Immortal Paladin

[POV: Hei Mao]

In the Greater Universe, time did not flow as neatly as mortals imagined.

Moments stretched. Days folded. Causality braided itself in strange patterns depending on where one stood. If Hei Mao were forced to measure it in something familiar, he would have said it had been a few days ago when he first heard of the mysterious bride-to-be of War.

The rumor alone was enough to make most souls lower their voices.

Near the outer perimeter of a black iron tower, two armored guards stood watch, halberds resting against their shoulders. They had no idea a flattened silhouette clung to the base of the wall behind them, folded thin as parchment.

“I am telling you,” one guard boasted, adjusting his helmet, “the moment she appeared, Lord War’s gaze changed. I have never seen it happen like that.”

The other snorted. “Love at first sight? From him? That is absurd.”

“Believe what you want. She was paraded through the lower districts. Pale as snow, eyes like glass. They say she was a recently perished soul, wandered in from some lower realm. Just another poor thing drawn into the Underworld.”

“Lucky poor thing,” the second guard muttered. “From wandering ghost to bride of War. That is one way to climb.”

Hei Mao’s shadow rippled.

A recently perished soul.

Wandered in.

Pale.

His heart had begun pounding the moment he heard the description days ago. When he later saw the palanquin pass through a distant plaza, curtains parting just enough to reveal her face, the world had narrowed to a single point.

It had been her.

With effort and patience, Hei Mao slipped past patrols and wards, folding himself across surfaces and seams, moving only when attention drifted. It took time, but eventually he reached the base of the tower where the bride was kept.

From the shadow at the tower’s foundation, he rose.

He leaned casually against the stone as though he had every right to be there, dragging along a small ox standing upright on his hind legs.

Ox-Head looked deeply unhappy.

“This,” Ox-Head muttered under his breath, “is the height of idiocy, Little Mao. Are you truly going through with this? Perhaps you saw incorrectly.”

“Shhh,” Hei Mao whispered, pressing a finger to his lips.

Security was lax.

No one in their right mind would dare offend War by attempting a rescue. The very idea was laughable. That arrogance had created gaps.

Hei Mao would not normally gamble like this.

But this was not normal.

“I know what I saw,” he said, voice firm despite the tremor in his chest. “That was my sister.”

When Yuan Shun perished, the consequences had been chaotic. It was possible that the resentment bound within his twin sister’s existence had been shaken loose. A wandering soul, drawn by forces beyond comprehension, might have slipped into the Underworld instead of returning to the Hollowed World’s reincarnation cycle.

If that was true, then his master would have searched and found nothing.

Because she was not there to find.

Hei Mao began climbing.

His form clung to the tower, slipping between physical surface and shadow, bypassing minor wards through sheer subtlety rather than force. At the summit, he crossed the final barrier and stepped into a dimly lit chamber.

She stood by the window.

She looked exactly like Yuan Shun had.

But her eyes were different.

They were softer, unburdened by the madness that once resided there.

Hei Mao’s breath hitched.

Tears blurred his vision before he could stop them.

“Who are you!?” she cried, stumbling back. “Stay away from me!”

Her voice cracked.

“I just want to go home… Mommy!”

Hei Mao flinched as though struck.

In two steps, he closed the distance and gently covered her mouth.

“C-calm down,” he whispered urgently. “I am here to take you away.”

He released his adult transformation. His taller, sharper form shrank, dissolving into the smaller, childlike body he once wore so often.

“It is me,” he said, eyes shining. “Your twin brother.”

She stared at him, confusion warring with instinctive familiarity.

There was no time to untangle memory and soul.

He took her hand.

And just like that, Hei Mao stole War’s bride.

—

Back in the present, beneath a dark sky far from the tower, a modest bonfire crackled.

Hei Mao sat cross-legged beside it, shoulders finally relaxing. Ox-Head sat nearby, arms folded, still grumbling under his breath but visibly relieved to be alive.

Between them sat Hei Mei.

She held a skewered piece of roasted meat in both hands, chewing enthusiastically, sauce smeared across her cheeks.

“Whoa~!” she exclaimed brightly. “Delish!”

She ate messily, like a child who had known neither court etiquette nor divine terror.

How could a ghost eat?

Hei Mao did not understand the mechanism behind it. He had been a ghost long enough to know that hunger was usually metaphorical, a craving tied to obsession rather than sustenance. Yet Hei Mei sat before the bonfire, happily chewing on skewers of roasted mushrooms and meat as though she possessed a perfectly functioning mortal stomach.

Somehow, that simple sight warmed his ghostly heart.

Ox-Head, currently in his humanoid form, sat across from them with his arms resting on his knees. The flickering light cast long shadows across his stern features. After a while, he asked carefully, “Your twin sister is an adult by human standards, is she not?”

Hei Mao sighed.

He understood the doubt behind the question.

Hei Mei’s body was fully grown, the same age she had been when Yuan Shun perished. The resemblance was unsettling. Every time Hei Mao looked at her face, memories overlapped: the gentle sister he remembered and the madwoman who had once worn that skin like a stolen robe.

The implication gnawed at him.

What were the chances Hei Mei had still been alive, trapped somewhere inside, when Yuan Shun took control? Had she watched helplessly from within her own body?

The thought made his chest ache.

Yet the way she sat now, reminded him painfully of their childhood.

“Sorry, Ox-Head,” Hei Mao murmured. “It is complicated. I do not think I can explain it properly.”

Ox-Head exhaled slowly. “She faces a difficult road ahead.”

Hei Mao’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

Ox-Head did not sugarcoat his answer.

“This is likely your first encounter with this type of existence,” he said. “A proper term would be ‘half-ghost’ or ‘lost soul.’ That is what your sister has become.”

Hei Mao stiffened.

“Listen carefully,” Ox-Head continued. “Ghosts cannot undergo inner change. Even if you alter your appearance to that of an adult, you remain a child at heart. Even if you act serious, even if you mimic maturity, your essence remains fixed. This is just one example. You are bound to the obsession that defines you. That’s the law.”

Hei Mao looked away.

He knew that better than anyone.

“But your sister is different,” Ox-Head said quietly. “She is suspended in limbo. She can neither reincarnate nor ascend. She cannot dissipate, cultivate, or be resurrected through ordinary means.”

Hei Mao instinctively reached inward, consulting the Ghost Soul that anchored his own existence.

It did not respond.

A trace of panic flickered across his face before he suppressed it. The Ghost Soul had likely been damaged when he was resurrected. Something fundamental had shifted, and he did not yet understand the cost.

He straightened stubbornly.

“We do not know that for certain,” he said with forced confidence. “You know my master. He can do anything.”

Ox-Head shook his head gently. “Be realistic, Little Mao. You have not told me much, but I can sense that something significant happened.”

Hei Mao’s shoulders slumped.

“There was a war in the Hollowed World,” he admitted. “I think we won. I might have died near the end.”

The understatement concealed a storm of anxiety.

If he had not found Hei Mei, he would have already begun searching for a way back to the Hollowed World while staying hidden from hostile forces. Now, he was effectively a wanted criminal in War’s territory.

He had stolen a bride from a Horseman.

Hei Mei suddenly leaned toward him, holding out a skewer. “Brother, why are you not eating? Try some!”

Hei Mao grimaced at the sight of the roasted frog threaded between mushrooms.

“N-no, I am fine,” he said quickly. “I do not need to eat anymore. Watch.”

He attempted to bite down, letting the frog phase through his mouth theatrically. He could have faked chewing, but the sensation of amphibian texture, even simulated, was something he preferred to avoid.

Ox-Head gave him a flat look.

Hei Mao coughed awkwardly and turned the conversation. “Ox-Head, what do you think War wanted from her?”

Ox-Head shrugged. “With beings like him, it could be anything.”

Hei Mei beamed suddenly.

“Oh, War?” she said brightly. “He is a funny guy. He said he wanted to make babies with me.”

The bonfire crackled.

Hei Mao’s expression froze.

“But that is silly,” she continued innocently. “Everyone knows babies come from divine storks.”

A faint tremor rippled through the air.

Hei Mao’s aura began to leak unconsciously, sharp and frigid. The ground beneath him darkened slightly as shadow gathered at his feet. He caught himself at the last second, forcing the pressure away from Hei Mei with deliberate effort.

She remained blissfully unaware.

“He said we were going to play house,” she went on, tilting her head. “Or maybe it was called a wedding? I told him no, but he kept talking and talking. He is very annoying.”

Hei Mao’s qi screamed silently within him.

He inhaled slowly, forcing calm into his voice.

“What else did he tell you, Mei’er?”

Hei Mei grinned brightly, leaning closer to the firelight.

“Oh, oh! He showed me a good time, brother—”

Hei Mao’s head snapped up.

“What good time!?” he demanded, voice rising dangerously.

She blinked at his intensity. “Lots of food, games, and other funny people!”

Hei Mao exhaled sharply.

For a brief, terrifying second, he had been one step away from losing his mind and storming War’s fortress alone. The shadows around him, which had begun to writhe in agitation, settled slightly.

Hei Mei continued cheerfully, entirely unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

“Look, brother! He even gave me this cool book with weird poses. He said it was to educate his future wife. He is such a funny guy! But he must not know I already promised you that I would marry you if you never found anyone to take care of you.”

Hei Mao froze.

Even for a ghost, his complexion managed to pale.

Slowly, mechanically, he turned his head toward the suspicious object in her hands.

It was bound in dark leather, filled with extensive illustrations inside.

Hei Mei flipped it open proudly and held it up for inspection. The pages were filled with entangled humanoid figures arranged in positions that were very much not wrestling.

“Look, brother!” she said innocently. “They are wrestling!”

Ox-Head leaned over for a glance and blinked in surprise.

“Oh,” he said after a pause. “That appears to be a romance manuscript. A guide on how to please a man. I did not expect to encounter such literature in this corner of the Underworld. Horse-Face used to maintain an entire collection of similar works until Lady Meng Po burned them all to ash.”

Something inside Hei Mao snapped.

“I AM GOING TO KILL THAT FUCKER!” he shrieked. “RIP AND TEAR! RIP AND TEAR, I DARE SAY!”

Shadow exploded outward from his feet, forming jagged tendrils that lashed at the air. The bonfire guttered violently as killing intent flooded the clearing.

A small blob-like black cat suddenly clung to his leg, wrapping itself around his ankle with desperate determination.

“Nya!” it cried urgently.

Ox-Head lunged forward and grabbed Hei Mao’s other arm.

“Little Mao, calm yourself!” he barked. “It will do us no good if you charge blindly into War’s domain. He is a Horseman. You are already a wanted fugitive. Do you intend to doom your sister the moment you rescued her?”

Hei Mao struggled, claws extending involuntarily as shadows sharpened around his fingers.

“He gave her a pleasure manual!” Hei Mao roared. “I will turn his fortress into rubble!”

Ox-Head tightened his grip. “Listen to yourself! This is precisely what he would expect. You storm in, he crushes you, and then what becomes of her? If you care about your sister, you must think, not react.”

Hei Mei, meanwhile, continued flipping through the pages with fascinated curiosity.

“Oh! This one looks difficult. Do you think it hurts? Why are they both smiling? Brother, do you want to try wrestling like this? It looks complicated.”

Hei Mao made a strangled noise that did not resemble anything human.

Ox-Head leaned closer, lowering his voice to a firm but steady tone. “Little Mao, breathe. You cannot protect her if you lose control. War may be many things, but he did not harm her. If he had, you would know. Your rage is understandable, but do not let it consume you.”

Hei Mei tilted her head. “Why are you both so serious? War said marriage means sharing snacks and sleeping next to each other so no monsters eat you. That sounds nice.”

Hei Mao’s shadows trembled again.

The black cat squeezed his ankle tighter.

“Nyaaa,” it insisted, as though personally invested in preventing mass slaughter.

For a long moment, Hei Mao stood there shaking, fury and helplessness colliding inside him. Then, faintly, the Ghost Soul within him stirred.

It projected something soft.

Cool.

Calm.

The raging shadows slowly withdrew, sinking back beneath his feet.

His breathing steadied.

Ox-Head cautiously released his arm but remained ready to intervene again.

Hei Mao’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

“War,” he said, eyes dark as a starless sky, “you piece of shit. You are dead to me.”

Hei Mei blinked, confused. “But he is already very alive?”

Hei Mao did not answer.

Instead, he gently but firmly took the “cool book” from her hands.

He stared at it for exactly three seconds.

Then his claws extended.

Shadow condensed around his fingers, forming razor-thin edges. With meticulous precision, he shredded the manuscript into microscopic fragments. Pages dissolved into strips, strips into dust, dust into nothing as his shadow techniques minced every last indecent illustration into oblivion.

The final scrap disintegrated between his claws.

Hei Mao exhaled slowly.

“No more wrestling manuals,” he muttered darkly.

Hei Mei stared at the empty space where her “cool book” had once been.

Her lower lip trembled.

Then she inhaled.

“BROTHER!” she wailed at full volume. “You destroyed my cool stuff!”

Hei Mao flinched as if physically struck.

“You are so mean!” she continued, stomping her foot. “That was a gift! You always say gifts are important! You are a hypocrite!”

“I— it was not appropriate!” Hei Mao protested weakly, already regretting everything.

Hei Mei’s eyes filled with tears. “I did not even finish looking at the wrestling moves!”

She threw herself onto the ground dramatically, rolling once before sitting up and crying at maximum intensity. The bonfire crackled awkwardly in the background.

Ox-Head pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Little Mao,” he muttered, “you might want to reconsider your approach to emotional management.”

“I was protecting her innocence!” Hei Mao hissed defensively.

“She is currently screaming loud enough to summon a patrol,” Ox-Head replied flatly.

As if summoned by narrative timing itself, a violent plume of dust erupted just a short distance away from them. The shockwave scattered pebbles and sent the bonfire sputtering. Debris flew through the air, and Hei Mei’s crying paused mid-wail out of sheer surprise.

Ox-Head’s expression sharpened instantly.

“This is strange,” he said, stepping forward. “I sense Conquest’s presence… but it feels subdued. Weaker. Altered.”

Hei Mao immediately moved in front of Hei Mei, one arm extended protectively. His shadows pooled beneath his feet, ready to react.

Ox-Head drew his battle axe in one smooth motion.

When the dust began to settle, the sight before them was… confusing.

Da Wei stood there.

Over a woman dressed in white.

He was kicking her.

“M-Master?” Hei Mao croaked.

Ox-Head blinked several times.

“What in Meng Po’s soup?” he muttered. “Is that Conquest’s daughter? No… that aura… that is definitely Conquest. But I distinctly remember that monster being an ugly, sorry, bald piece of acne. How did he end up like this?”

The woman on the ground looked nothing like the withered embodiment of pestilence they had encountered before. She appeared refined, pale, and sharp-eyed, though currently flattened under Da Wei’s foot.

Da Wei nudged her again.

“I told you already, Pestilence,” he said irritably. “Shoo. I have no use for you. Go find a quiet corner of the universe. Start a farm. Infect some crops. Live peacefully or something.”

The woman clutched at his pant leg.

“Please do not abandon me!” she cried. “I will be useful! I can spread plagues with precision! I can devastate cities selectively! I can manage sanitation disasters!”

“I do not need sanitation disasters!” Da Wei snapped. “Why are you still here? Did I not conquer you already? That was supposed to be the end of it!”

She crawled closer, ignoring the dirt smeared across her face.

“Allow me to serve! I will work tirelessly! I will reduce entire continents to manageable populations upon request!”

Da Wei looked genuinely distressed.

“This is escalating in the wrong direction,” he muttered.

Only then did he notice the stunned trio staring at him.

He froze.

One foot was still planted squarely on the woman’s face.

“Uhmmm…” he began slowly. “This is not what it looks like.”

Pestilence seized the opportunity to hug his ankle.

“Supreme Bearer, please reconsider! I have nowhere else to go!”

“Pestilence,” Da Wei said through clenched teeth, attempting to shake her off, “for the love of all that is good, leave me alone. Hey. Stop biting my shoe.”

Hei Mao’s mouth opened and closed several times.

Ox-Head lowered his axe slightly but kept it ready.

Hei Mei sniffled, then pointed.

“Brother, why is that weird dude bullying that pretty lady?”

“I am not bullying her!” Da Wei protested immediately.

Pestilence pressed her forehead to the ground in exaggerated supplication.

“I will work hard!” she declared passionately. “I will do anything to please you! I will relinquish my mind, my body, and my soul if that is what you require!”

Da Wei stared at the sky as if questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

“This,” he said faintly, “has spiraled far beyond my expectations.”