Immortal Paladin

I watched from behind a glassy prison called memory as David fumbled, suffered, and tried to reconcile with what stood before him. It felt like observing the world through thick crystal. It was clear enough to hurt, and distant enough to feel helpless.

“Is this it?” David asked, his voice strained as he conjured a pair of arms through the manifestation of a holy spirit. They were pale and radiant, artificial yet functional. He forced his limping leg into alignment by invoking Immortal Art: Crimson Crown of Catastrophe. The crimson sigils burned briefly around his knee, knitting flesh and will together. That art belonged to Alice. This was the first time I saw him use it. “Disciple, it’s me, your master. Please, we can talk about this. We can make it right. You just have to listen to me.”

Yuan Shun leaped at him with feral speed. David slipped aside with a single step, Flash Step tearing space beneath his foot. He drew his sword mid-motion and slashed, aiming cleanly for her centerline. Yuan Shun caught the blade with her bare hands and pinched inward. Metal screamed, then shattered into fragments that rang against the desert like falling bells.

David reached into my pocket dimension, pulling weapon after weapon into his grasp. Each one lasted only a few exchanges. Some cracked. Some disintegrated outright. Eventually, he abandoned physical arms altogether and relied on conjuration through raw quintessence. Lances, axes, and blades formed and broke in rapid succession, each lasting only moments against Yuan Shun’s abnormal strength.

Then he reached for my Silver Steel.

When he parried her next strike, the sword held.

Again and again, he blocked and redirected her blows, and the blade did not crack, did not warp, did not scream in protest. It endured. I felt a flicker of surprise ripple through me. Had the nature of the sword changed? It had soaked in my blood for years, been used as a totem when I sealed Aixin, steeped in intent, sacrifice, and stubborn refusal. Perhaps it had learned how to persist.

Yuan Shun’s voice softened. “Master, please. There’s no need to fight back. Let’s just be together.”

“No,” David said, breathless but firm. “I’m going home.”

Pain crossed her face, raw and unguarded. “So was it all a lie? Destroying the world? All of reality?”

I felt David hesitate. He truly was confused.

“I never said anything about destroying the world,” David replied.

Technically, he had. I knew that. He had said many things in despair, in fury, in moments where words were only weapons against loneliness. Emotions were volatile like that. They made liars out of honest people.

David continued, his voice cracking despite himself. “If destroying the world is what it takes for me to go home, then so be it. That was always my most sincere wish. I just… I didn’t want it to lead here.”

The part of me that once defined Da Wei had already fused into him so thoroughly that even David could no longer tell which feelings were his and which were inherited. The line had dissolved long ago.

“Please,” David begged, lowering his sword. “Just come with me. It’s me. David. Your master. We can make things right again. I’ll do it right this time.”

Yuan Shun’s eyes went empty. Whatever emotion had lived there vanished like a snuffed flame. She moved without warning and without hesitation. Her hand pierced his chest and tore his heart free in one smooth motion.

“Master,” she said calmly, “you are just confused. That’s all. I will bring you back.”

I blinked.

The glass shattered.

I was myself again. I staggered backward and fell onto the sand, my leg returning to its limp state as the conjured arms dissolved into motes of light. Yuan Shun loomed over me, chewing slowly on the heart she had torn from my chest, blood staining her lips and chin.

I struggled upright, pain flaring through my body as I conjured another pair of arms to brace myself and hastily picked up the sword. I looked at her and spoke aloud, my voice hoarse but steady.

“You know you’re just fooling yourself, right?”

After all, David and Da Wei were already gone. The versions we kept naming were nothing more than split personalities sharing one broken vessel. When despair finally crushed David beneath the weight of his disciple and his choices, he fractured completely, leaving me as the dominant will.

In the end, though, even that distinction felt hollow.

Names, labels, victories, losses. They were all meaningless now.

Yuan Shun’s head exploded in a wet, muffled thunder.

Another head regenerated from the stump almost instantly, skin knitting itself into a familiar outline. The face that emerged shared my likeness, though it was softer and more feminine, framed by long dark hair that flowed as if untouched by gravity. She blinked, eyes focusing on me with dawning confusion.

“What are you talking about?” the woman said. “Fooling myself?”

Calling her Yuan Shun felt wrong. The name slid off her existence without finding purchase. She tilted her head slightly, then smiled with unsettling certainty. “It’s me, David.”

I shook my head slowly, pain radiating behind my eyes. “You think you are David, but you know you are not.”

She frowned, as if genuinely troubled by the idea, then repeated more insistently, “But I’m David… and I’m also Yuan Shun. Yes, we’re together now. Forever.” Her gaze sharpened, hunger creeping into it. “But it’s incomplete. I see it now. I can’t stop. I must consume you whole. Only then will I be complete.”

“But I’m already complete,” I replied.

I did not mean it as comfort or metaphor. I brought my hand to my chest and felt the steady rhythm there, the weight and presence that had once been fractured. “I have my own soul now, independent of the Source. I am alive. I am complete. If you take me, what about the excess? Wouldn’t you be just as incomplete when you started?”

“Lies!” she hissed, voice fracturing into overlapping echoes. “You know nothing!”

I met her gaze and asked quietly, “Then tell me. Who are you, really?”

She hesitated. Uncertainty rippled across her expression. “But… I’m not a who?” she murmured. Her eyes widened with strange clarity. “Ah. It’s imperfect, but I’m here. Yes, this is a start. This form is incompatible.” She looked down at her own hands, flexing them as cracks pulsed beneath her skin. “So I only need to make it compatible.”

A tentacle erupted from nowhere, vast and formless, slamming her into the sand with impossible force. Space folded around her as she was dragged screaming into a pocket dimension, her voice cutting off mid-syllable.

The Yellow Emperor appeared beside me, his expression grim. “This is a most terrible development.”

I exhaled sharply. “What, you decided to interfere now, when it’s all over?”

Before he could answer, a voice flowed through my Warlock Legacy, uncharacteristically gentle. “This is an emergency,” the Supreme Void said. “Not many things can hold the Origin as a vessel. Listen carefully. This is a crisis that could mean the end of everything.”

I snorted despite myself. “Aren’t you the embodiment of the end? Void, emptiness, all that?”

“Yeah,” the Supreme Void replied flatly, “but I still want to live. After everything ends, I plan to sleep. A very long sleep. You wouldn’t understand. The point is, that thing before you can annihilate even nothingness.” His tone sharpened. “Consider this a crash course in Supreme Beings and Ancient Gods. Little Emperor, tell him.”

The Yellow Emperor inclined his head. “Briefly, then. My kind has an enemy called the Origin. We lost. To oppose it, we summoned the first Supreme Vessel.”

“That’d be me,” the Supreme Void added without shame.

The Yellow Emperor continued, “You must defeat what stands before you. If you fail, the future becomes irredeemable.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the pocket dimension shattered into ash along with the offending tentacle. The woman stood before me again, cracks glowing beneath her skin like veins of alien light. For a fleeting moment, Yuan Shun’s original presence surfaced, her eyes soft and desperate.

“Ah, master,” she said, voice trembling. “We’ll be together again.”

She stopped just a step away from me.

“The Origin doesn’t have enough power to fully manifest through her yet—” the Yellow Emperor began.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.

I felt the Yellow Emperor freeze. I felt the Supreme Void recoil in disbelief. I ignored them both. I pulled her close, resting my chin against her shoulder, and whispered into her ear with all the conviction I had left.

“Everything’s going to be fine, disciple.”

The Supreme Void spoke first, his tone unusually restrained. “I can only exert my power three more times. Any more than that, and the Warden interferes.”

The Yellow Emperor followed, voice heavy with calculation. “I can bestow good luck. However, it will erode almost immediately under the misfortune you have accumulated. Seven seconds at most. Use them well.”

Through Qi Speech, I replied calmly, “I don’t need your help. I’ve got this.”

I felt their bewilderment press against me like static. Normally, I would have said such a thing out of spite or stubborn pride. This time, it was different. This was not defiance. This was acceptance. This was David. All of him.

I placed my hand on Yuan Shun’s head and patted her slowly, gently, the way I used to when she was still small and trying too hard to look strong. I leaned close and spoke softly. “I am going to end it all. Everything. I promise you that. I am going to end all of existence, and then I will make a new one. There, we can have our happiness.”

Yuan Shun bit into the flesh above my clavicle. I did not resist. I did not flinch.

“What are you doing!?” the Yellow Emperor shouted.

The Supreme Void erupted into laughter, loud and unrestrained. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! He gets it. He really gets it. I can’t believe this. This kid is incredible.”

I spoke without turning my head. “I am going to save her. The Origin does not get to have Yuan Shun. She is my disciple.”

Bone cracked as her teeth sank deeper. With frightening ease, she devoured me. Flesh, muscle, bone, all taken without struggle. I allowed it. When it was over, only my head remained. The sand beneath us had darkened to a deep red, soaked and heavy.

Yuan Shun cradled what was left of me, uncertain, trembling. Her features shifted again, losing their femininity, becoming androgynous and unstable, as if her form itself no longer knew what it was supposed to be.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice shaking. “Why are you not fighting back?”

I smiled. “Because I understand now. With myself whole again, I finally know what I am.”

The power of the Origin brushed against me, not seized, not stolen, but borrowed. It came through a miracle born of wishes, sincere and untainted.

“To repay the favor and support that my master showed me.”

“To be together. I do not want my master to be alone.”

“To protect my family forevermore.”

“To possess the power to defy fate for my master.”

“To become a pillar so my master no longer suffers sadness.”

“To be by my parents’ side, so they can keep telling me stories about master.”

I heard my disciples’ wishes, each one clear and one absolute.

Yuan Shun’s voice trembled as she clutched me tighter. “W-what are you? What do you mean by that? Isn’t it enough that I know who you are, master?”

I met her gaze. “Do not be afraid. What weighs on you was never meant to stay. Sin, sorrow, even malice. These things can be borne, and what is borne can be returned. That has always been the way. To be trusted with such pain is to be loved, even when that love is silent.”

I closed my eyes and spoke the truth of myself.

“Rest now. I know what I am. I am the Supreme Bearer.”

“I don’t want to be alone, master,” Yuan Shun cried.

She was only a head now, suspended in my hands, while I stood whole again. It was as if our position reversed, though that was not the case. I was merely ‘bearing’ her existence. Of course, that was not all.

The power flowing through me was temporary, unstable, and already fraying at the edges, yet I did not rush. I held her close, letting Origin Qi circulate gently to sustain her existence.

“You don’t need to feel alone,” I said softly. “When that feeling comes, think of me. I will bear the loneliness for you.”

“But master,” she whispered, trembling, “I’m just a head right now.”

I hugged her tighter, my grip careful, reverent. My Ophanim spun behind my eyes, calculating, branching, collapsing possibilities until only one path remained.

“My disciple,” I said at last, “it’s time to go.”

She stiffened. “But where?”

“Home.”

Her eyes widened, and a tear slid down her cheek. “I like the sound of that. I’ll be waiting for you, master.”

Her form broke apart into countless motes of light. They lifted from my hands and flowed upward, carried by my will, passing beyond every boundary I knew. I sent her to a place the Origin could never touch her again, an ultimate afterlife where even concepts lost their teeth. Then she was gone.

The Yellow Emperor stared at me, utterly shaken. “How? You sent her back to the Source.”

“It was a fluke,” I answered.

Experience had guided me. I had done something similar before, with Yuan Shen and Wen Yuhan, though I had not understood the scale back then. At the time, I had the Source. Now, I had only Origin Qi, volatile and unforgiving.

My clothes began to dissolve, threads unraveling into light as control of the Origin Qi slipped from my grasp. Something within the power stirred, pressing, testing my limits. I knew I could not hold it much longer.

However, before that, I needed to do a few more things to make it right again.

I drew in the Dark Veil and draped it around myself. The Hollow Star manifested above my head, solid and absolute, a crown forged of authority and consequence. I raised my sword and spoke, my voice ringing across heaven and sand alike.

“Thus, the emperor wore his new clothes without shame, fury in his bones shaking his very being.”

The Yellow Emperor recoiled. “What are you doing?”

“Revenge,” I said.

I took his head in a single motion.

Even as a projected presence, the cut reached him. I heard his scream echo through Origin Qi, sharp and panicked.

“Go reincarnate back to the False Earth and start over,” I said coldly. “Do not even think of touching the Hollowed World again.”

I steadied my breathing as the sky trembled.

The Supreme Void burst into laughter. “It’s just borrowed power, you piece of shit.”

Enormous tentacles lashed toward me, saturated with void. I swung my sword upward. They turned to ash before they could reach me. Light split apart as the cosmic fog separating the Hollowed World and False Earth was cleaved in two.

Origin Qi erupted into a violent Divine Smite, tearing through the heavens and striking the Supreme Void directly.

“Da Wei! You ungrateful son of a bitch!”

I raised the sword again and brought it down.

“Heavenly Punishment.”

This arc was greater, heavier, shaped like an enormous golden blade that cut not space, but essence. Through Origin Qi, I saw it strike the core of the Supreme Void, carving into it and forcing a wound that would take thousands of years to mend.

I lowered my sword and spoke evenly. “That is for screwing with me. Sleep now. When you wake again, I will be coming for you. Look forward to it.”

Now, to heal the world.

With this power, I should have been able to do it on a scale far beyond anything I once believed possible. I rose into the sky, the Great Desert shrinking beneath me until it became a pale scar on the inside of the world. I stopped just before the fog that separated the Hollowed World from the False Earth.

From here, I could see it clearly. The Hollowed World was a sphere, its people living upon the inner surface, an impossible yet elegant design. It was beautiful. It was cruel. It was the place where my story began.

The Dark Veil flowed behind me like a living cape, moving despite the absence of wind. The Hollow Star pulsed above my head, each beat sending waves of quintessence through my body. I raised my sword and pointed it toward the world itself.

I spoke, and my voice carried everywhere.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

The Ultimate Skill expanded outward, not as light, but as law. Every life lost during the war was called back. From the Dark Veil, souls poured forth in uncountable streams, circling the world, finding the places where they had fallen. Flesh was remade from quintessence. Breath returned. Hearts beat again.

There were no exceptions.

Those of the Heavenly Temple returned. Those who fought for me returned. Those who opposed me returned. Soldiers, civilians, cultivators, players, sinners, heroes. All of them.

It hurt.

I had underestimated what this meant. Reviving so many lives was not an act of will alone. It demanded understanding. As the resurrection continued, something within me broke open. I began to live their lives.

I lived as a farmer bent beneath endless seasons. I lived as a merchant weighed down by greed and fear. I lived as a noble drowning in entitlement. I lived as cowards, as tyrants, as kind fools, as quiet heroes who would never be remembered.

Regardless of who they were, I lived through them, and only then did they rise.

Even those with despicable morals returned.

I wanted to stop.

The pain became unbearable, a flood of memories and emotions that were not mine, yet were now inseparable from me. I wanted to let go, to end the skill and save myself from being torn apart by it. I could not. If I stopped, someone would remain dead, and I would have decided they were not worth saving.

Once that line was crossed, it would never end.

The resurrection became indiscriminate, and so did my perspective. I understood then that this power demanded impartiality. If I judged, the miracle would collapse under the weight of my bias.

“I see,” I thought, forcing myself to endure. “This is what it means to bear others’ burdens.”

It was not mercy. It was not kindness. It was the ability to understand others without filters, without excuses, without favoritism. To know them completely, regardless of circumstance, inclination, or personality.

Living was terrible.

I had known that long ago, yet after living so many lives, the truth only deepened. There were countless people who did not deserve a second chance. If I had been allowed to choose freely, I would have denied many of them.

But this power did not belong to my preferences.

So I searched for reasons to endure. I leaned into the fragments of goodness within each life. A single moment of kindness. A quiet regret. A hope never fulfilled. I clung to those fragments and used them to steady myself as unimaginable pain wrapped around my existence.

It still hurt.

As each life returned, I whispered a silent prayer to them.

“Cherish your life. Wish upon others what you wish upon yourself. Do better. Leave this world better than you found it. Make something precious out of your second chance.”

I could feel myself falling from a terrifying height.

Instinctively, I let go of the Origin Qi. I simply could not bear it anymore. The power slipped from my grasp like sand through open fingers, and with it went that unbearable weight pressing down on my existence. I knew the fall itself would not kill me, not from this height, not with what I still was. Even so, panic clawed at my chest.

I could not let go yet.

I reached inward, grasping desperately at whatever scraps of power remained, clinging to a single thought with frightening intensity. I still had not brought them back.

“My daughter. My disciples. I haven’t brought them back yet.”

I searched for them, calling out with my Six Path Souls, with my authority, with my will. There was nothing. No resonance. No response. As if their souls were not merely distant, but somewhere entirely beyond my reach.

What happened to them?

The question echoed uselessly as darkness surged up to claim me. My consciousness fractured, and I fell into it.

I forced myself awake.

I found myself suspended in the air, cradled gently in someone’s arms. A familiar warmth surrounded me, grounding me before I even recognized the face. When I did, my breath caught.

“Alice… you… how?”

She smiled down at me, her floral pink hair drifting softly in the wind. For a moment she was exactly as she was born, naked and unashamed, before she casually conjured a red dress around herself as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Of course I knew,” she said lightly. “The Blood Pact, remember? I can always tell where you are.”

Something about her felt different. Real. Tangible. I frowned slightly, confused, and then it struck me.

“Alice… I can feel you.”

“Yes,” she replied, her smile softening into something achingly sincere. “I’m alive, David. Thank you. I’m alive again.”

She was no longer a vampire. The weight of undeath that had always clung to her was simply gone, erased as if it had never existed.

“T-that’s incredible,” I murmured.

Back in LLO, there had never been a cure. Not truly. Yet here she was, alive in every sense of the word.

“You did incredibly well,” Alice said gently. “You won.”

Not yet, I thought distantly, but even so, warmth spread through my chest. This, at least, was real joy.

My strength finally gave out. I slipped back into unconsciousness, unable to resist it any longer.

It was a strange state. I could still feel my Six Path Souls, but they were distant, like stars scattered across an endless night sky. I could not reach them, only observe them. Somehow, I understood what was happening without needing to ask.

I saw Lu Gao standing in a hellish landscape, flames and ash stretching endlessly around him as he hid from roaming demons.

“Master,” he muttered with grim determination, “I’ll find my way back to you. Hm… that’s a Hell Gate, right?”

I saw Ren Jingyi wandering through a vast world ruled by beasts, towering creatures prowling the land with terrifying majesty.

“Where is this place?” she murmured. “I think… I’m lost. Wait, why is that lizard so huge?”

I saw Hei Mao sprinting through the underworld, crushing hungry ghosts beneath his feet as he escaped their grasp.

“Ah, I almost missed this place,” he chuckled darkly. “I wonder how Ox-Head’s doing?”

I saw Yuen Fu standing awkwardly in a radiant realm among the clouds, surrounded by angels with weapons trained on him.

“I’m just passing through,” he said hurriedly. “I promise. Also, please stop pointing those at me. It’s very uncomfortable.”

I saw Ding Cai running full tilt through a realm crowded with cultivators, her curses echoing behind her.

“Greater Human Realm?” she snapped. “Yeah, I don’t know what this place is, but none of these people have manners!”

I saw Ren Zhe awaken on a battlefield drenched in blood, facing a towering, bloodthirsty asura with wide eyes.

“I’m really just asking for directions,” he said nervously. “I don’t know how I got here. I just opened my eyes and—oh no.”

I laughed quietly within this strange, drifting state. Despite everything, despite the danger, I knew it was all real. They were alive. Scattered, yes, but alive.

Then Gu Jie appeared before me.

She smiled, her presence steadying my scattered thoughts.

“Father,” she said softly, “it’s going to be a long journey from here, but I believe you’re going to do just fine.”

I smiled back at her, feeling something close to peace settle into my bones.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just wait for me.”

I woke up in a bed, staring at a ceiling that did not feel familiar.

For a long moment, I felt utterly lost, as if my mind had arrived before my body. My limbs responded sluggishly when I sat up, and the lingering ache beneath my skin reminded me that what I had endured was not a dream. I rose, pushed the door open, and stepped outside.

Only then did I realize where I was.

An island floated in the sky, suspended impossibly by a colossal branch that pierced through stone and cloud alike. Smaller islets drifted nearby like scattered leaves, connected by bridges of light and roots grown into walkways. The air carried a faint scent of sap and ozone.

A Guardian and a Night Blade stood watch at the threshold. The moment they saw me, they snapped to attention and saluted in unison.

“Greetings to His Holy Majesty!”

I looked down at myself and realized I was wearing white robes, loose and clean, unmistakably the garments of a patient. Around us, players began to stir. Whispers spread, then shouts. Faces turned, eyes widened, excitement swelling like a wave about to crash.

I panicked.

Before anyone could close in, I fled, hastily transforming my clothing into something far more mundane. I slipped through corridors and platforms until the noise dulled behind me.

That was when Da Ji found me.

“Brother,” she said gently, falling into step beside me, “you should be resting.”

I stopped short and looked at her properly. She stood there whole and alive, despite having fallen to Yuan Shun during the rampage, while I had been trapped dealing with my counterpart. Seeing her like this tightened something in my chest.

“So,” I asked quietly, “how’s the war?”

“It’s over,” she replied. “We won. The Heavenly Temple surrendered immediately. Their own people turned against them.” She hesitated, then added, “I think when you resurrected them, you touched their souls. You inspired them to do the right thing.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” I said. “How about you?”

She grimaced faintly. “I’d rather not talk about it. This is a time for celebration, no?”

I frowned. “How long was I unconscious? Wasn’t the celebration over already?”

“Of course not,” a familiar voice interjected. “They’ve been waiting for you, my lord. And it hasn’t been that long since you collapsed.”

I turned sharply. “Dave!”

My Holy Spirit stood there as if he had never been gone. Relief surged through me. “Buddy,” I said, my voice breaking despite myself, “I’m glad you’re back.”

He smiled, calm as ever.

As the moment settled, a thought crystalized in my mind. The timing was right. Perhaps it was the only time it ever would be.

“Dave,” I said, more seriously now, “can you do me a favor and bring everyone here?”

He blinked. “By everyone, you mean…?”

“Family.”

I returned to the building reserved for me, the place where I had been recuperating since I lost consciousness, and waited.

They arrived one by one.

Alice came first, immediately sitting beside me without hesitation, her presence warm and grounding. Joan arrived next, politely escorted by Dave, her expression composed but searching. Nongmin followed, accompanied by Ren Xun, then Lin Lim and Liang Na together. Finally came Jue Bu and Ru Qiu, each arriving on their own terms.

The room felt full in a way no throne hall ever had.

Jue Bu broke the silence first. He bowed his head deeply. “I am sorry, Da Wei. I failed you. Gu Jie… I was unable to protect her.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. You did everything in your power. And besides, I don’t believe this is the end yet.”

Lin Lim cried out, anguish cracking her voice. “My son. What about my son?”

“Alive,” I said firmly. “That’s part of why I gathered all of you here. My disciples, and probably my daughter as well, have been scattered across the Greater Universe. I’m going to get them back.”

I drew in a breath before continuing. “That means abdicating the throne. You understand, right, Nongmin?”

Before Nongmin could even respond, Joan spoke up, her voice steady but sharp. “What about us?”

She did not need to elaborate. My promise to her and to Dave, to save their world, still stood between us.

“That too,” I replied. “We’re going to Losten immediately. I promised, didn’t I? Now that the war is over, we can finally focus on Losten.”

“I’m coming with you,” Alice said without hesitation.

I nodded.

Nongmin finally spoke, his tone strained. “Your Holy Majesty… no. David. You know what it could mean for the world order we fought so hard to gain… if you leave, right?”

Before I could answer, Ren Xun cleared his throat.

“I have a suggestion.”

I looked at him. “What is it?”

He pointed calmly at Jue Bu. “Since he looks like you, he’d do well as your body double, wouldn’t he?”

“...”

You could hear a pin drop.

Jue Bu immediately protested, his voice rising in disbelief. “Are you hearing yourself? Heh. I wouldn’t trust myself with anything, much less running the Hollowed World.”

Ren Xun did not back down. He folded his arms and looked around the room, clearly committed to seeing this through. “Just listen to me. If there’s someone who wouldn’t be leaving the Hollowed World anytime soon, it’s this guy.”

Jue Bu clicked his tongue. “That’s not a nice way to refer to my curse.”

Ren Xun continued anyway, unfazed. “Besides sharing Da Wei’s face, he actually has experience in governance. Didn’t you rule an entire layer of the Underworld back in your heyday?”

I had to admit it, even to myself. He was making far too much sense.

I turned to Nongmin. “What do you think?”

“It’s a sound assessment,” Nongmin replied after only a brief pause.

“I agree,” Alice added, nodding without hesitation.

Jue Bu stared at all of us as if we had collectively lost our minds. “I can’t believe this. All of you have gone crazy. Wait,” he added suspiciously, “is this perhaps the result of me finally gaining your trust?”

I faked a cough. “No. It’s just that we don’t have a choice. I trust the others to keep you in check, so cooperate with them.”

Of course, we couldn’t let him have it easy. I trust you, buddy. However, if we said something like that, it would get to his head. He muttered a string of curses under his breath before waving a hand. “Fine. Fine.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

Da Ji entered first, followed closely by Chen Wei and Wu Chen. Da Ji inclined her head apologetically. “Sorry. We had to settle urgent matters regarding the faith and the tree. I left things to Jia Yun for now.”

Wu Chen beamed as if the world itself had personally pleased her. “The tree’s feeling really happy lately.”

Behind them came Shouquan and Tao Long. Tao Long glanced around the room. “I hope we didn’t miss too much.”

“I’ve settled things with the Heavenly Temple,” Shouquan added. “They’ll have Heavenly Grace Tian En act as their representative from now on.”

Ru Qiu suddenly spoke, his tone cutting cleanly through the overlapping voices. “Let’s stay focused on the topic. Leaving the Hollowed World to venture beyond the Dark Veil, right? This is non-negotiable. I’m coming with you.”

The air grew heavy. Several gazes turned toward me.

I nodded. “You’re welcome to.”

Da Ji frowned immediately. “Me too.”

I shook my head. “This place will need you more, sister. When the day comes that I need your strength, I’ll call you.”

Liang Na raised the obvious question. “How many people are you bringing with you?”

“The fewer, the better,” I answered honestly.

Jue Bu let out an exaggerated sigh. “Enough with the gloomy talk. Didn’t we gather here to celebrate our victory and Da Wei’s recovery?”

I coughed again, this time a little more awkwardly. “Right. Anyway, do we still have a budget for parties? It’d be a shame if it’s just us. Maybe give bonuses to our hardworking citizens too, right?”

Ren Xun very deliberately avoided eye contact.

Nongmin stared at me, his gaze sharp enough to make it clear he was daring me to push my luck.

Tao Long coughed politely. “We can probably scrape together a small sum. We’re kind of poor though, so don’t expect much.”

I laughed. “Just kidding. I’ll handle it. It’s just quintessence, right?”

Food had never been my strong suit, and my tastes were anything but refined. Still, it was a fact I liked eating. I snapped my fingers and manifested shawarma out of quintessence, one for each person in the room.

“This is food from home,” I said. “I’ll try to recall more Earth food for a proper feast. My memory’s a mess right now, so bear with me. Also, don’t eat the plastic.”

Alice took a big bite, her eyes lighting up immediately. “Whoa. This is new.”

Seeing her enjoy something so simple, especially now that she was no longer a vampire, filled me with a quiet warmth.

We celebrated properly after that. I pulled from half-forgotten memories of Earth, shaping food out of quintessence until the long tables overflowed. There were burgers stacked high with melting cheese, pizzas cut into uneven slices, pastas drowned in sauce, and lechon with crackling skin that made even Liang Na pause in solemn appreciation.

People laughed more easily once food was involved. Jue Bu complained loudly while eating far more than anyone else. Ren Xun argued about toppings like it was a matter of statecraft. Tao Long ate quietly, eyes shining, while Wu Chen tried to figure out whether the tree would enjoy pizza. Since the war began, no one spoke of strategies, faith, or enemies. They spoke of taste, of memories, of things that did not hurt.

Alice sat beside me the whole time. She tasted everything with open curiosity, sometimes closing her eyes as if committing each flavor to memory. Watching her do that felt strange and precious. This was something she had been denied for so long, and now it was hers without consequence.

At some point, the noise softened into a comfortable hum. I leaned back slightly and allowed myself a single breath of rest. I closed my eyes.

For a brief moment, I saw them.

Lu Gao. Ren Jingyi. Hei Mao. Yuen Fu. Ding Cai. Ren Zhe. They were distant, scattered, but alive in their own ways.

I opened my eyes again.

Alice was staring at me, her eyes brimming with emotion she was no longer trying to hide. Her voice trembled, soft but firm, as she spoke.

“David, thank you. Really. For everything.”