Immortal Paladin

“Good work, the two of you!”

I pulled both Alice and Gu Jie into a hug before either of them could escape. Alice stiffened instantly, her pale cheeks turning red beneath the soot and blood staining her face, while Gu Jie made a strangled noise of embarrassment as she struggled from my arms.

“F-Father, people are watching!” Gu Jie cried.

Alice tried to pry herself free without using force. “Da Wei… this is hardly the time for public displays of affection.”

“That’s exactly why it’s the perfect time,” I replied shamelessly.

Horse-Face snorted loudly from the side while Wang Yang covered his mouth to hide his grin. Even Pestilence, who normally looked perpetually miserable, seemed faintly amused.

The Seventh Layer of the Underworld had finally quieted down. Not completely, of course. The distant sounds of battle still echoed across the blackened plains and ruined fortresses, but compared to the chaos from before, the resistance had already collapsed into scattered pockets. Rivers of ghostfire cut through shattered landscapes while countless undead armies wandered aimlessly after losing command.

Victory was already decided.

All that remained was the final blow.

The Mighty Duck floated above the ruins like an immortal fortress, its golden hull scarred from battle yet still majestic. Cultivators, ghosts, revenants, and players moved across the deck carrying supplies, treating the wounded, or simply collapsing from exhaustion. The air smelled of blood, smoke, spirit fuel, and burned karma.

I swept my gaze across everyone gathered.

The Death Daughters stood together near the railing, still terrifying despite their battered appearances. Gu Jie’s party, Chen Wei and Gao Fu, looked half-dead from exhaustion. Alice’s group was in better shape overall, though Horse-Face had lost an arm and Wang Yang was missing part of his robes.

Honestly, considering the scale of the war, this counted as excellent condition.

“You’ve all done well,” I said, my voice carrying across the deck through spiritual amplification. “This victory belongs to every single one of you. The Nine Layers of the Underworld have stood unconquered for countless ages, yet today only one layer remains beyond our grasp.”

The atmosphere shifted immediately.

Even the exhausted cultivators straightened.

“You fought for me,” I continued. “You bled for the Hollowed World. I won’t forget that. Every contributor to this campaign will be rewarded according to merit. Resources, cultivation arts, territories, treasures, authority? Whatever can be granted shall be granted.”

That woke them up better than any healing pill.

A few players in the distance outright started cheering.

I raised a hand before the noise could grow too loud.

“But before that, I need to make this official. Out of the Nine Layers of the Underworld… only one still remains.”

The deck erupted into thunderous applause.

I smiled faintly before stepping away from the crowd. Alice caught my sleeve briefly, her eyes meeting mine.

“Try not to start another war while you’re gone,” she said softly.

“No promises.”

“That answer alone shaved years off my very indefinite lifespan.”

Gu Jie crossed her arms. “You say that like you had a peaceful lifespan to begin with.”

I laughed and vanished through the spatial corridor before Alice could retaliate.

The battlefield outside Ru Qiu’s fortress remained horrifying even after the fighting ended. Mountains had been flattened into craters. Entire valleys were split open like wounds across the earth. Residual laws still twisted the air from the sheer intensity of previous battles.

Ru Qiu himself sat atop a broken tower surrounded by corpses.

Mostly enemy corpses.

He looked terrible.

His robes were cracked beyond repair, one sleeve was gone entirely, and dried blood covered nearly half his body. Yet despite everything, the man still somehow radiated the same exhausted irritation he always carried.

“You fought well,” I said sincerely. “Thank you for your valiant efforts.”

Ru Qiu opened one eye lazily.

“If you really want to reward me,” he muttered, “I wouldn’t mind a free punch to your face.”

I blinked.

“…I can arrange that right now.”

He stared at me for several seconds before sighing deeply.

“I want an audience.”

“Awww,” I said, placing a hand over my chest dramatically. “I’m touched. You’ll commit treason for me? Now, that’s bold.”

“You’re a lunatic.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Ru Qiu waved me away weakly. “Don’t bother me again unless it’s actually important.”

I grinned. “Yeah, yeah, see you when I see you.”

I returned to the Hollowed World. The moment I arrived, I reclaimed the Hollow Star from Jue Bu and immediately began planning the next phase. Jue Bu complained how I’ve been moving around a lot, and it was messing up his schedule. I ignored him. There were still so much work to do.

Conquering the Underworld militarily was one thing.

Making its inhabitants acknowledge their new master was another entirely.

Fear worked temporarily, but fear alone never built stable rule. Eventually resentment fermented into rebellion. I needed something deeper. Something capable of reaching every corner of the Nine Layers consistently.

Maybe I could leave this to the players.

They were an absurdly creative bunch when properly motivated.

Using Ophanim, I consulted countless alternate timelines simultaneously. Different versions of trusted allies debated possibilities with me across branching futures. Some ideas failed catastrophically. Others somehow resulted in cult worship involving rubber ducks.

I chose not to question that one too deeply.

After enough iterations, a proper plan slowly emerged.

Journalism.

Honestly, it felt bizarre saying that out loud in a xianxia universe filled with immortals capable of shattering planets.

Still, the concept wasn’t foreign to the Hollowed World. Information organizations already existed in fragmented forms. Sect announcements, intelligence networks, jade slip publications, rumor markets? They all served similar functions.

After poking around further through Ophanim, I learned the Celestial Circle and several greater realms had already developed subscription-based information systems.

Apparently journalism truly refused to die regardless of civilization level.

So I contacted Nongmin.

The former Emperor listened to my explanation silently while chewing spirit tobacco. When I finished, he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“You want to spread information across an entire conquered underworld.”

“Preferably without starting twelve riots per broadcast.”

“That lowers efficiency.”

“Please no.”

In the end, he still agreed to help.

Together with Zai Ai and Sikao Biaoji, we began developing the necessary equipment. I used Ophanim constantly throughout the process, accelerating experimentation by testing thousands of possibilities through alternate timelines before they physically constructed anything.

Even then, the speed remained absurd.

Less than a week later, we successfully created the xianxia equivalent of a television broadcasting system.

The completed set included: Soulwave Transmission Towers capable of sending spiritual broadcasts across dimensional barriers; Karma Resonance Receivers designed for civilian use throughout the Underworld; Heavenly Projection Screens that manifested large-scale visual displays in populated regions; Thought-Imprint Recording Orbs used to capture speeches, battles, and announcements; Spirit Pulse Amplifiers to stabilize broadcasts against interference from ghost qi and corrupted laws; Law-Script Encryption Arrays preventing hostile factions from hijacking transmissions; and Central Broadcasting Thrones synchronized directly with the Hollow Star itself for efficiency.

It was completely ridiculous.

I loved it.

Nongmin leaned against one of the transmission pillars while Sikao Biaoji adjusted formation circuits nearby. Zai Ai looked half-conscious after staying awake for several consecutive days.

“This is incredible,” I admitted honestly. “All of you outdid yourselves.”

Nongmin grunted. “Your eyes did half the work.”

“Maybe,” I said, “but genius is still genius.”

I bowed my head slightly toward them.

“Thank you. I’ll send players here to retrieve and distribute the equipment soon. Please instruct them properly.”

Sikao Biaoji immediately frowned. “Properly? You’re sending players. Being proper is the last thing they’ll be.”

“That’s fair.”

Zai Ai weakly raised a hand. “Can we at least forbid them from modifying the devices?”

A horrifying silence filled the room.

“…I’ll try,” I said carefully.

Nobody looked reassured.

Afterward, I spent several more days handling errands throughout the Hollowed World. I met with the Primaries of every major organization, finalized agreements regarding Underworld administration, negotiated resource allocation, suppressed several opportunistic factions, and prepared the structure for the new order that would soon emerge.

By the end of it all, only one task remained.

My National Address.

Honestly, the thought of speaking to an entire world somehow felt more terrifying than conquering the Underworld itself.

…

..

.

[POV: Hellspawn_Fanarys]

A hellspawn woman stared intensely at the map spread across the makeshift wooden table before her, crimson eyes narrowed as though glaring hard enough would somehow force the incomprehensible mess to reorganize itself. Her dark horns curved elegantly from her head while her long scarlet hair spilled down the back of her leather coat. She looked every bit the terrifying demon noble one would expect from the Underworld.

Unfortunately, appearances were deceiving.

“Bloody hell, this map’s complete rubbish,” Hellyspawn_Fanarys muttered in frustration. “Who in their right mind folded an entire bloody world into another world and expected geography to remain sensible?”

Most people simply called her Fanny to avoid confusion with the actual Fanarys of Losten. The distinction had become necessary after the World of Losten merged into the Hollowed World and reality itself decided consistency was optional.

At the moment, Fanny and her companions were wandering through Radiant Losten, a land that barely resembled the version they once knew. The land had shifted, skies had changed color, entire civilizations had vanished or fused into larger territories. Ancient ruins now floated upside down in the heavens while forests grew beneath oceans through spatial distortions.

In short, the place was a nightmare for navigation.

Their current objective only made things worse.

The group was searching for the “game characters” they once used during earlier iterations of the game. Many of those old characters had become real entities after the countless upheavals involving worlds, timelines, and divine nonsense beyond mortal comprehension.

Some survived.

Others did not.

Fanny’s counterpart, Losten Fanarys, thankfully remained perfectly alive and terrifyingly competent. Unfortunately, several of her friends’ old characters had perished or disappeared, forcing the group into a lengthy resurrection and recovery questline.

It was, admittedly, Fanny’s attempt at making things up to Losten Fanarys.

Childish though it sounded, she cherished those old characters the same way a little girl treasured beloved dolls from childhood.

Even now, she refused to abandon them.

“The map is not working because you are reading it upside down.”

Fanny slowly turned toward the source of the voice.

A rooster stood beside her.

Not a beastman.

Not a humanoid.

An actual rooster.

“Gab,” Fanny said dangerously.

Gab_Yggdra puffed out his chest proudly. “I merely state facts, non? Besides, I am not particularly intelligent myself, so if even I can notice this problem, your confusion is not unexpected.”

His thick French accent somehow made the insult feel even more offensive.

Fanny’s eye twitched violently.

“You feathered little shite, I’ll turn you into fried chicken.”

“Hah! You could not even catch me when I had one wing tied behind my back!”

“I’LL MAKE BOTH WINGS MATCH!”

Before the argument escalated into attempted poultry homicide, a woman stepped between them with practiced exhaustion. A bow rested across her back while orange-and-silver hair framed a sharp but beautiful face.

“Can the two of you stop fighting for five minutes?” Robin_Hoodie asked.

Several handsome men standing behind her immediately nodded in agreement.

“Our goddess speaks wisely.”

“Please listen to Lady Robin.”

“She suffers enough already.”

Robin’s expression became visibly dead inside.

Being a harem protagonist sounded exciting in theory. In practice, it mostly meant managing emotionally unstable idiots twenty-four hours a day.

Meanwhile, another member of their party sat atop a nearby crate counting coins with growing despair. Corvus_Murder brushed purple hair away from his face before sighing dramatically.

“We are officially broke,” he announced. “If we do not pick up actual quests soon, we are going to starve.”

That was unfortunately true.

The Legacy Quests they pursued were monstrously expensive. They had hired researchers, mercenaries, historians, excavation teams, diviners, cartographers, and enough NPC assistants to start a small kingdom. The constantly changing geography of modern Losten only worsened matters.

Even with financial support from the World Tree and favorable treatment from Losten_Yggdra herself, progress remained painfully slow.

Gab suddenly hopped onto the table.

“Why not simply try our hand in the Greater Universe?” he proposed. “Surely opportunities there are abundant.”

Fanny immediately shot the idea down.

“Mate, the main events are already bloody over,” she said. “They’re practically in the endgame now. Everyone there is absurdly overpowered.”

Robin crossed her arms thoughtfully.

“We’re still within the top hundred strongest players even with outdated gear,” she argued. “And we possess unique items and advantages newer players don’t.”

Corvus immediately shook his head.

“I’d rather stay here,” he muttered. “There’s still a bounty on my head in three World Council factions.”

Gab burst into obnoxious laughter.

“HAH! Perhaps if you stopped murdering every player who annoyed you—”

“They attacked me first!”

“You harvested them for experience points!”

“That was efficient resource management!”

The group descended into chaos once more.

Then space distorted.

The air itself folded inward silently as a figure appeared before them without warning.

Every NPC accompanying the expedition immediately fell to one knee.

“Hail the Holy Emperor Da Wei!”

The players nearly jumped out of their skin before hurriedly following suit.

Even Fanny instinctively lowered her head.

Da Wei stood calmly amidst the distorted light, dressed in simple black robes despite the overwhelming pressure radiating from him. He did not appear especially imposing at first glance, yet reality itself subtly bent around his existence.

His gaze swept across the group before amusement flickered briefly in his eyes.

“If it isn’t some of my favorite Eternals,” he remarked. “The Champions of Losten wandering around causing trouble again.”

Nobody dared answer immediately.

Da Wei casually waved a hand.

“I have a task for all of you.”

The moment those words left his mouth, every player present immediately straightened.

A hidden quest from Da Wei?

That alone was enough to make entire guilds go insane.

“You are to head toward Nongmin’s workshop,” Da Wei continued. “There, you will receive a series of newly developed devices. Your task is to transport and distribute them throughout the Greater Universe.”

A system notification immediately exploded before their eyes.

[WORLD QUEST RECEIVED]

[The Voice of the Hollowed World]

[Difficulty: EX]

[Description: Deliver the Heavenly Broadcast System to the Greater Universe.]

[Rewards:]

[+ ??? Reputation]

[+ Access to Imperial Network]

[+ Special Authority Permissions]

[+ Direct Favorability from Holy Emperor Da Wei]

[+ 12,500,000,000 EXP]

Silence descended.

Complete and utter silence.

Then the entire party collectively lost their minds.

“TWELVE BILLION?!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT EXPERIENCE REWARD?!”

“DIRECT FAVORABILITY FROM DA WEI?!”

Gab fainted directly onto the table.

Corvus clutched his chest like he was having a heart attack.

Robin stared blankly at the system window as though questioning reality itself.

Meanwhile, Fanny looked up toward Da Wei with absolute disbelief written across her face.

“…Nice,” she whispered weakly. “We just hit the jackpot.”