Immortal Paladin

It had been a few days since the rebuilding efforts of New Risendawn began.

The ruined city slowly transformed each day. It was not fast enough to restore the former capital in its entirety, but the change was undeniable. Where there had once been only shattered walls and collapsed streets, people now moved with purpose.

Ezekiel had taken it upon himself to teach the church members how to wield divine power. I had not explicitly ordered him to do so, but the decision made sense. If this world was going to survive, it needed people capable of fighting back.

Rebuilding the entire city with our current numbers would have been an impossible task.

Instead, I summoned more Ezekiels and assigned them to handle the bulk of the physical labor. Clearing debris, moving collapsed stone, and reinforcing foundations. Tasks that would normally take dozens of workers were completed by tireless holy skeletons who never needed rest.

Even then, manpower remained a constant problem.

The pilgrims stepped in to fill the gaps wherever they could. Many of them had lived ordinary lives before the fall of their homes, and some possessed valuable skills.

A group of dwarves and several humans stepped forward early on to offer their expertise in masonry and architecture.

One of the dwarves, a stocky fellow with a braided beard, slapped a stone block proudly and declared, “Leave the walls to us! If we’re rebuilding this place, we’ll remake it into the greatest stronghold this world has ever seen!”

A human architect standing beside him nodded enthusiastically. “A fortress capable of withstanding siege engines, demons, and anything else the Great Enemy throws at us.”

Another dwarf chimed in with a grin. “By the time we’re done, even the gods will have trouble knocking these walls down!”

I let them do as they pleased.

Instead, I left Ox-Head to supervise them.

He seemed almost offended by the implication that he was merely a guard.

“Do you take me for a glorified gatekeeper?” Ox-Head scoffed loudly. “Back in the Underworld, I helped maintain the Bridge of Forgetfulness itself!”

He planted his massive axe into the ground with pride.

“Do you know how many souls cross that bridge every day? Tens of thousands! If the structure failed, the entire cycle of reincarnation would fall into chaos. I’ve spent centuries repairing, reinforcing, and maintaining it.”

The dwarves looked impressed.

Ox-Head folded his arms smugly.

“So yes,” he finished with a booming voice, “I know a thing or two about building things that last forever.”

With construction mostly handled, I assigned Ru Qiu to patrol the surrounding region.

He traveled regularly through the lands around New Risendawn, mapping the terrain, hunting monsters, and occasionally bringing back food for the settlement.

A few days later, he returned with a rolled parchment.

“I finished surveying the nearby territory,” he said, placing the map in front of me.

As he spoke, he pointed to several markings.

“There’s a nest of Ironback Wolves about fifteen kilometers east. A pack of Bone Raptors roaming near the old riverbed. I also encountered a lone Stone Troll in the northern slopes.”

Each of those monsters was familiar to me. They were creatures I remembered clearly from the game. Honestly, it was amazing how Ru Qiu was able to name them so accurately. He definitely did his homework.

Ru Qiu pushed the parchment toward me.

“I drew the map myself,” he added casually.

I studied it carefully.

The layout of the land immediately caught my attention.

“I thought it was just my imagination,” I muttered, “but the changes weren’t subtle even the last time I was here.”

From the rubble of the city archives, I had recovered an old regional map.

Placing it beside Ru Qiu’s drawing revealed the differences immediately.

“The forest west of the city is gone,” I said slowly.

“Completely vanished.”

I pointed to another area.

“The northern mountains used to be standard highlands. Now they’re a snowy alpine range.”

“Correct,” he confirmed.

I traced a finger further south.

“The sea that used to be here…”

“Desert now,” Ru Qiu finished. “I know.”

I leaned back in my chair.

Only one region had grown instead of disappearing.

“The eastern forest expanded dramatically,” I said.

Ru Qiu nodded again.

“It’s at least three times larger than what your old map shows.”

I sat comfortably at the small table inside the church while Ru Qiu occupied the seat opposite mine.

Anna stood nearby, pouring tea for both of us with quiet professionalism.

Somehow, she had gradually taken on the role of my secretary, or perhaps more accurately, the elected representative of the pilgrims. She served as their voice whenever concerns needed to be brought to my attention.

Ru Qiu accepted the cup reluctantly and glanced at me with mild irritation.

“Must be nice,” he said dryly. “You get to sit around drinking tea while I run patrols across monster-infested wilderness.”

He took a sip before adding sarcastically, “Real tough job you’ve got there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you so on edge lately? Just so you know, I’m busy too.”

There was a reason for that. We needed military strength as quickly as possible. This qi-less world severely limited what I could do compared to before. Back in the past, I had been able to fight an entire Hell’s Gate alone while still technically just a Demi-God, the equivalent of a Tenth Realm cultivator.

The reason was simple.

Qi.

As long as qi flowed through my body, I could fight almost indefinitely.

The cultivation system of the Longevity Path allowed practitioners to nourish themselves with qi, enabling endless combat and continuous use of abilities. Without qi, even powerful cultivators quickly became exhausted. That limitation was precisely why the World of Losten had managed to resist the Great Enemy for so long.

In a qi-less environment, their enemies lost one of their greatest advantages.

I set the map aside and looked at Ru Qiu.

“I’m busy building a curriculum,” I explained.

He frowned.

“For what?”

“For the newly ordained Paladins,” I replied calmly. “The ones I created with my Immortal Art.”

If this world was going to survive the coming war, then New Risendawn needed more than walls.

It needed an army.

There were many among the pilgrims who showed promise.

Some of them already carried the seeds of a Legacy within them. A handful had been minor priests, wandering knights, hedge mages, or temple attendants before the world collapsed. Their abilities had withered during the long centuries of suffering, but the foundation remained.

When I granted them the Paladin Legacy through my Immortal Art, many of them awakened dual classes almost immediately.

That part went smoother than expected.

The real problem was something else entirely.

“How am I supposed to power level them?” I muttered, tapping the table lightly.

Ru Qiu glanced up.

“In this era,” I continued, “there’s a serious lack of leveling grounds.”

In the age when LLO had still been a functioning world filled with kingdoms and guilds, adventurers could find monsters, dungeons, and quests everywhere. Progression had been natural.

Now, however, the world was broken.

Dangerous monsters existed, but organized training environments were rare.

I looked at Ru Qiu and added, “Surely you feel it too? Even our Immortal Arts are weaker while we’re in this world.”

Ru Qiu gave a slow nod.

The difference was impossible to ignore.

If things were the way they used to be, I could simply pour faith power into my followers. Ideally, I would raise the new paladins under my command to at least the Seventh or Eighth Realm, what the NPCs used to call the Legendary rank.

Back in the False Earth, I had raised my guardians to the Fourth Realm purely through faith power alone. Once they left that artificial world and entered a place with real qi circulation, their growth skyrocketed.

Here, however, things were different.

“I’d love to do the same here, but the conditions aren’t right.” I added with a tired sigh, “Right now, I can’t even afford to leave the city.”

Ru Qiu raised an eyebrow.

“Because?”

“Because I’m busy stabilizing the power of faith.”

That part alone was a full-time job. Faith from the pilgrims and residents constantly flowed toward me like invisible streams of energy. If left unmanaged, the energy would disperse randomly or overload me entirely.

“I need to crystallize the faith gathering around me and redirect it toward the city,” I explained. “Otherwise the energy flow becomes chaotic. So yeah, I understand if you think I’m slacking off, but no. I’m actually extremely busy.”

Parsing the prayers of hundreds of believers was harder than most people imagined.

Every prayer carried emotions of hope, fear, gratitude, and despair. Imagine how tough it had been for me back in the Hollowed World.

All of it arrived together like overlapping voices inside my mind.

Their faith was strong, and while the burden remained manageable, it was still something I had to handle carefully. I had learned that lesson the hard way during the Empire’s civil war. The Heavenly Temple had once tried to tamper with my faith network to twist me into becoming an evil god.

If I lost control again, the consequences could be catastrophic.

Ru Qiu leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m a bit tense lately.”

I waited.

“The lack of qi in the air,” he continued with a faint scowl. “Not being able to breathe it in naturally… it’s making me paranoid.”

That was understandable. For cultivators, breathing qi was as natural as breathing oxygen. Without it, everything felt wrong.

Ru Qiu suddenly looked at me again.

“So,” he said casually, “have you heard anything about that… Ezekiel?”

I had assigned the main Ezekiel to train the church members in divine combat techniques and basic miracle usage. If the trainees showed exceptional compatibility, I planned to elevate them into Paladins using my Immortal Art.

Ru Qiu tapped the table lightly.

“Also,” he added, “what’s this rumor about you and Jue Bu having a son?”

I choked on my tea.

When it came to unexpected topics like this, I was incredibly easy to catch off guard.

I coughed violently.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Ru Qiu looked amused.

Now that he mentioned Jue Bu, I found myself wondering how that guy was doing.

Jue Bu had been surprisingly useful back in the Hollowed World. He understood the language system of this world, which allowed him to communicate with people like Joan and Alice. Eventually, he was able to teach them the language of the Hollowed World as well.

Still, the rumor Ru Qiu mentioned was completely ridiculous.

“That’s a misunderstanding,” I said quickly.

Ru Qiu leaned forward with interest.

“I created Ezekiel with Jue Bu’s help through magic,” I explained. “My holy spell combined with Jue Bu’s magical essence during the casting.”

I gestured slightly as I spoke.

“That fusion produced the spell, Summon: Holy Spirit Ezekiel.”

I shrugged.

“It was only later that the Holy Spirit developed wisdom and a personality of its own.”

Across the table, Anna suddenly froze. She looked completely stunned. Her wind spirit fluttered excitedly around her head like a tiny green flame dancing in the air. She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

I frowned slightly.

“Is there a problem, Anna?”

She shook her head immediately.

“None, my lord,” she said reverently. “I am simply struck with awe at your greatness.”

I sighed internally. I doubted I would ever get used to this level of reverence.

Ru Qiu took another sip of his tea before asking casually, “Where are Gu Jie and Joan?”

“That’s a good question.”

I rubbed my chin.

“Apparently, they’re working on something related to dungeon research.”

Ru Qiu blinked.

“Dungeon… research?”

“Yeah,” I replied, shrugging helplessly. “It sounded serious, but honestly, I have no idea what that even means.”

Ru Qiu frowned slightly after hearing my explanation. “Is this really a time for academic pursuit?”

“If my daughter thinks it’s important,” I replied, “then it’s definitely important.”

Ru Qiu stared at me for a moment before letting out a long sigh.

“Yeah,” he muttered, sounding resigned. “I get it.”

If there was anyone among us who could truly be called the busiest, it was probably Joan.

Ever since she discovered several alchemists among the pilgrims, she had immediately started organizing an alchemy workshop inside the ruined church district. Bottles, herbs, salvaged equipment, and improvised furnaces had begun appearing everywhere. Joan moved through the place like a woman possessed, issuing instructions and recording recipes with obsessive focus.

On top of dungeon research, yeah, she’d definitely be busy.

Compared to her, even my workload seemed modest.

The sudden shout shattered the quiet moment.

“Father! Faaather!”

Gu Jie came flying toward us through the open street, hovering in the air before stopping right in front of me. She was still wearing the pink dress Alice had forced on her, which made the situation look far less serious than the panic in her voice suggested.

I raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

She looked genuinely rattled.

“An enemy!”

Her voice trembled slightly as she continued.

“Father, I am sorry. It seems I was unable to see it in time—”

Before she could finish, the sky exploded with a violent surge of energy.

Ru Qiu moved instantly, his body blurring upward like a launched arrow as he rushed toward the sky. I followed closely, dashing in the main street.

A single figure hovered high above the city ruins. The energy surrounding him felt incredibly dangerous. It was neither mana nor qi. I knew that feeling. It was Origin Qi!

The figure spread his arms dramatically in the sky as if performing on a stage.

“I am the Herald,” he declared loudly. “Behold my grandeur—”

Ru Qiu reached him before he could finish. Dark flames exploded around Ru Qiu’s fist as he drove a punch straight into the man’s face.

The Herald blocked it with one palm and sneered coldly.

“Pathetic weakling—”

A massive shadow appeared above him. Ox-Head descended from the sky like a falling meteor, swinging his enormous battleaxe with terrifying force.

The Herald raised one arm to block.

The impact detonated like thunder.

Even though he managed to intercept the blow, the force overwhelmed him instantly and sent him crashing into the ground below. The earth exploded outward. A massive crater formed as dust and shattered stone erupted into the air.

When the debris cleared, the Herald still stood inside the crater. He had pale skin and an unsettlingly calm expression. Behind his back extended a single wing made of silver feathers.

I immediately spoke through Qi Speech.

“Don’t let him breathe a word.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Joan declared sharply.

She appeared behind the Herald and unleashed a chain of spells almost instantly.

“Halo of Restriction. Chains of Restraints. Silence.”

Glowing rings and spectral chains wrapped around the Herald’s body, binding his limbs and sealing his voice. The Herald flexed his Origin Qi, and the restraints shattered instantly. The halo cracked apart, and the chains burst into fragments of fading light. However, the Silence spell still held for the moment.

That was enough.

I activated Zealot’s Stride and Divine Speed simultaneously.

The distance between us vanished in an instant.

Starshroud awakened around me.

The armor manifested with a burst of radiant energy, its ancient spirit stirring from slumber. Shrill laughter echoed faintly within my mind as the living armor expressed her excitement.

In my hand, Silver Steel ignited with brilliant light.

“Immortal Art,” I declared calmly. “Godslayer.”

The Herald’s expression changed as he realized just how badly the situation had turned against him. He formed a quick hand sign with his right hand, while he sacrificed his left arm to block my sword. His left arm was cut off cleanly as Silver Steel cleaved through it effortlessly.

Blood scattered through the air as the arm fell to the ground.

Using that single moment of delay, the Herald launched himself backward in a desperate retreat. With his remaining hand, he swept his arm in a wide arc. Every feather on his wing tore free simultaneously.

The moment the Silence spell finally broke, his voice rang out.

“Origin Art: Heavenly Soaring Swords.”

Hundreds of silver feathers froze in midair and transformed. Each feather reshaped itself into a gleaming sword of death.

“Take him alive,” I ordered firmly.

The storm of swords rushed toward us like a bursting constellation of silver blades. Each one hummed with condensed Origin Qi, sharp enough that even the air around them screamed as they cut through it.

I raised my hand.

Through my Divine Zone, I cast Halo of Restriction again and again.

Silver rings of divine light appeared around each incoming sword, wrapping them one by one. The halos froze the weapons midair as my Divine Qi flooded through them, locking the swords in place like insects trapped in amber.

Hundreds of suspended blades now floated motionless around the battlefield.

The Herald’s eyes widened.

“What? How is that possible?” he shouted in disbelief at me. “You sealed Heavenly Soaring Swords with an inferior technique?!”

However, his suffering was only starting.

Ru Qiu answered him with violence.

“Immortal Art: Defying the Heaven’s Decree.”

The sky dimmed as an eclipse manifested above him. Dark flames spiraled outward, shaping themselves into enormous draconic forms that coiled around Ru Qiu’s body. The fiery dragons roared silently as they gathered power.

The Herald tried to react, but his swords remained locked in my halos.

Ru Qiu struck.

The dragons surged forward one after another, slamming into the Herald with catastrophic force. Explosions of black flame erupted around him as each dragon crashed into his body, focusing especially on his legs and wings.

Ru Qiu clearly intended to cripple his mobility.

The Herald endured the barrage, though the effort was obvious. Dark embers licked across his pale skin, leaving burns and scorched flesh. His clothes had already been reduced to charred fragments, and blood streaked down his side.

Joan stepped forward calmly.

“Divine Authority of Ephryn.”

Her entire presence changed.

Radiant power poured from her body as her appearance transformed. Her golden hair shone like sunlight, and her priestly robes shifted to reveal more skin, the divine garments rearranging themselves into something far more ceremonial and powerful.

For a brief moment, she truly resembled a goddess descended from heaven.

She raised her hand.

“Empower: Halo of Restriction.”

Seven enormous halos materialized around the Herald simultaneously.

The rings slammed into place one after another, locking his arms, legs, torso, and wing in a perfect prison of divine light.

He was trapped.

Ox-Head did not waste the opportunity.

“Immortal Art: Warden of the Brass Bull!”

His body transformed midair.

Flesh hardened into gleaming brass as his form shifted into the terrifying shape of a massive bull forged from metal. The giant creature descended from the sky, hovering directly above the Herald like an executioner’s hammer.

Ox-Head pushed downward with one enormous palm.

“Be crushed!”

Gravity surged violently. The ground beneath the Herald collapsed inward as a second crater formed beneath him. The pressure forced him deeper into the earth, his body pinned beneath the overwhelming force.

I walked toward him slowly, ignoring the gravity.

“Let’s try that again.”

I looked down at him.

“Who are you?”

The Herald glared at me with burning hatred.

“When I heard a resistance was forming here,” he snarled, “I assumed the monkeys decided they wanted to keep fighting back.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw someone like you who seemed to possess the power of heaven.”

He bared his teeth at me.

“You must be a Heavenly Being like me, right? Don’t underestimate me, you trash! I’m not just a Heavenly Being, and I swear... If I get out of this, I will kill all of you! I can sense the power of heaven from you. Ah, you must be a mutant. How do you have the power of heaven within you? And there’s even a Lost God here.”

Then he twisted his head slightly toward Ox-Head.

“You fucking ox! Let go of me, traitor!”

There were many things I wanted to ask him. The meaning behind Heavenly Being. The technique he called Origin Art. The implications behind everything he had just said. But one word had already ignited something inside me.

“Monkeys?” I repeated slowly.

My voice felt strangely calm.

“Did you just call them monkeys?”

Around us, people had begun peeking out from behind rubble and broken buildings. Pilgrims and residents stared nervously at the captured Herald while several Ezekiels formed a perimeter around the battlefield.

The Herald laughed mockingly.

“Of course, they are monkeys,” he said with contempt. “A bunch of primitive animals playing civilization. You people barely crawled out of the dirt, and now you think you deserve to stand among higher beings. Yes, that must be it! You stole the heavenly power that dwells within you, didn’t you?”

I sighed.

I stepped further inside the area affected by Ox-Head’s gravity field.

The pressure immediately intensified.

Ox-Head panicked.

“Da Wei, that’s reckless—”

His voice stopped abruptly when he realized I was completely fine. I walked through the crushing gravity as if it were nothing. I crouched beside the Herald, levelling my eyes to his.

My hand moved casually.

*Smack.

The slap echoed loudly. One of his teeth flew through the air before landing somewhere in the dust. The Herald stared at me in shock as his cheek swelled rapidly.

“Y-you—”

I found myself angrier more often than I liked these days. It probably wasn’t healthy. But this guy had truly managed to piss me off. I grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground before planting my boot firmly on his skull.

“Monkey?” I repeated.

I pressed his face deeper into the dirt.

“Monkey!?”

Then I leaned down slightly so he could hear me clearly.

“Then you must be an amoeba that evolved into a monkey with chicken feathers.”

I gestured toward the surrounding ruins.

“This is New Risendawn.”

My boot pressed harder.

“And we don’t have monkeys here.”

I paused briefly.

“Well,” I added flatly, “maybe except you.”