Immortal Paladin

I had always thought I’d grown used to the scale of worlds and seen enough of them broken, stitched together, or erased outright that nothing should have surprised me anymore. Yet Losten lingered in my thoughts like an unfinished scar.

The World of Losten was a single supercontinent, its edges frayed into scattered archipelagos like torn parchment drifting on an endless sea. Compared to the Hollowed World, an amalgamation of fallen worlds from across the Greater Universe, it was small. Insignificant, even. But the damage carved into it by the Origin King… that was anything but small.

It had been thorough, methodical, and cruel in a way that didn’t simply destroy, but humiliate.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling of my office in New Willow, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. Trust. That was all I could offer them now.

Dave. Joan.

“I could only trust them to rebuild what was left… to lead Losten’s people back to something resembling dignity,” I muttered under my breath, the words tasting bitter. “And I threw them into it anyway.”

Dave had barely concealed his reluctance. He was never meant for a throne, or so he claimed. He was a warrior at heart, driven by the immediacy of battle. He wanted to act, and not govern. Joan was no different in her own way. Lately, she’d been showing great interest about the world at large, accumulating knowledge and making precious discoveries.

Not crowns and decrees.

And my daughter…?

I exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers against my temple.

“She looked at Joan like something had been taken from her,” I murmured. “And I was the one who took it.”

The silence of the office didn’t comfort me. It only made the weight of it all more apparent.

Paper rustled.

Too much paper.

Ugh…

Stacks of parchment covered every surface from my desk to the floor, and even the chairs meant for guests. The only reason I wasn’t buried alive under was because I kept shoving completed documents into my pocket dimension in batches.

I flipped another sheet over, scanning it with dull eyes.

There were simply too many matters that required me. Not Ezekiel. Not Jue Bu. Not anyone else.

Ren Xun had made sure of that.

I clicked my tongue in irritation.

Somewhere off to the side, Jue Bu lounged lazily on a couch that had no right being inside a workspace like this, brush in hand as he dragged ink across a canvas with effortless strokes.

“Ah, this is the life,” he said, not even looking at me. “While you drown in responsibility, I cultivate my artistic soul. Truly, I must thank you for this body of yours… such delicate hands, such natural talent.”

I didn’t even look up.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am,” he replied plainly. “It’s not often I get to rest without you dragging me into some catastrophic endeavor.”

Before I could respond, the door creaked open.

Ren Xun stepped in, already holding another stack of documents.

I stared at him.

He smiled.

“More paperwork,” he announced calmly, walking in as if he wasn’t delivering a death sentence. “And don’t shy away from bringing them with you to the Greater Universe later. You’ll have free time, regardless.”

I let my head fall back against the chair.

“I’m going to disappear one day,” I said flatly. “No warning. No explanation. Just gone.”

“You’ve said that before,” Ren Xun replied, setting the stack down in front of me with deliberate care. “You’re still here.”

“Unfortunately.”

I dragged one parchment closer, eyes scanning the contents.

I stopped.

My brow twitched.

“…Why,” I began slowly, “does this require my personal opinion?”

Ezekiel, seated at the adjacent desk, didn’t even look up as he continued writing.

Before he could answer, Ren Xun did.

“The bridge,” he said.

I turned the parchment around, glaring at it like it had personally offended me.

“What does building a bridge have to do with me?” I snapped. “Since when did I become a construction consultant?”

Ren Xun clasped his hands behind his back.

“The bridge connects to Losten,” he explained evenly. “Trade caravans. External factions. Various powers within the Hollowed World are expressing interest in establishing routes. They want your approval.”

I slowly picked up the parchment again, read it, and without hesitation, I grabbed a pen and wrote across it with sharp, aggressive strokes.

“They can shove their caravans up their own asses. No bridge.”

I shoved it toward Ezekiel and he accepted it without comment, placing it into a separate pile. For a brief moment, I considered summoning more of him. More Ezekiels meant more hands. More minds. Less work.

But then I remembered.

They’d started thinking.

I glanced sideways at him, feeling suspicious.

“They’ve been passing work back to me again, haven’t they…” I muttered. “Be honest with me, Ezekiel. Why do every time I summon more of you, a few would end up vanishing? Please tell me they’re not playing hooky on me.”

Ezekiel paused for half a second.

“That is correct. However, I believe ‘hooky’ is an inappropriate term. They are merely using there time more wisely.”

“On what basis?”

“They are… not confident in their decisions.”

I stared at him.

“You’re a hive mind.”

“That is also correct.”

“Then why is there inconsistency?”

“…Variations have emerged.”

I clicked my tongue.

Annoying.

Occasionally, one of them would feel sorry for me and actually take on more work, like the very Ezekiel besides me. Others? Useless. Entirely useless. I leaned forward, grabbing another document.

I stopped.

It was a different parchment, one marked with a seal I hadn’t seen in a while.

The Hollowed World Council.

My fingers stilled.

“…Jue Bu. Ren Xun,” I called, my voice quieter now. “Brief me on the current council members. Power dynamics. I want everything relevant.”

“Oh? You’re attending this time? For real?” A grin spread across Jue Bu’s face as he added almost too quickly. “That’s wonderful. That means I’ll have significantly more free time.”

I ignored him.

“I intend to open discussions about the World of Losten,” I said, my gaze settling on Ren Xun. “And I will prepare the Hollowed World for its descent.”

The words lingered, heavy. I leaned back slightly, folding my arms as I continued, my tone steady with quiet certainty.

“With the Hollowed Star and the Dark Veil combined, it should be possible to anchor Losten and guide it safely into the Hollowed World. There will be resistance from the structure of reality itself, and the strain on both systems will be significant, but with the resources currently under my control, I believe the process can be stabilized.”

Ren Xun did not interrupt me immediately. He allowed a brief silence to pass, as if weighing how to phrase what he was about to say. When he finally spoke, his voice carried its usual calm restraint, though there was a subtle firmness beneath it.

“It will be difficult,” he said. “The Cleanse policy may no longer be enforced, but that does not mean the perception of Outsiders has changed among the people.”

I frowned slightly, tilting my head as I looked at him.

“I am an Outsider,” I replied without hesitation. “Joan is one. Alice, Dave, Ru Qiu… most of the people who stood at the center of everything we’ve done are Outsiders. That hasn’t stopped anything so far.”

Ren Xun met my gaze evenly, unshaken.

“The people do not know that,” he said. “From their perspective, you are something else entirely. A heavenly being sent from above, a figure meant to enlighten mortals and liberate them from the tyranny imposed by the wicked powers that once ruled the Hollowed World.”

I blinked at him, unsure if I had heard him correctly. Then I let out a short, disbelieving breath, leaning back further into my chair.

“…What?”

The confusion was genuine. That explanation had come out of nowhere, completely detached from anything I remembered actually doing.

“I don’t recall ever presenting myself like that,” I said slowly. “If anything, I’ve done the opposite more than once. I’ve even considered picking a fight with heaven just to see what would happen.”

Jue Bu snorted softly from the side, clearly entertained, while Ren Xun remained composed.

Seeing my expression, he continued, his tone shifting into something more explanatory.

“It is a natural development,” he said. “Figures of your magnitude are rarely perceived plainly. Mount Qingshi has already become a sacred site. Locations where you have left even the faintest trace of your presence are being revered, some even worshiped. Stories grow, details distort, and meaning is imposed where there was none intended. Over time, a myth forms whether you approve of it or not.”

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face.

“That’s… excessive,” I muttered, though I didn’t sound particularly convinced it could be undone.

Rather than dwell on it, I pushed the topic aside. There were more immediate concerns to address, and indulging in the absurdity of my self-inflicted deification wasn’t going to help anyone.

“How are the Losten Heroes doing?” I asked.

The term still felt strange, but it had gained traction quickly. Players had started using it first, surprised to see what they recognized as former player characters appearing here as NPCs. From there, the stories spread, carried by both players and word of mouth, until the name stuck.

In a way, it worked in my favor. If the people of the Hollowed World already viewed them through a lens of legend, their integration would be smoother.

Ren Xun nodded slightly.

“They are doing well,” he reported. “At this point, they should be in the process of being introduced to Mao Xian, the Guild Leader of the Adventurer’s Guild. Initial reception appears favorable.”

That was one less problem to worry about.

A polite knock echoed from the door, cutting through the steady rhythm of paperwork and quiet conversation. I lifted my head, sensing the familiar qi on the other side, though there was a noticeable agitation within it.

“Shouquan, come in,” I called.

The door opened, and the old man stepped inside. His presence felt heavier than before, more refined and complete. The change was subtle to an untrained eye, but unmistakable to me.

I allowed a faint smile to form.

“Congratulations on reaching the Eleventh Realm,” I said. “Perfect Immortal. You’re only a step away now. Accumulate enough immortality, and you’ll ascend into a proper Ascended Soul.”

Shouquan gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand, though there was no hiding the quiet satisfaction beneath it.

“I am too old to chase such things aggressively,” he replied. “Traveling the Greater Universe in my current state would be more burden than benefit. I have yet to recover my peak strength, and I would rather not test my limits recklessly.”

He paused briefly, then straightened slightly.

“However, I am still capable of contributing. I would like to request a position… some form of work.”

That caught me off guard.

I studied him for a moment, considering the possibilities, but nothing immediate came to mind. His experience was valuable, but placing him incorrectly would waste that value rather than utilize it.

Before I could respond, Ezekiel spoke from the adjacent desk without lifting his gaze from the document he was working on.

“He could establish a sect in Losten,” Ezekiel suggested. “A foundation for cultivating practitioners native to that world.”

I turned toward Shouquan.

“Would you be willing to do that?” I asked.

He did not hesitate.

“I would not mind,” he answered simply.

I nodded once, decision made.

“Then I am formally assigning you to Losten,” I said. “Establish a sect, lay down a proper foundation for cultivation, and adapt it as necessary to suit the environment there.”

I pulled a sheet of parchment toward me, quickly writing an authorization order before handing it to him.

At the same time, another thought formed in the back of my mind. If Losten was going to integrate properly, it couldn’t rely solely on one system.

“I will also arrange for someone from Losten to teach their methods here,” I added. “Though integrating mana-based systems and the Transcendent Path with cultivation will not be simple. The differences are fundamental.”

Even as I said it, I could already see the complications that would arise.

I leaned back again, waving a hand dismissively.

“You’re dismissed, Shouquan,” I said. “Begin preparations immediately.”

Then I shifted my gaze toward the couch.

“Jue Bu, get over here and take over some of this paperwork.”

He didn’t even look up from his painting.

“I won’t fall for that,” he said lazily. “You just want to run away and leave everything to me.”

I clicked my tongue in annoyance, but didn’t argue further. He wasn’t wrong, and more importantly, he wasn’t going to budge.

With a quiet sigh, I pulled a fresh sheet of parchment toward me and began writing again, this time with a different purpose.

The letter was addressed to Archelon and Seraphe of Losten.

Alice had provided some guidance regarding mana and the Transcendence Path, but her perspective was inherently limited by her nature as a vampire. It was incomplete, skewed toward a single viewpoint.

If I wanted a proper foundation, I needed broader insight.

The leaders of the Light and Dark factions would have far more comprehensive knowledge at their disposal.

“Then I will take my leave,” said Shouquan, leaving my office.

Days blurred together in a slow, suffocating crawl, each one marked by the steady accumulation of parchment that refused to diminish no matter how much I processed. At some point, I genuinely considered abdicating from… whatever it was I had become. Ruler, overseer, problem-solver? None of the titles mattered when buried under endless decisions that only I was apparently qualified to make.

The office had grown quieter over time, though not entirely empty. Alice and Gu Jie would visit occasionally, their presence cutting through the monotony like brief, welcome interruptions. They never stayed for anything important, just enough to keep the atmosphere from becoming completely unbearable.

“You look like you’re dying,” Alice remarked casually,  her crimson eyes scanning the chaos of documents with mild amusement. “Is this what rulership does to people, or is this just a you problem?”

I didn’t even look up from the parchment I was signing.

“It’s a paperwork problem,” I replied flatly. “If I removed myself from existence, the paperwork would still be here waiting.”

Gu Jie tilted her head slightly, her voice softer but no less curious.

“Then why don’t you just… not do it?” she asked. “You don’t seem like the type to listen to anyone, father.”

I paused, the brush hovering just above the paper.

“That’s because, unfortunately, I am the one people are listening to,” I said. “Which makes ignoring it significantly more troublesome than it sounds.”

Alice let out a quiet laugh at that, while Gu Jie nodded as if she had learned something meaningful.

Despite the simplicity of these exchanges, I found myself appreciating them more than I expected. The strange family we had formed had become something I valued in ways I didn’t often articulate.

As I continued working, the reports themselves began painting a clearer picture of Losten’s war than I had seen while I was actually there. Distance had a way of revealing patterns that immediate involvement obscured.

The aftermath was… spreading.

Refugees had begun slipping into the Hollowed World through dungeon pathways, using unstable connections between worlds as escape routes. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but the scale of it did. Entire groups had taken root inside dungeons, carving out hidden settlements sustained by dungeon resources and monster remains.

It was clever. Desperate, but clever.

Dungeons were unpredictable, volatile environments where even minor fluctuations could result in sudden death. Even in LLO, a low-level dungeon could wipe out a careless high level player with ease. Translating that into reality only amplified the danger.

It really drove home how unforgiving that system had always been.

But what concerned me more wasn’t their survival methods.

It was what followed them.

Among the refugees, there had been incidents of small-scale Cleanses carried out in secret. Practices I had explicitly forbidden. The justification, as always, was buried under layers of distorted reasoning.

They weren’t seen as people.

Just remnants. Contaminants.

The reports detailing a rise in wicked cultivators only reinforced the pattern. Opportunists, predators, those who thrived in unstable environments? They had begun to surface more frequently.

I dealt with it in the simplest way available to me.

I issued a quest.

The players responded exactly as expected. When I offered early access to a “new map” as a reward, they descended upon the problem with enthusiasm that bordered on excessive. It was almost amusing how quickly they mobilized when properly incentivized.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before I sent them deeper into the underworld itself.

At the same time, I had the Guardians tighten security across key regions. Subtle adjustments, increased patrols, reinforced barriers. Nothing too overt, but enough to contain the spread before it became something larger.

Eventually, the day arrived.

The World Council.

The meeting was set at the base of the World Tree, where a city had begun to flourish in its shadow. The last time I had seen it, it was little more than a conceptual foundation. Now, it had grown into something tangible with structures rising in layered complexity and life threading through its expanding streets.

I took my time walking through it, observing without interfering. From there, I drifted toward the Hanging Islands still under development, their unfinished forms suspended in quiet defiance of gravity.

That was where Ru Qiu found me.

He approached without urgency, hands loosely at his sides, his presence as steady and oppressive as ever.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone edged with mild irritation.

“World Council,” I answered simply.

He clicked his tongue, clearly unimpressed.

“You’re still dealing with that?” he said. “How long are we supposed to stay here?”

I glanced at him briefly before looking back toward the distant structures.

“Be patient,” I said. “There are still a few things I need to finish.”

A faint smirk tugged at my lips.

“If you’re that eager to return to the underworld, you could always try flying there yourself.”

He turned his head toward me immediately.

“Then give me one of those flying vessels,” he said without hesitation.

I let out a quiet breath, already expecting that response.

“The one we used was a unique model,” I explained. “Extended warp range, customized framework. Even if you took the best Soaring Dragon vessel available, it would still take you many times over to reach the underworld base.”

Ru Qiu frowned slightly, though it was more annoyance than frustration.

I considered alternatives briefly, such as Egress combined with Divine Possession, perhaps even leveraging Ophanim, but I still had use for him here.

“Just be patient,” I said again, my tone shifting slightly. “I actually have something I need you to do.”

That caught his attention, if only marginally.

“I’ve been passing time hunting hostile Outsiders that slipped into this world,” he said. “But I’ll hear you out. If it’s interesting.”

I nodded once.

“I need you to scout False Earth,” I said. “Check the state of the Supreme Void. Confirm whether it’s truly dormant.”

My gaze hardened slightly.

“I don’t want any complications when I begin moving Losten.”

Ru Qiu’s expression shifted into something more confident, almost amused.

“I can do that,” he said. “On one condition.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Buy me a drink,” he added. “I don’t have any mortal currency on me.”

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I exhaled lightly.

“…Neither do I.”

Awkward silence settled between us.