Immortal Paladin

528 Expedition & National Address

To ensure there would not be any catastrophic problems, I carefully examined the players through Ophanim before issuing the quests.

That alone took far longer than expected.

The players were simultaneously some of the most brilliant and most horrifyingly unreliable people I had ever encountered. One moment they could achieve miracles beyond comprehension, and the next they would somehow ignite a diplomatic crisis because somebody insulted their favorite food vendor.

So naturally, caution was necessary.

Countless timelines unfolded before my eyes as Ophanim searched through possibilities. I watched failures, disasters, betrayals, accidental wars, dimensional collapses, and one particularly unfortunate timeline where an entire expedition died because someone tried to pet a calamity-class beast.

Players truly were built differently.

In the end, I selected eight separate parties among the Player Covenant that I felt reasonably confident would neither implode nor accidentally destabilize the Underworld further. Each group received one of the eight delivery quests corresponding to the various conquered layers.

To further improve their odds, I even had Gu Jie personally bless them.

Luck.

Fortune.

Destiny.

Success.

Conceptual authorities intertwined around the chosen parties like invisible threads of providence. Their journeys would become smoother, their chances of survival higher, and opportunities would naturally favor them.

Honestly, it was almost unfair.

Unfortunately, even fate-enhanced players remained players.

I stared blankly through Ophanim while watching one group swagger into a crowded spirit market.

“Outta the way,” a player loudly declared while pointing at his quest window proudly. “Official business from Holy Emperor Da Wei.”

Several civilians immediately panicked and scattered.

I rubbed my forehead tiredly.

“Why are they already abusing my name…?” I muttered. “They haven’t even started yet!”

Another player in a completely different layer casually extorted free lodging from an innkeeper.

A third group somehow started an impromptu cult after casually mentioning they were “chosen messengers of the Emperor.”

I watched all of this unfold with deep exhaustion.

Honestly, I did not particularly mind people borrowing my reputation. Compared to everything else happening in the universe, it barely registered as a problem.

Still, I felt bad for the innocent people getting caught in their nonsense.

Being competent at your job was not an excuse to act like a complete menace to society.

I leaned back in my chair thoughtfully.

“…Maybe I should attach Guardians to each of them.”

The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

The Guardians were perfect for this kind of thing. Terrifying enough to deter trouble while disciplined enough to prevent players from escalating into chaos.

“Yeah,” I decided aloud. “That’s definitely for the best.”

…

..

.

The appearance of the [The Voice of the Hollowed World] quest sent shockwaves through the entire player community. Forums exploded. Guild channels descended into hysteria. Information brokers sold partial details at absurd prices while conspiracy theories multiplied by the hour.

The quest itself sounded deceptively simple.

Delivery.

That was all.

Transport specialized equipment from the Hollowed World into eight conquered layers of the Underworld. Yet the rewards attached to the missions were so absurdly excessive that countless players immediately suspected hidden conditions or world-changing implications.

Naturally, greed followed shortly afterward.

“I’m telling you, whatever they’re carrying has to be insane.”

“Those rewards are NOT normal.”

“We should ambush one of the parties and steal the cargo.”

“If we figure out what the devs are planning, we could become rich beyond imagination.”

Several groups quietly mobilized with precisely those intentions.

They never got the chance.

The moment hostile intent solidified, silver-armored Guardians began appearing across the various layers almost simultaneously. Some emerged from shadows while others descended directly from spatial distortions.

Every player attempting suspicious activity was immediately detained.

One particularly infamous PK guild found themselves arrested before they even left their headquarters.

“What the hell?! We didn’t even do anything yet!”

“That’s the point,” a Guardian replied coldly while dragging them away in chains.

The situation instantly became chaotic.

Forums flooded with panic.

“THE GUARDIANS ARE ARRESTING PEOPLE PREEMPTIVELY!”

“THIS IS UNFAIR!”

“THE DEVS ARE DEFINITELY SPYING ON US!”

Players collectively lost their minds.

At the same time, however, an entirely different reaction emerged among more pragmatic factions.

“If those delivery routes are becoming stable, shouldn’t we establish proper expeditions?”

“We’re wasting an opportunity here.”

“Forget robbery. This is literally the opening of the Underworld for lower level players.”

That single realization changed everything.

The Adventurer’s Guild became the first to mobilize officially. Large expedition caravans were proposed almost immediately alongside logistical support systems, emergency rescue teams, and mobile outposts. The Guild intended to establish permanent footholds throughout the accessible layers so adventurers could contribute more effectively to exploration and reconstruction.

The Player Covenant rapidly followed.

Soon after, the rest of the six major powers of the Hollowed World began attaching official delegations to the player expeditions.

The Federation moved aggressively toward commercial interests. They sought embassies, trade routes, and economic influence within the newly stabilized layers of the Underworld.

The Four Pillars became obsessed with the Seventh Layer and the Sixth Layer after discovering its unusual resources and historical remnants. Scholars, refiners, and cultivators flooded into preparation efforts, eager to compare ancient records with newly uncovered truths.

Radiant Losten displayed particular interest in the Lost Worlds hidden throughout the Underworld. They believed the phenomenon of dungeons and fragmented realities posed a far greater threat than previously understood. Reconstruction teams and researchers were dispatched almost immediately.

The Dragon Court pursued dragons.

That alone explained most of their decisions.

Still, their geological surveys of deeper territories also proved immensely valuable due to their unparalleled understanding of terrain and primordial environments.

Meanwhile, the Ward operated far more quietly.

They wished to establish intelligence networks throughout the Underworld and eventually extend infiltration efforts into surrounding realms. However, before doing any of that, they first needed secure foundations and operational footholds.

For a long time, all six organizations had restrained themselves.

The risks were simply too great.

The Underworld remained dangerous, unstable, and politically volatile even after conquest. No major power wished to overextend itself recklessly.

But players changed everything.

Where ordinary organizations hesitated, players charged forward enthusiastically. Where governments feared losses, players viewed danger as content. Where sensible people saw impossible odds, players saw hidden achievements.

It was madness.

Productive madness.

And because of that, the Hollowed World finally began making truly ambitious moves.

In many ways, the players had quietly become the seventh great power of the Hollowed World. An unpredictable, uncontrollable, and utterly bizarre force that operated completely outside the authority of the World Council.

When the expedition officially began, everyone involved already understood what they wanted out of it.

Some sought profit.

Others chased influence.

Certain factions wished to establish footholds within the Underworld before rival organizations could react. Scholars desired knowledge, adventurers sought glory, merchants pursued wealth, and players naturally wanted rewards, achievements, and chaos.

A terrifying amount of chaos.

Among the influential players within the Player Covenant, several large guilds quickly collaborated to create an extensive logistical system ensuring the successful transportation and distribution of the “items” entrusted to them by Holy Emperor Da Wei.

At first glance, the plan sounded straightforward.

Each expedition fleet would stop at a designated layer. The assigned player party carrying the relevant quest would disembark alongside detached support units, install the broadcasting equipment, stabilize local operations, and reconnect with the greater expedition later.

It was simple.

In reality, it became a logistical nightmare of unimaginable proportions.

Before anyone fully realized what was happening, the operation had developed too many moving parts to stop. Supply chains. Escort routes. Defensive formations. Communication relays. Emergency reinforcement networks. Trade caravans. Civilian migration requests. Research detachments. Diplomatic envoys.

Entire economies began shifting around the expedition routes.

More than thirteen thousand enormous vessels equipped with warp arrays mobilized throughout the occupied layers of the Underworld. Their massive silhouettes filled the vacuum of space in endless streams, forming rivers of steel, jade, spiritwood, and divine alloys stretching across the darkness between worlds.

The scale alone left countless people speechless.

“This is insane…”

“No seriously, look at that fleet!”

“We’re literally invading the underworld with supply chains!”

Players leaned excitedly against observation decks while recording footage nonstop for forums and livestreams. Some proudly displayed guild banners while others simply stared in awe at the endless sea of ships traveling through distorted space.

Eventually, the first designated party reached the Ninth Layer.

“NEW MAP!” one player screamed excitedly the moment the fleet descended. “WE FINALLY MADE IT TO THE UNDERWORLD!”

The surrounding players immediately erupted in cheers.

Most of the quest-assigned parties consisted of players who still primarily operated within the Hollowed World rather than the Greater Universe. Hyperactive people naturally gravitated toward unfolding world events, so the selection process had unintentionally favored exactly those kinds of individuals.

Fortunately, the Ninth Layer—Fate—had already remained under Hollowed World occupation for some time. Compared to the deeper layers, stabilization efforts there progressed relatively smoothly.

If any major complication existed, it was the recent arrival of the Asura Eyes.

Led by Bob, the colossal entities had entered the Underworld not long ago, immediately terrifying nearly everyone present. Their incomprehensibly massive bodies drifted through space like living cosmic disasters. Merely breathing caused nearby stars and floating continents to shift from the force alone.

The first time players witnessed one yawn, thousands collectively questioned whether reality itself was malfunctioning.

“What the hell even IS that thing?!”

“Why is its eyeball bigger than a moon?!”

“BRO IT JUST SNEEZED A METEOR SHOWER!”

The situation stirred tremendous instability throughout the Ninth Layer, though Hei Mao managed to stabilize matters despite currently searching desperately for his missing sister… again.

Under the Judge of Fate’s supervision and Hei Mao offering advice when he could, the city known as Luminary’s Rest became the central starting point for the expeditionary system.

Broadcast towers rose steadily throughout the city while Echo Jade distribution centers opened across surrounding territories. Players and NPC workers installed Spiritwave Projection Screens within markets, sects, and gathering halls so the future broadcasts could spread efficiently.

As the work progressed, even veteran players gradually realized how enormous the Hollowed World had become.

“This world keeps getting bigger every time I log in.”

“We started as dungeon raiders and somehow became dimensional colonizers.”

“You think Da Wei realizes he accidentally created an interdimensional civilization?”

Another player stared thoughtfully at the newly constructed transmission arrays.

“I don’t think this quest is just about delivering equipment,” he muttered. “This feels bigger than that.”

Nobody disagreed.

Meanwhile, the Eighth Layer—Legacy—became an entirely different problem altogether.

Unlike the Ninth Layer, Legacy already possessed powerful commercial organizations originating from other greater realms. Merchant conglomerates, trade federations, and interdimensional tycoons dominated large portions of the layer’s economy long before the Hollowed World arrived.

Naturally, many blamed the Holy Ascension Empire for their collapsing profits.

The Hollowed World did not care at all.

The moment certain organizations attempted sabotage or economic coercion, they were immediately removed with overwhelming force. Trade fleets vanished overnight. Criminal groups disappeared. Entire commercial monopolies collapsed beneath ruthless countermeasures from the World Council.

The conflict escalated rapidly.

Fortunately, the cultivators of the Hollowed World had anticipated resistance from the beginning. Counter-strategies synchronized perfectly with the arrival of the expedition fleets. Specialized negotiation teams, economic warfare experts, formation masters, and military cultivators coordinated their efforts with frightening efficiency.

For the first time in history, the Hollowed World operated from a position of overwhelming advantage.

The steady flow of quintessence from the Hollow Star continuously enriched their territories, resources, and industries. Under the authority of Holy Emperor Da Wei, creation-based production expanded rapidly, allowing them to sustain immense campaigns without relying heavily upon outside support.

The Holy Ascension Empire and the World Council understood this clearly.

They have no need for outsiders.

Players watching the unfolding economic war became increasingly excited.

“This is peak content.”

“We’re literally participating in cosmic trade warfare.”

“If I die here, I’m losing three months of progression…”

“That’s what makes it exciting!”

“YOU’RE INSANE!”

The death penalties within the Underworld remained horrifyingly severe even now. Many players openly admitted they were terrified.

Yet somehow, fear only made the experience more addictive.

Then came the Seventh Layer, Suffering.

The name alone explained enough.

Rabid souls wandered endlessly across broken territories consumed by despair and resentment. Spiritual storms tore through ruined landscapes while lingering remnants from War’s defeated camp launched sudden ambushes against occupation forces.

Even specialized exorcist cultivators struggled under the relentless pressure.

Players died constantly during the early days.

Fortunately, players adapted quickly.

Entire walkthroughs emerged across the Player Covenant detailing optimal purification routes, safe zones, ambush predictions, formation weaknesses, and recommended team compositions. Veteran players organized support structures while information spread through forums faster than military briefings.

By the time the designated delivery party finally entered the Seventh Layer, a functional system already existed.

“Alright,” one player announced confidently while opening a detailed guide window. “According to the walkthrough, if we avoid the western grief zones and rotate purification formations every twenty minutes, we should survive.”

Another player stared at the horrifying wasteland around them.

“…You said that way too casually.”

Still, the strategy worked.

Supported by the growing infrastructure established by earlier expeditions, the players steadily advanced deeper into Suffering. Transmission towers rose amidst ruined battlefields while Echo Orbs spread among surviving settlements and occupation zones alike.

Little by little, the Voice of the Hollowed World began extending across the Underworld.

The expedition continued onward relentlessly one layer after another.

At every stop, detachments split from the main fleet while designated player parties unloaded broadcasting equipment, established local transmission hubs, and integrated the conquered territories into the growing communication network of the Hollowed World.

What originally resembled a delivery quest had evolved into something far larger.

It became an expansion of a civilization.

Not merely just invasion.

The fleets crossed vast stretches of dead space between layers while warp formation arrays pulsed continuously beneath the hulls of thousands of vessels. Massive streams of ships flowed endlessly through the Underworld like glowing rivers cutting through eternal darkness.

Unfortunately, the deeper they traveled, the more dangerous the journey became.

The Sixth Layer proved especially catastrophic.

Nidhogg.

The moment the ancient monstrosity stirred, entire regions of space collapsed into chaos. Vast draconic shadows moved through the void while corrupted storms consumed fleets unfortunate enough to drift too close.

Several expeditionary vessels vanished almost instantly.

Players barely had time to scream before they disappeared entirely.

“FORMATION FAILURE!”

“RETREAT RETREAT RETREAT!”

“WHY IS THAT THING SO BIG?!”

Panic spread rapidly throughout the fleet.

If not for the intervention of the Judge of Order, the expedition might have ended there entirely. Brilliant chains of law descended across the void while immense suppressive formations restrained Nidhogg long enough for the fleets to escape.

Even afterward, many players remained visibly traumatized.

Originally, the Sixth Layer should have been almost completely devoid of life.

At least, that was what historical records claimed.

However, after Ru Qiu established the layer as one of his operational bases, countless hidden regions began resurfacing. Scattered among the broken realities were surviving worlds, fragments from destroyed realms that still retained populations clinging desperately to existence.

The discovery shocked everyone.

Entire civilizations had endured quietly within the corpses of fallen worlds.

Since then, rescue efforts organized primarily by players had intensified dramatically.

The Sixth Layer became recognized as both a graveyard and a treasure trove.

Lost technologies.

Forgotten cultivation systems.

Ancient bloodlines.

Dead civilizations.

Every shattered world drifting through the layer represented history otherwise erased forever.

Naturally, players became obsessed.

The Fifth Layer—Bonds—and the Fourth Layer—Truth—proved even more difficult militarily.

Remnants of War’s camp remained exceptionally powerful within those territories. Unlike the scattered resistance found elsewhere, these forces retained structure, discipline, and frightening combat strength.

Several large-scale engagements erupted throughout the expedition’s passage.

Warp formation arrays overheated repeatedly as fleets performed emergency spatial jumps merely to survive ambushes.

Fortunately, the Hollowed World possessed one overwhelming advantage.

Information.

Records gathered previously by Alice’s infiltration party became invaluable. Detailed maps, enemy movement predictions, hidden routes, and strategic weaknesses allowed the expedition to navigate regions that otherwise would have become death traps.

More importantly, several terrifyingly powerful figures accompanied the fleet.

Yi Qiu, the Martial Alliance Master.

Martial Saint Tan Jin.

The mere presence of those individuals stabilized morale immensely.

Players watching Yi Qiu punch apart a fortress-sized war construct described the experience as “extremely motivating.”

Meanwhile, Tan Jin became the subject of worship among martial players after casually splitting a corrupted battlefield in half with a single strike of her Thorn Whip.

At one point during the expedition, even a local Judge of the layer joined their forces temporarily, personally guaranteeing the fleet’s protection through several unstable regions.

With every new ally, the expedition pushed deeper.

Then came the Third Layer, Karma.

Compared to earlier territories, progression there became significantly smoother. The layer remained dangerous, but organized resistance had largely collapsed.

The true problem instead came from the overwhelming number of undead.

Entire continents and worlds crawled with restless corpses, cursed souls, and fragmented spirits wandering aimlessly through ruined landscapes.

“It’s like a zombie apocalypse realm.”

“Correction,” another player muttered nervously. “It’s a zombie apocalypse dimension.”

Fortunately, Conquest’s authority over the layer rendered most undead harmless. Under the suppressive influence of the new rulers, vast hordes simply ignored the expeditionary forces unless directly provoked.

Players wasted no time exploiting this.

Some even began offering “undead tourism guides” to newer arrivals.

The Second Layer—Intent—nearly became another disaster.

Void beasts infested enormous portions of the territory, turning travel routes into lethal hunting grounds. Unlike undead or corrupted souls, these creatures possessed terrifying adaptability and immense aggression toward living beings.

Several escort fleets suffered severe losses during the initial crossings.

However, Gu Jie’s earlier expedition records saved countless lives.

Using the routes and survival notes left behind by her party, the expedition successfully bypassed many major nesting zones and reached stable civilizations far faster than expected. By then, the communication network of the Hollowed World stretched across nearly the entire Underworld.

And finally, the Voice spoke.

…

..

.

Across the eternally dark skies of the Underworld, an enormous mirage appeared.

It towered above countless worlds and dead realms alike, illuminating the darkness with divine radiance.

A man sat upon a magnificent throne.

He possessed short dark hair and wore flowing dark robes embroidered with starlight itself. Upon his head rested a crown radiating overwhelming authority.

The moment countless souls looked upon him, instinctive reverence surfaced from deep within their beings.

Then he spoke.

“I am Da Wei,” the figure declared calmly, his voice echoing throughout every layer of existence. “Holy Emperor of the Hollowed World… and now the Yama King ruling over eight layers of the Underworld.”

The declaration shook the Underworld.

From the Ninth Layer to the Second, innumerable souls raised their heads toward the sky in stunned disbelief.

At the same time, identical scenes unfolded throughout the Hollowed World itself. Projection screens, Spiritwave Arrays, and Echo Orbs broadcasted the image everywhere simultaneously.

Markets fell silent.

Sects stopped functioning.

Entire cities froze.

The Holy Emperor continued speaking from his throne.

“For far too long, the Underworld has suffered beneath the mismanagement of the Supreme Death,” he said. “Souls wandered endlessly without purpose. Reincarnation stagnated. Countless dead were denied the right to move on.”

His gaze swept across the endless darkness.

“But no more.”

The words resonated deeply within every soul present.

“I promise reincarnation.

“I promise a path toward a second chance.

“I promise the opportunity to make things right again.”

The throne’s radiance intensified.

“All you need… is to accept me.”

Then the flag of the Holy Ascension Empire manifested across the heavens.

A single golden cross against a white background.

And beneath it?

The Underworld wept.

Souls trapped for countless ages cried openly beneath the false heavens. Countless dead imprisoned within the stomachs and soul realms of cultivators wept in longing and despair.

Judges suppressed for eras lowered their heads silently.

Hope.

After endless ages of stagnation, hope finally appeared once more.

Meanwhile, far beyond the sight of ordinary beings, another figure watched quietly.

The Supreme Death sat alone within a dim palace.

His skin appeared pale and sickly while deathly exhaustion lingered beneath his eyes. Yet despite everything, amusement flickered faintly across his expression as he observed Da Wei’s proclamation.

“It’s almost time,” he murmured softly.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“It’s the time for my funeral, it seems.”