Immortal Paladin

[POV: Hei Mei]

“Praise be to the divine protector!”

“Lord Wei saved us again!”

“Luminary’s Rest shall stand eternal under his light!”

The voices of the residents rose in waves beneath the towering statue, their gratitude fervent and unrestrained. Some knelt. Others wept openly. A few simply stared at the holy skeletons patrolling the perimeter, awe written plainly across their faces.

Hei Mei sat quietly at the base of the statue, her back resting against the cold stone.

She looked up at the carved likeness of Da Wei and felt… uncertain.

Cultivators were scary.

It was a thought that had rooted itself deep within her and refused to leave. No matter how radiant the miracles, no matter how gentle the promises, that fear lingered like a shadow that would not disperse.

After all, cultivators had been the cause of her suffering.

She remembered the night her family died.

She remembered being taken away to a hidden place.

She remembered the moment her body had been usurped.

She remembered the atrocities committed with her own hands while she watched helplessly from somewhere deep within.

Those memories did not ignite fury in her.

They birthed helpless despair.

In the fragile refuge of sleep and self-delusion, she had chosen to believe none of it had been real. She let her mind retreat to a simpler time, back to when she was merely Hei Mao’s twin sister, running through fields and laughing without understanding the cruelty of the world.

But at her core, she knew the truth.

“Mei’er, what are you doing here?”

Hei Mao’s voice was warm, and when she looked up, she saw him smiling. The meeting must have just ended.

She tilted her head slightly. “Brother, when are we going to meet Mom and Dad?”

The smile on his face faltered. The pain was immediate and visible.

It was a cruel question.

She knew it was.

“How long are you going to stay with Da Wei?” she asked instead, her voice softer but insistent.

“Mei’er,” Hei Mao said gently, “there’s nowhere else to go.”

She shook her head. “Brother, there’s a world beyond this, right? I heard stories about the Wheel of Reincarnation. Maybe if we—”

“It’s gone,” Hei Mao cut in quietly. “I’ve been there. Meng Po’s realm. The Bridge of Forgetfulness. I’ve seen the Wheel of Reincarnation myself.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re lying!” she shouted, emotion surging uncontrollably. “You’re just going to leave me, aren’t you?”

It was unfair.

It was irrational.

But ghosts were not known for reason.

If anything, Hei Mao was the strange one for retaining so much clarity.

He stepped closer, his voice strained. “You don’t have cultivation. Your essence is closer to your untainted state than when Yuan Shun stole your body. There’s still a chance for you. I spoke to Master about it. His miracles could save you. He could resurrect you.”

His hands trembled slightly.

“You could live again. Grow older. Fall in love. Maybe even cultivate as a human. You could have a future, Mei’er.”

“No!”

Her voice rang sharper than she intended.

Ghosts were pitiful existences, forever anchored to the past. That truth applied to both of them.

To Hei Mao, she was still the little sister from before the tragedy. He clung to that image, hoping resurrection would untangle the obsession buried deep within his ghostly core.

But Hei Mei was trapped at a different moment in time.

She was frozen at the instant her body had been stolen.

Hei Mao pulled her into an embrace, wrapping them both in his red scarf. The fabric fluttered, and in the next instant, they vanished from the square, leaving behind curious stares.

When the world settled again, they stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Underworld.

Jagged lands stretched endlessly beneath a sky of ashen gloom. Resentment and despair seeped from the terrain itself.

Behind them, Luminary’s Rest glowed faintly like a small star in the darkness.

“Master can resurrect you now,” Hei Mao said quietly. “Before they leave for Losten.”

“Stop, Brother.”

Her voice was firm now, steadier than before. She turned to face him, and for once, the childish lilt in her tone faded.

“I understand why you want this for me. The joy of humanity is precious. A ghost like me shouldn’t be able to feel it again.”

She lowered her gaze briefly.

“But I remember everything. Yuan Shun’s knowledge is still inside me.”

She looked back up, resolve hardening in her eyes.

“Brother, I want to walk the path of cultivation with you. Let me do this.”

Hei Mao exhaled shakily. “Do I even have a say in this?”

She gave a small, determined smile.

“Redemption is my goal. The evils Yuan Shun committed with my body… her karma… I want to shoulder them.”

The wind howled softly along the cliff’s edge.

In the distance, Luminary’s Rest flickered against the vast gloom of the Underworld. It was small and fragile.

But it was possibility.

And Hei Mei fixed her gaze upon that light, silently vowing that one day she would be strong enough to stand within it without fear.

…

..

.

[POV: Horse-Face]

“Leaving already?” Ox-Head asked.

Horse-Face adjusted the strap on his shoulder armor and nodded. “Time is precious.”

Ox-Head frowned. “At least see the others off properly. Hei Mao’s been worried about you.”

Horse-Face let out a short laugh. “More like you’re worried about me.”

The wind swept across Luminary’s Rest, tugging faintly at the hem of his robes. In the distance, the city still buzzed with life, skeletal guardians patrolling in disciplined silence.

“I’ve been hiding in that graveyard of worlds for a long time,” Horse-Face continued. “Biding my time. Watching. Waiting. I knew I made the right call.”

He glanced toward the central district where Da Wei’s presence could still be faintly felt.

“With Da Wei at our backs, even just as a support base, I feel more secure pursuing my own doubts. You know me, Ox-Head. I’ve always believed in the cause. Unlike Lady Meng, who was adamantly against relying on a dubious supreme existence from some other dimension.”

He paused briefly.

“Now? I stand corrected. They are an anomaly that cannot be ignored.”

Ox-Head’s expression hardened. “What convinced you? This is sudden. The way you’re talking… it sounds like you’re preparing to betray him.”

Horse-Face shook his head. “No.”

His voice lost its humor.

“As much as I hate admitting it, Da Wei is a good man. When I said anomaly, I was referring to the nature of his power.”

Ox-Head’s gaze sharpened.

“We couldn’t sense it clearly before,” Horse-Face continued, lowering his voice slightly. “The gap in realms was too vast. But now? Surely you’ve caught a clearer whiff of it.”

Ox-Head winced. “You’ve always been annoyingly sharp.”

He folded his arms.

“Yes. You’re right. It’s the fact that he abandoned the path of a sage so decisively, isn’t it? He cast it aside in favor of that latent supremacy trait he awakened.”

Horse-Face’s eyes narrowed.

“Depending on how you look at it,” Ox-Head continued, “the power he now wields is insidious. You won’t perceive it as malicious. In fact, you’ll feel the opposite. In his presence, there’s a sense of familiarity. Sympathy. A desire to trust him. To understand him.”

He exhaled slowly.

“The Six Paths would only have constrained that. They would have gotten in the way.”

Horse-Face gave a faint nod.

“There’s more to it,” Ox-Head added quietly.

Horse-Face did not elaborate.

He didn’t need to.

It was the eyes.

Not only Da Wei’s.

The daughter’s as well.

A deeper current pulsed beneath their existence. Something older. Something that predated the cultivated systems of this era.

The ancient Shén had wielded a similar terror once, though under different names. In fragmented records, it was sometimes referred to as Origin Art.

A power that shaped belief before belief was even formed.

Horse-Face kept those thoughts to himself. In a place like this, one never knew who might be listening.

As if summoned by the thought, Gu Jie appeared.

No longer the toddling infant she had once been, she floated forward with composed precision.

“They are about to depart,” she said evenly. “Lord Ox-Head, if you may.”

Ox-Head inclined his head. Then he turned to Horse-Face. “You coming?”

Horse-Face shook his head. “No. I have somewhere else to be.”

Without another word, his form shifted. Flesh elongated, features distorting into his true equine-headed visage. His body surged with underworld qi as he leapt forward.

In the next instant, he blurred into motion and vanished across the bleak horizon, leaving Luminary’s Rest and its growing light behind him.

…

..

.

[POV: Fan Shi]

Whispers drifted through the dark courtyard like restless spirits.

“Have you heard? The Seventh Heavenly Demon, Wei Bao, has already taken control of three divisions.”

“Hah, control? More like he’s scrambling for scraps.”

“And what about that outsider and his master? The ones personally recommended?”

“I heard the old man was nothing special back in his original sect.”

“And the disciple? Just a pampered stray picked up on a whim.”

“They say even Lord Ru Qiu barely acknowledges them.”

Fan Shi stood quietly beneath the eternal night sky, her sleeves fluttering faintly in the cold wind. The planet Lord Ru Qiu had chosen knew no dawn, only an unending canopy of dim stars and drifting clouds of yin energy.

Beside her, Jiang Zhen stroked his beard and sighed. “Don’t think too much about them, disciple.”

Fan Shi smirked faintly. “I bet you’re more bothered than I am.”

She folded her arms behind her back, rocking slightly on her heels.

“As for me? I got used to it when you picked me as your disciple back in the Sect. Do you know how much I suffered from isolation? Being singled out for special treatment? It wasn’t easy making friends back then.”

Her smile widened mischievously.

“Hah. It’s good to see you suffer a little too, Master.”

Jiang Zhen snorted. “You unruly brat. You’re getting more and more spunky by the day. Or I guess, in this case, by the night.”

He glanced up at the darkened heavens.

“This place has nothing but eternal night. I wish Lord Ru Qiu had chosen a plane where at least a distant sun existed.”

Fan Shi tilted her head thoughtfully. She suspected the choice had more to do with Hei Mao’s affinity for shadow techniques and the yin-based cultivation methods favored by the denizens of the Underworld. This place have a the perfect environment for cultivation.

“Master,” she corrected gently, “not planes. Planets. Or worlds. If it’s a plane, it ought to be flat, right?”

Before Jiang Zhen could respond, a killing intent flared.

One of the cultists stepped forward without warning and struck.

Jiang Zhen reacted on instinct, pulling a shovel from his storage ring and parrying the blow with a metallic clang. Even so, the impact sent him staggering. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Fan Shi rushed to support him, fury igniting in her chest.

Laughter erupted around them.

“Look at these two clowns.”

“Sixth Realm trash daring to speak so casually.”

“How dare you refer to the Supreme Heavenly Demon by name?”

The mocking grew sharper.

“Know your place!”

Fan Shi gritted her teeth. Every single one of them was at least Seventh Realm. Some were far stronger. She and her master were only Sixth Realm cultivators.

The Heavenly Demonic Cult preached the supremacy of strength.

But to attack without warning?

Her Mage Legacy stirred within her, clashing against her Sixth Realm cultivation. Arcane patterns flickered faintly around her fingertips. Her techniques were unfamiliar to this world. If she struck decisively, she might land a meaningful blow before they adapted.

Just as she prepared to move, a calm voice cut through the tension.

“A bunch of fools.”

The air seemed to freeze.

“You call yourselves the Heavenly Demonic Cult, yet you live off a fragmented legacy. I imagine you don’t even know that your order’s true name is the Heavenly Divine Cult. Do you understand the difference?”

Gu Jie floated forward, her expression indifferent.

“This cult only came into existence because of your worship of the Heavenly Demon. The truth is, the Heavenly Demon does not care about you in the slightest.”

Her gaze swept across them.

“The only reason you are here is because of my recommendation. I thought your lot might prove useful. Clearly, I overestimated you.”

Her voice sharpened.

“What little remains of your faction is nothing more than a group of losers clinging to the glory of a supposedly perished supreme existence.”

The camp erupted.

“How dare you!”

“Arrogant brat!”

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

A Ninth Realm cultivator stepped forward, face twisted in rage. “Little girl, you should watch your mouth—”

He never finished.

A corpse puppet clad in white appeared soundlessly behind him. Its veiled face betrayed no emotion. Pale hands seized his skull.

With a single, horrifying twist, his head turned unnaturally.

Bone snapped.

Limbs were torn free in a spray of dark blood before his body even hit the ground.

Silence descended like a guillotine.

Gu Jie’s voice was chillingly composed.

“Just so you know, I have been within the real Heavenly Demonic Cult of the Hollowed World. I even received a few instructions from your beloved Heavenly Demon.”

Her eyes gleamed faintly.

“I may be lacking in cultivation at the moment due to certain circumstances. However, does anyone here wish to test their skills against my corpse puppet?”

No one moved.

The weight of her killing intent was absolute.

Jiang Zhen leaned toward Fan Shi and whispered, “It makes me question why Lady Gu recommended us for this expedition. But seeing her like this… it comforts my heart to know someone is watching over us.”

Fan Shi exhaled slowly, the tension draining from her limbs.

“I couldn’t agree more, Master.”

Jiang Zhen nodded solemnly. “We must cultivate more diligently.”

Fan Shi stared at the blood pooling beneath the corpse puppet’s feet and silently vowed that the next time someone dared to laugh at them, she would not need protection.

…

..

.

[POV: Wei Bao]

The title of Seventh Heavenly Demon had once filled Wei Bao with pride.

Now, it felt hollow and meaningless.

That was the lesson he had learned the day he was punished by that existence.

He had overestimated himself. Back then, he had looked at Ru Qiu, venerated within the cult and wielder of the dark sun, with thinly veiled ambition. In his heart, he had even entertained the thought of stealing Ru Qiu’s Immortal Art if the opportunity ever arose.

He had believed himself clever, indispensable, and favored.

He had been shown his place instead.

The memory alone made his jaw tighten.

So when word reached him that members of the Heavenly Demonic Cult were causing trouble again, Wei Bao did not dare delay. His figure blurred through the corridors, demonic qi curling around his robes as he rushed toward the source of the disturbance.

He never made it.

A woman stepped into his path.

Purple hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, and her dark violet robes shimmered faintly under the lantern light. Two corpse puppets stood silently behind her, their expressions obscured, their presence suffocating.

“Oh my, oh my,” she chimed mockingly. “Wei Bao’s in such a hurry.”

Wei Bao forced his expression into neutrality.

“What do you want, Zhu Chin?”

After all, it was not only the Heavenly Demonic Cult that had gathered here. Smaller factions had flocked to this plane, eager to ingratiate themselves with Lord Ru Qiu after witnessing his Immortal Art shake the heavens.

The Heavenly Demonic Cult had held an early advantage. They had recognized the dark flames immediately. The symbol of the dark sun had long been etched into their doctrine.

But Wei Bao’s greed and his attempt to assert himself before the ruler behind Ru Qiu had cost them dearly. Reputation. Authority. Influence.

All diminished.

Zhu Chin covered her lips as she laughed.

“It seems the Eternal Undeath Cult will be taking the lead from here. Ho ho ho ho… We’ve only sent three practitioners, yet perhaps we should begin a takeover, no?”

Wei Bao scoffed coldly. “I’d love to see you try.”

So that you can be crushed and learn your place, he thought darkly.

Zhu Chin’s eyes narrowed. “I see. So the rumors are true. You were beaten black and blue, weren’t you?”

Wei Bao’s heart skipped.

Rumors?

Who had been careless?

Was there a leak within his ranks?

Zhu Chin leaned closer, her smile widening. “Our cult’s child of prophecy is a disciple of this city’s owner. Do you understand what that means? We will leave your Heavenly Demonic Cult in the dust. Hohohoho~!”

She turned sharply, her corpse puppets gliding after her as her eerie laughter echoed down the corridor.

Wei Bao’s nails dug into his palms.

When he finally arrived at the cafeteria where the commotion had occurred, his breath nearly stopped.

Bodies.

Dismembered bodies.

Limbs scattered across the floor. Blood smeared across tables and walls. Groans of agony filled the air.

Every cultist present had been torn apart.

One subordinate, miraculously left intact, stumbled toward him and whispered what had happened.

Wei Bao swore under his breath. “Idiots!”

His voice trembled with restrained fury.

“Call the demonic physician. Have them treated immediately. Reattach what can be reattached. Restore what can be restored.”

He scanned the room sharply.

“Where did Lady Gu go?”

The subordinate swallowed. “S-she said… she would grant you an audience. If you apologize to those who were offended.”

Wei Bao froze.

“Apologize?” he repeated incredulously.

To that old man?

And his Sixth Realm disciple?

They were barely worth noticing!

Humiliation surged through him like poison.

But just as quickly, another memory surfaced.

Lord Ru Qiu’s warning.

If he misbehaved again, he would die.

Wei Bao closed his eyes briefly, suppressing the storm within his chest.

This was no longer about pride.

It was about survival.

When his eyes opened again, the arrogance had been carefully buried beneath forced composure.

“…Prepare a gift,” he muttered coldly.

If an apology was required, then he would apologize.

…

..

.

[POV: Gu Da, average citizen]

Gu Da had been nothing more than a farmer.

A simple man.

He had lived in a quiet countryside village where the soil was rich and the seasons predictable. His greatest concerns had once been rainfall and pests.

Then demons came.

They tore through the village like a storm of claws and fire. He remembered screaming. He remembered running. He remembered dying.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the Underworld.

Chaos greeted him.

The dead did not rest peacefully there. They struggled. They devoured one another. Stronger ghosts preyed upon weaker ones, and the weak clung desperately to whatever scraps of safety they could find.

He had been terrified.

By some miracle, by sheer, inexplicable fortune, he survived those early days. He scavenged. He hid. He fled whenever the wind carried the scent of something stronger than himself.

Other races often called humans a blessed race, favored by luck.

Gu Da would not argue with that.

He must have been lucky.

Otherwise, how could he have stumbled upon Luminary’s Rest?

The city had risen like a dream in the endless gloom, a beacon where holy skeletons patrolled and monstrous ghosts dared not approach. For the first time since his death, Gu Da had felt something resembling peace.

He adjusted the crates beside the stall he helped maintain and greeted a fellow resident with a friendly nod.

“Morning shift again?” he asked casually, though there was no real morning in the Underworld.

The other man chuckled. “If you can call it morning. At least the holy ones keep the big nasties away.”

Gu Da smiled. “I’ll take boring peace over exciting terror any day.”

Life in Luminary’s Rest settled into a rhythm. Work. Conversation. Small repairs to damaged structures. Occasional awe at the sight of divine miracles lingering in the air like a blessing.

It was peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

“What? Be grateful, woman! I could’ve done worse!”

The shout shattered the calm.

“Hah! None of this would’ve happened if there was a brothel somewhere in this damned city!”

Gu Da turned.

A mercenary, one of the few who had retained some cultivation after death, stood in the street, sneering. A woman lay on the ground before him, her cheek bruised and swelling.

In the Underworld, material and immaterial overlapped. Even ghosts could suffer injuries that felt disturbingly real.

The mercenary flashed a wooden badge proudly.

“I was just accepted into the militia!” he declared. “You should be ashamed you can’t even properly serve a loyal warrior of Lord Da Wei!”

Murmurs rippled through the bystanders.

“Idiot…”

“Utter fool.”

“Does he not understand where he is?”

“The new guy’s got a death wish.”

The mercenary’s grin faltered slightly.

He grabbed Gu Da by the sleeve and demanded, “You. Why are they reacting like this? Isn’t being a soldier the highest profession here? Look at War’s territory—”

He never finished.

A holy skeleton appeared behind him and punched him squarely in the jaw.

The crack echoed.

Before he could even hit the ground, two more holy skeletons materialized. The three of them descended upon him in perfect, disciplined coordination.

They kicked.

They stomped.

They punched.

The mercenary curled into himself like a shrimp, arms over his head, howling in pain.

Ironically, radiant healing spells flared continuously from their bony hands, mending broken bones and torn flesh just enough to keep him conscious.

A fourth holy skeleton approached the injured woman. Gentle golden light enveloped her as the bruising faded. It helped her to her feet with surprising care.

Then it turned.

And joined the other three.

“Mom! Mommy! I was wrong!” the mercenary wailed between sobs. “Please! Have mercy! I won’t do it again!”

The skeletons continued their righteous education.

Gu Da watched, blinking slowly.

No one intervened or protested.

Instead, a few residents resumed their tasks as if this were routine.

Gu Da scratched the back of his head and muttered, “Well… that never gets old.”

The woman, now fully healed, gave him a faint, embarrassed nod before hurrying away.

Meanwhile, the poor guy who just flaunted his authority continued to receive his beatings.

“AAAAAAAH—WAIT, WAIT, I’M SORRY—MY LEGS, NOT MY LEGS—WHY ARE YOU HEALING ME JUST TO BREAK THEM AGAIN—MOTHER, SAVE ME—LORD DA WEI, I’VE SEEN THE LIGHT—PLEASE, I DON’T WANT TO SEE IT ANYMORE—AAAAAAAH!”

Gu Da sighed, scratching my chin.

“Hm. Welcome to Luminary’s Rest, the City of Hope, I guess…”