Immortal Paladin

The low basin was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, as though even the wind had chosen to avoid the place. Liang Na stood at its edge, her gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of the Origin King’s palace, its towering structure cutting into the horizon like a scar that refused to heal.

Her mission had been simple in design, yet absolute in execution. She was to ensure that when the front lines reached their decisive phase, nothing of value would escape from the Origin King’s grasp. No fleeing generals. No hidden treasures. No last-minute retreats that could preserve strength for a later resurgence. Everything here was meant to be cornered, contained, and ultimately erased.

The intelligence network she had built in Losten had been refined for this exact purpose. Every informant, every scout, every hidden channel of communication had been woven together into something precise and efficient. She had even gone as far as requesting support from the Guardians’ Three Constellations, a decision that had not been made lightly.

Su Ai stood a short distance away, her bow resting casually in her hand as if it were an extension of her body. Her presence was sharp, contained, like a drawn arrow that never quite relaxed. As someone called the Hunter Constellation, she possessed power matching her grandeur.

An Eighth Realm Longevity cultivator, and at the same time a Quasi-God Transcendent, she was the kind of force that could decide the outcome of entire engagements with a single, well-placed shot.

Of course, Liang Na was no slouch, considering her more superior cultivation.

After the war’s major engagements had slowed, Su Ai had remained with Liang Na’s unit, turning her attention toward hunting down remnant Origin Gods and stray Outsiders that lingered like embers refusing to die out.

Now, however, there was nothing.

Su Ai glanced toward Liang Na, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“Any new orders?” she asked.

Liang Na shook her head.

“None,” she replied.

The absence of new orders had begun to make her restless. Months had passed, and yet there had been no significant movement, no runners attempting escape, and no desperate gambits from the remnants of the Origin King’s forces.

It was too quiet.

“They didn’t forget about us… right?” she muttered under her breath, the doubt slipping through despite her usual composure.

Her gaze shifted briefly, scanning the basin where her unit had set up camp. The group was an assortment of individuals that would have seemed mismatched anywhere else from an orc sitting cross-legged while sharpening a blade, an elf and a dark elf arguing in low voices, a gnome perched atop a crate, animatedly gesturing as he spoke.

Their conversation drifted across the camp in fragments.

“I heard the coronation’s already being prepared,” the gnome said, his voice filled with curiosity. “The Sacred Sword and Lady Dawn, right? New monarchs of Losten.”

“About time,” the orc grunted. “War’s nearly done anyway.”

“Do you think we can attend?” the elf asked, glancing toward Liang Na. “Wouldn’t mind seeing history firsthand.”

Several heads turned toward her, their expressions ranging from hopeful to indifferent.

Liang Na met their gazes calmly.

“That depends on whether we receive new orders,” she said. “We move when we are told to move.”

It was a simple answer, but it settled the question for now.

Before the conversation could drift further, a low hum cut through the air. Shadows shifted as something descended from above, drawing every eye upward. A Soaring Dragon vessel hovered overhead, its structure adapted to function within Losten’s qi-deficient environment.

It didn’t stay long.

An Ezekiel stood at the edge of the vessel, his expression neutral, his presence unmistakable.

“New orders,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly across the basin. “All units are to return to New Risendawn immediately to act as the security detail for the coronation ceremony of the new rulers of Losten. This will be your final mission. Accept it with grace.”

Liang Na kneeled, answering solemnly. “I accept.”

The vessel lifted again almost as soon as the message was delivered, disappearing into the sky as abruptly as it had arrived.

Silence followed.

Then the reactions came.

“That’s it?” the dark elf said, brows furrowing. “Final mission?”

“Sounds like we’re done here,” the orc added, though his tone carried uncertainty rather than relief.

“Or discarded,” someone else muttered.

The mix of optimism and pessimism spread quickly, tension threading through the group as speculation began to take root.

Liang Na stepped forward, her presence alone enough to draw their attention back into focus.

“Calm yourselves,” she said evenly. “You won’t be thrown away like useless hounds, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

In truth, the outcome was predictable. Their unit had proven its effectiveness. There was no reason to dismantle it when it could be repurposed.

More likely, they would be absorbed into the Holy Ascension Empire’s broader intelligence network.

Two factions already dominated that space. The Night Blades, led by Ye Yong, and the Shadow, led by Hei Yuan. Both operated as extensions of the Empire’s unseen hand, though their methods and histories differed greatly.

The Night Blades held the advantage in visibility and favor. As honorary Guardians, they maintained a direct connection through Jue Bu, the Holy Emperor’s double. The Shadow, on the other hand, relied on its long-established foundation and its link through Hei Mao, the Emperor’s disciple, though that connection had weakened with his sudden disappearance along with the other five disciples.

Rumors had begun to circulate recently that Hei Mao had been found.

A few members of her unit exchanged glances before one of them spoke up.

“If we do get absorbed,” the elf asked carefully, “which side should we support?”

Another voice chimed in.

“Yeah, Captain. Night Blades or Shadow?”

Liang Na’s expression remained unchanged, though her gaze sharpened slightly.

Both factions had already approached her in the past, each attempting to secure her support. Her position, her perceived closeness to the Holy Emperor, and the success of her operations made her a valuable asset in their quiet struggle for dominance.

It was precisely why she had chosen to remain distant.

Losten had been an escape from that.

For a brief time, at least.

She exhaled softly before answering.

“You should learn to think for yourselves,” she said, her tone firm but not harsh. “Decide based on what aligns with your own judgment, not mine.”

She turned slightly, her attention shifting toward the vessels stationed at the edge of the basin.

“Prepare the Soaring Dragon vessels,” she continued. “We’re leaving.”

The conversation ended there.

…

..

.

[POV: Ru Qiu]

In the end, Da Wei did not buy him a drink.

“Stingy bastard.”

So he left.

Still, he decided to abide by his request.

Sneaking at the Sun and Moon was not a new experience for him. He had done it before, enough times to understand the risks and the rhythm required to slip through unnoticed. His presence blurred as he activated his Immortal Art, the subtle distortion of existence bending around him.

Defying the Heaven’s Decree.

With it, he obscured himself from the Sun’s perception, threading his existence through the gaps that should not have existed. The Moon was more troublesome, its nature more elusive, but as long as he remained careful and deliberate, it would not catch him.

The transition was seamless.

He descended toward the False Earth, his figure cutting through the void until the world below began to take shape. The pull of gravity reached for him immediately, a silent force attempting to drag him down into its domain.

Ru Qiu resisted instinctively, halting his descent midair.

Then he felt it.

His cultivation was violently suppressed.

His expression shifted slightly as he hovered there, maintaining a careful distance from the planet’s surface.

“That’s… unpleasant,” he muttered under his breath.

The world was barren in a way that felt wrong. It wasn’t simply lacking qi. Instead, it was deprived of it to such an extent that even his existence felt out of place. The longer he lingered, the more he could sense the danger of becoming trapped, of being dragged into a state where escape would require far more effort than it was worth.

It reminded him of Losten.

That same suffocating absence of qi.

Under normal circumstances, a world like the False Earth should still possess enough qi for its inhabitants to cultivate, at least to the Fourth Realm if they had the talent. That was the baseline.

This was far below that.

His eyes narrowed slightly as realization settled in.

“It really is asleep…” he murmured.

The Supreme Void had been forced into slumber by Da Wei.

A faint scoff escaped him.

“That son of a bitch,” he added, though there was a trace of reluctant acknowledgment beneath the insult. The first time Da Wei had mentioned it, Ru Qiu hadn’t believed him. It sounded too absurd, even by their standards.

And yet, here it was.

He maintained his altitude carefully, never allowing himself to drift too close. The gravitational pull wasn’t something he feared on its own, but combined with the suppression of his cultivation, it became a different matter entirely.

If he got pulled in, escaping would become… complicated.

Even with his reserves of quintessence, even with his methods, it would not be clean. His Supremacy Trait could likely force a way out, but relying on that meant gambling with variables he had no interest in testing.

So he stayed where he was, observing.

A short distance away, he spotted signs of life.

A budding civilization.

His gaze lingered there, curiosity flickering briefly across his otherwise composed expression. It was… peaceful. No signs of war, no overwhelming presence of destruction. Structures were forming, patterns emerging. Primitive, but deliberate.

“Renaissance stage, perhaps,” he mused quietly.

It was an odd sight.

Another detail caught his attention soon after.

Time.

He stilled slightly, focusing.

“…Consistent,” he noted. “Unlike before.”

There was no distortion, no irregular flow. Time moved evenly, aligned with the Hollowed World rather than fractured like it once had been.

That alone confirmed enough.

There was nothing more to gain by staying.

Without hesitation, Ru Qiu turned away from the False Earth, his figure dissolving into motion as he ascended back toward the greater expanse.

By the time he returned to the Hollowed World, night had already settled. 

It had probably been several days, since he left, but he couldn’t tell.

The World Tree loomed in the distance, its presence as overwhelming as ever, its branches stretching across the sky like veins of reality itself. The Hanging Islands drifted around it, some complete with facilities, others still under construction.

He found Da Wei there, issuing commands and working the construction site of all things.

“How did your World Council go?” Ru Qiu asked.

Da Wei didn’t stop what he was doing, though his expression shifted into something mildly irritated.

“Rather badly,” he replied. “I put them into recess. We’ll try again in a week.”

He paused briefly, then added with a faint grimace.

“Rumors are spreading that I’m a fake. The irony, right? Some are even calling me a tyrant. They’ve started bringing up stories about my ‘evil counterpart’ again. It’s becoming a pain in the ass.”

Ru Qiu shrugged slightly, unimpressed.

He didn’t care.

Instead, he raised a hand, condensing quintessence into a scroll that formed seamlessly in his grasp. The contents were embedded within it from his observations, his conclusions, and everything Da Wei needed.

Without ceremony, he tossed it over.

Da Wei caught it easily.

“Thanks,” Da Wei said, glancing at the scroll before looking back at him. “There’s a coronation coming up. Dave and Joan. It’s also going to be a wedding.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“You should come.”

Ru Qiu considered it for a moment, his expression unreadable.

He still hadn’t gotten his drink.

But lately…

Things had been less dull.

“…Maybe,” he said at last, the faintest hint of interest slipping through. “I will think about it.”

…

..

.

[POV: Da Wei/David]

I had definitely bitten off more than I could chew.

Forcing Losten into the Hollowed World had sounded straightforward when it was just theory and power in my hands, but reality had a way of complicating even the most absolute intentions. The Primaries had made their stance clear, and they had not been subtle about it. Five out of the six stood against the idea, and that alone was enough to stall everything.

It didn’t matter that I could force it through.

Power wasn’t the issue.

They were.

These were people I had acknowledged, leaders who carried the weight of entire factions, individuals whose cooperation formed the foundation of everything we had built. Overriding them would defeat the entire purpose of the World Council.

I exhaled quietly, my grip tightening slightly on the wheel of the Soaring Dragon vessel.

“If five out of the six of you don’t want it, then you don’t want it,” I muttered under my breath. “But I’m not letting it end there.”

Compromise was the goal for now.

If I couldn’t make them see things my way, then I would make them see enough to meet me halfway.

Ren Xun had supported me, his vote carrying the weight of one of the Six Primaries, but even that wasn’t enough to tip the scales. One voice against five was still just one voice.

Alice had already told me the truth of it, sharing me her political experience.

My chances were bleak.

Yet here I was, still pushing forward.

“Hopefully, this coronation shifts something,” I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.

Not far from me, Ren Xun stood beside Lin Lim, the two of them looking out across the vast expanse of Losten as it unfolded beneath the vessel. The scenery stretched endlessly, a world scarred yet enduring, its broken lands slowly reclaiming something resembling life.

“It’s peaceful,” Lin Lim remarked softly.

Ren Xun nodded faintly.

“For a world that has endured such tyranny, it recovers quickly,” he said. “Or perhaps… it has simply been waiting for the chance.”

Ru Qiu, meanwhile, had no interest in any of it.

He sat off to the side, carving a small figurine with deliberate precision, his attention fully absorbed in the task. The faint scraping of his blade against the material was steady, almost rhythmic, as if everything else around him simply didn’t matter.

And me?

I was driving.

The Emperor of the Holy Ascension Empire, reduced to piloting a vessel.

I let out a quiet breath through my nose.

The passage between the Hollowed World and Losten had been opened, allowing members of the World Council to witness the state of Losten firsthand. If words weren’t enough, then perhaps reality would be.

Traffic through the World Tree pathway was overwhelming.

Beasts of all sizes, ornate carriages, artifact-based transports, and vessels like ours filled the space, moving in layered streams of controlled chaos. It looked less like a diplomatic mission and more like a grand migration.

Naturally, I had the Guardians handling security.

There was no chance I was letting the players take that role.

That didn’t stop them from getting involved.

A few vessels drifted close to ours, their occupants openly staring.

Then came the commentary.

“Wait, is that him?”

“No way. Why is the Emperor driving his own boat?”

“Did he lose a bet or something?”

“Bro, imagine ruling a whole empire and still being the driver.”

Laughter followed.

I kept my eyes forward, though I could feel the faint twitch at the corner of my expression.

“…Should I suspend their accounts?” I murmured quietly.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

It would be easy.

Effortless, even.

A small exertion of will, and they’d be gone temporarily or permanently or however I decided.

It was a different kind of power.

I exhaled slowly and let the thought pass.

“…No,” I said under my breath. “I’ll let them live.”

The vessel continued forward, eventually breaking through the passage and descending toward New Risendawn.

The city greeted us with its expanding skyline, structures rising with purpose, its atmosphere filled with anticipation for the coronation. The moment we landed, I stepped off the vessel, immediately spotting a familiar figure waiting nearby.

Da Ji.

My twin sister stood there with her son beside her, her expression already carrying a hint of amusement.

“You just missed Alice and Gu Jie,” she said. “They went off to explore Losten. Something about a personal tour.”

I blinked once.

“…Of course they did.”

I looked around instinctively, as if they might suddenly appear.

They didn’t.

I sighed quietly.

“I leave for a bit, and they’re already off enjoying themselves,” I muttered. “That’s… great.”

For a brief moment, an unexpected thought crossed my mind.

I was starting to envy Dave.

Getting married. Having time to actually be present.

Meanwhile, I was here juggling worlds.

I shook my head lightly, dismissing the thought as I turned my attention to the gathering crowd.

Delegates had already begun to arrive, their presence filling the area with a mixture of authority and curiosity. I moved through them, offering greetings where necessary, acknowledging familiar faces as they approached.

Then I saw them.

The Six Primaries.

Yi Qiu of the Martial Alliance stood tall, his posture firm and disciplined. Liu Yana of the Federation carried herself with composed elegance, her sharp eyes taking in everything. Tao Long of Ward remained as steady as ever, his presence grounded and unyielding. Mao Xian of the Adventurer’s Guild appeared relaxed, though his gaze was anything but careless.

And then there was Tian En.

Leader of the reformed Heavenly Temple, now known as the Four Pillars.

A name chosen to honor the ancient legacy of the Four Heroes who once saved the world, a lineage that, in some distant way, tied back to the origins of the Heavenly Temple itself.

They were already in conversation when I approached.

“…If what we’ve seen is accurate, then the structural integrity of this world is still unstable,” Liu Yana was saying.

Yi Qiu nodded slightly.

“And yet he wants to bring it here,” he replied.

Tao Long crossed his arms.

“The risk is not just environmental,” he added. “It is political.”

Mao Xian let out a small breath.

“Still, you can’t deny the opportunity,” he said. “A whole world… that’s not something that comes around often.”

Tian En remained quiet for a moment before speaking.

“Opportunity and danger often arrive together,” she said calmly.

That was when they noticed me.

The conversation paused.

Then, almost in unison, their attention shifted.

“Holy Emperor,” Yi Qiu greeted.

“Da Wei,” Liu Yana followed, her tone measured.

The others acknowledged me in turn, their expressions varying but their focus aligned.

I met their gazes evenly and decided to somewhat shit on them.

“A broken world does not ask for permission to survive,” I said, almost sagaciously, but also sarcastically. “It either adapts… or it disappears. The question isn’t whether Losten deserves a place here. The question is whether we are willing to decide what kind of world we are by how we answer it.”

My smile held, but the moment stretched just a little too long.

Ugh… my stomach was starting to hurt.

I didn’t want to be Holy Emperor anymore, damn it…

For a fleeting second, I traced it all back.

Every decision. Every responsibility. Every layer of authority that had somehow piled onto me.

There was only one person I could really blame.

“Fuck you, Nongmin,” I thought bitterly, my expression remaining perfectly composed on the outside as I stood before the most influential figures of the Hollowed World.

…

..

.

[POV: Nongmin]

Far away, in a workshop cluttered with half-finished constructs and scattered materials, Nongmin suddenly froze mid-motion.

Then he sneezed.

Once.

Twice.

And then repeatedly, each one more aggressive than the last.

“Ah—choo! Ah—CHOO! What in the—ah—CHOO!”

Zai Ai stepped back slightly, raising an eyebrow as she watched him struggle against the sudden onslaught.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Nongmin rubbed his nose, his expression twisting with suspicion as another sneeze forced its way out.

“Someone… ah—CHOO! …someone is definitely talking shit about me,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to peer through space itself to find the culprit.

Zai Ai crossed her arms, unimpressed.

“With the way you act and your history, that doesn’t really narrow it down.”

Nongmin paused, considering that.

“…Fair point,” he admitted, just before another sneeze interrupted him again.