured, and a figure crashed down before me, cracking the ground beneath his feet.

I stared.

“…What are you doing here?”

The man straightened, lifting his head.

It was Ru Qiu.