Immortal Paladin

[POV: Fu Ru/Monk]

The Hollowed World was an enormous place, so vast that even its countless continents failed to describe its true scale. Seas wider than mortal imagination divided lands that had never known one another’s existence. Kingdoms rose and fell beneath unfamiliar constellations. Entire civilizations spent thousands of years believing they alone stood beneath heaven. It was a world that dwarfed reason itself.

The Holy Emperor ruled every inch of that dark sphere.

His authority stretched across every mountain, every river, every grain of sand, and every soul that called the Hollowed World home. His presence lingered within the laws that governed existence, reaching a degree of omnipresence that only gods could claim.

Yet omnipresence did not mean omniscience.

The Hollowed World was simply too immense.

There existed only so much that even he could perceive within a single instant. His awareness flowed wherever it was needed most, but it remained bound by attention. Like a man standing atop a mountain overlooking an endless forest, he could not examine every leaf at once. Entire villages could live and die beneath the canopy without ever entering his sight.

That was why every citizen of the Hollowed World knew a single truth.

If salvation was needed, they had to cry his name.

They had to shout with every ounce of desperation they possessed. They had to pray loudly enough that their voices pierced through distance itself. Whether hidden beneath forgotten caverns or stranded atop frozen mountains, if their plea carried enough conviction, the Holy Emperor would hear it.

He always had.

But then came a question no one had imagined asking. What happened if everyone cried for him at once?

Not hundreds. Not thousands. Not millions. Every soul. Every city. Every battlefield. Every child. Every dying soldier. Every terrified mother. Every desperate elder. Every voice screaming his name with equal desperation.

How could anyone distinguish one plea from another when every cry carried the same urgency?

The answer was painfully simple.

He could not.

When the Great Beast descended upon the Hollowed World and the Pale Conquerors marched beneath its shadow, those cries became a single deafening roar that echoed from one end of creation to the other.

No emperor, however divine, could answer a noise.

...

..

.

Fu Ru had once been a simple soldier, merely another spear among countless ranks.

After years of military service, he had retired to inherit the modest farm left behind by his recently deceased father. The land rested upon an unnamed continent lying so far from civilization that its rulers possessed no concept of continents at all. They believed their homeland was the entirety of the world.

The strongest cultivator in their domain had only reached the Fourth Realm, Spirit Mystery.

To outsiders, it was a forgotten corner of existence.

To Fu Ru, it had been home.

Even now, he could not forget the day the sky itself broke. It began without warning. One moment, he had been repairing a fence beside his fields. The next, the world twisted.

Space folded and the earth vanished beneath his feet.

His vision blurred as a pressure unlike anything he had experienced crushed against every inch of his body. Before he understood what had happened, solid ground returned beneath him.

His farm was gone and the familiar hills had disappeared.

The forests surrounding his village no longer existed.

Instead, endless plains stretched before him, dotted with cities unlike any architecture he had ever seen. Strange towers pierced the heavens while roads of polished stone extended farther than the eye could follow.

People screamed from every direction.

”What happened?”

”Where is my family?”

”This isn’t my village!”

”Someone help!”

”Mother!”

”The sky... look at the sky!”

Fu Ru slowly raised his head.

Half the heavens had vanished.

Occupying the distant horizon was a silhouette so impossibly large that his mind refused to comprehend it. It resembled no beast known to man. Mountains seemed no larger than grains of dust against its flesh. Clouds gathered around its body like drifting mist.

It consumed half the world merely by existing.

Later, everyone learned the truth.

The Holy Emperor had moved nearly half the population of the Hollowed World to the opposite side of the planet.

It had been a desperate stratagem.

The Great Beast’s descent occupied an entire hemisphere. Remaining there would have guaranteed extinction. Rather than abandon billions of lives, the Holy Emperor had bent reality itself, transporting entire nations beyond the creature’s immediate reach.

It had saved countless people.

It had also created a catastrophe of another kind.

Fu Ru remembered wandering through unfamiliar forests alongside strangers who spoke languages he had never heard before. Entire caravans searched aimlessly for homes that no longer existed. Families became separated during the teleportation and wandered for weeks without finding one another.

As days passed, more survivors arrived, then more, and then more still.

Villages built for several hundred residents suddenly housed tens of thousands. Cities meant for one kingdom became homes for dozens. Every open field transformed into sprawling camps of frightened refugees.

The Hollowed World had become a collision of civilizations.

Some newcomers had never heard of the Holy Ascension Empire. Others dismissed the Seven Primaries as ridiculous myths. Several kingdoms believed the Holy Emperor to be merely another ambitious monarch, while others insisted the catastrophe marked the punishment of forgotten gods.

Arguments erupted everywhere.

”Our king rules the heavens!”

”No, the Holy Emperor governs this land now!”

”We refuse to kneel before foreign rulers!”

”You people don’t even know proper cultivation!”

”What language are you speaking?”

”Stay away from my children!”

Religious disputes quickly became political disputes. Political disputes became territorial disputes. Territorial disputes became bloodshed. Farmers fought nobles. Nomads clashed against city dwellers. Merchant guilds competed over dwindling supplies while displaced governments attempted to reclaim authority over subjects scattered across unfamiliar lands.

Some kingdoms insisted upon restoring their old borders despite no longer standing upon their own continents. Others attempted to seize abandoned settlements before rival nations arrived.

Even simple customs became reasons for violence.

One people considered uncovered faces an unforgivable insult. Another viewed covering one’s face as evidence of criminal intent. Funeral rites offended neighboring cultures. Marriage traditions sparked riots. Food shortages encouraged theft. Rumors encouraged lynchings. Fear encouraged everything else.

The chaos grew gradually.

No single disaster destroyed order.

Instead, countless smaller problems accumulated until the burden became unbearable. Then the Pale Conquerors arrived. Unlike Fu Ru, who found himself stranded within forests, countless others materialized inside overcrowded cities.

The slaughter there became unimaginable.

Buildings collapsed beneath monstrous assaults. Entire streets vanished beneath torrents of pale flesh. People trampled one another while fleeing through narrow roads. The dead covered marketplaces before the first hour ended.

Fu Ru remembered hearing distant explosions while refugees poured through the forests like rivers fleeing a flood.

Not long afterward, salvation finally appeared.

A Guardian descended from the heavens.

Silver wings illuminated the surrounding wilderness while dozens of towering Ezekiels landed behind him. Their holy skeletons gleamed beneath the dim sky as divine authority washed across the frightened crowd.

The Guardian raised a hand, his voice carrying across thousands. ”Everyone, remain calm. You are under the protection of His Holy Majesty. We know you are frightened. We know many of you have lost your homes. But panicking will only claim more lives. Remain where you are. Follow our instructions. This area has been designated a quarantine zone. Food and medical assistance are already on their way. We will reunite families as quickly as possible. Please cooperate.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Hope returned, but it was short-lived as screaming once more took over.

”My daughter is missing!”

Another shouted from deeper within the crowd.

”They’re stealing supplies!”

A knife flashed. Someone collapsed. Panic spread faster than fire.

The Guardian and his Ezekiels moved with astonishing speed, stopping fights before they escalated, healing the wounded, restraining criminals, and rescuing children lost within the sea of refugees.

Even so, there were too many people.

Every time one dispute ended, another erupted somewhere else.

A woman cried over her murdered husband. An elderly merchant discovered everything he owned had been stolen. Bandits preyed upon exhausted refugees traveling between camps. Children disappeared during the night. Women vanished before sunrise. Bodies emerged from rivers. Entire families awoke to discover their possessions gone.

The Guardians worked without rest. The Ezekiels patrolled day and night. Still, they could not be everywhere at once.

Weeks later, once the immediate destruction subsided, another hardship emerged.

Rows upon rows of fenced settlements spread across the plains. Temporary shelters became sprawling refugee camps. Long lines formed before kitchens distributing thin bowls of porridge. Medical tents overflowed with patients. Officials carried endless ledgers while desperately attempting to identify the millions who had been displaced.

Fu Ru recognized the sight immediately.

Years earlier, during military campaigns against hostile tribes, he had seen defeated populations gathered behind wooden barricades while governments struggled to process them.

These camps looked hauntingly similar.

Only now, the prisoners had committed no crime.

One morning, a tired official sat behind a rough wooden table.

”Name?”

”Fu Ru.”

”Place of origin?”

”I... don’t know how to describe it anymore.”

The official paused before sighing.

”You’re the seventeenth person today who’s answered that.”

”When can we leave?” another refugee asked.

”We’re still verifying identities,” the official replied, rubbing weary eyes.

”My wife is sick.”

”I know.”

”My children are hungry.”

”I know.”

”Then do something!”

The official lowered his brush.

”We’re trying.”

His voice cracked beneath exhaustion.

”There are billions of displaced people. We’ve received over three million requests in this district alone. We’re trying.”

Nearby, volunteers handed out steaming bowls.

”One per person.”

”Please don’t push.”

”There will be enough.”

An old woman accepted her meal with trembling hands.

”My grandson hasn’t spoken since the teleportation.”

The volunteer offered a faint smile.

”Give him time.”

”I hope you’re right.”

At night, people gathered around campfires.

”I heard they’ve found another continent.”

”They say the Holy Emperor himself is fighting that monster.”

”My brother swore he saw angels.”

”My husband still hasn’t returned.”

”I don’t think he ever will.”

No one knew what tomorrow would bring, yet tomorrow always came slowly and painfully. The bureaucracy adapted. Supply routes stabilized. Records expanded. Refugees reunited with long-lost relatives. New settlements formed. Trade resumed.

Order returned one careful step after another. It took tremendous effort, unimaginable sacrifice, and far longer than anyone wished. But eventually, the Hollowed World began healing.

For Fu Ru, none of it mattered anymore.

Before those wounds could close, another hand had already reached him. The Supreme Heart had found him during those bleak days, speaking gently to the bitterness festering within his heart. He had whispered that the Holy Emperor had abandoned ordinary people. He had asked why an all-powerful ruler allowed innocents to suffer inside camps while monsters devoured the world.

Fu Ru had known the answer should have been more complicated. He understood the scale of the catastrophe. He had witnessed the impossible burden placed upon a single sovereign trying to save an entire world.

Yet understanding did not erase resentment.

It did not bring back his home or erase the months spent believing he had been forgotten. His anger was selfish. His bitterness was impudent. Deep within his heart, he knew both things to be true.

Even so, he had carried that resentment toward the Great Guard for a very long time.

By the time the Supreme Heart had found him, Fu Ru had already stepped into the Seventh Realm.

He had survived the Great Beast’s descent, endured the collapse of civilization, watched bureaucracy grind beneath impossible numbers, and buried the family that should have shared his remaining years.

Fu Ru had enough.

...

The present returned with the scent of damp earth.

Ancient trees stretched toward the heavens, their sprawling canopies blotting out much of the afternoon sun. The forest remained eerily quiet, broken only by the occasional chirping of insects and the rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.

Fu Ru stood beside the dark-haired man whom the Supreme Heart had assigned as his temporary ally.

He studied the stranger for a brief moment before speaking.

”What is your name?”

The young man glanced sideways without much interest.

”Loki.”

Fu Ru nodded once.

”What do you propose?”

Loki folded his arms behind his head and smiled lazily.

”We split up. Deal with whoever we run into. If one of us survives long enough, we’ll meet again eventually.”

”You trust me that much?”

”I don’t.”

Loki chuckled.

”I just don’t care.”

Before Fu Ru could respond, Loki disappeared into the forest with casual strides, as though he were taking an afternoon stroll rather than entering a contest where only one side would remain standing.

Fu Ru watched him vanish between the trees before turning in the opposite direction.

He preferred it that way.

Not long afterward, he discovered a village hidden within the forest.

Simple wooden houses stood around freshly harvested fields while smoke drifted from stone chimneys. Children chased one another through dirt roads as elders sat beneath shaded porches, sharing cups of tea. The atmosphere was peaceful enough that one would never imagine a deadly contest unfolding around them.

Fu Ru observed them from afar.

He quietly ignored them.

As evening approached, the villagers gathered around the central square. Someone rolled large barrels of wine into the open while others prepared roasted meat over blazing fires. Laughter echoed throughout the settlement.

”The Blood Moon is only a few days away!”

”I’ve been waiting all year.”

”They say the blessings are strongest beneath its light.”

”I wonder if the old shaman will perform the dance again.”

”He’d better. It wouldn’t feel like a festival without it.”

Fu Ru silently turned away. Their celebration meant nothing to him. He raised a single hand. Tiny motes of golden light emerged from his fingertips before taking the shape of dozens of delicate birds. Their translucent feathers shimmered faintly as divine qi gathered around their small bodies.

Holy Spirits.

The birds chirped softly before scattering across the forest in every direction. Each one carried a fragment of Fu Ru’s perception. Once his scouts departed, Fu Ru entered the hollow of an ancient tree.

He crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

Divine arts quietly circulated through his meridians.

His aura gradually faded until even the surrounding wildlife ceased treating him as another living creature. Moss crept over exposed roots while vines gently draped across the entrance of the hollow. His breathing synchronized with the rhythm of the forest itself.

Ever since abandoning worldly life and shaving his head to walk the path of a monk, Fu Ru had displayed remarkable affinity toward divine arts. His temperament aligned naturally with techniques that emphasized harmony rather than domination. Instead of forcing heaven and earth to obey, he welcomed himself into their greater flow, allowing nature to conceal him as though he had always belonged there.

Hours passed without movement.

As an immortal, hunger no longer gnawed at him. Fatigue no longer clouded his thoughts. He remained perfectly still.

Only his Holy Spirits moved.

Information continuously flowed back into his consciousness. Every villager wandering through the forest, every hunter gathering herbs, every child chasing rabbits, and every traveler crossing hidden paths was quietly marked by his divine sense. Invisible seals attached themselves to each target, allowing Fu Ru to follow their locations wherever they went.

Eventually, two figures entered his awareness. One was a woman dressed in flowing dark robes. The other wore crimson armor that burned like fresh blood beneath the fading sunlight. Fu Ru did not recognize their faces. He recognized what they represented. They were competitors.

This reconstructed world was nothing more than a record of history given temporary substance. Everything within it could become a weapon. Everything possessed value. Fu Ru intended to exploit every advantage available to him.

He understood perfectly well that the Supreme Heart was using him. There had never been any illusion otherwise. He was no chosen disciple destined for greatness, no favored subordinate entrusted with sacred purpose. The agreement between them had always been straightforward. The Supreme Heart provided him an opportunity. Fu Ru offered his strength in return. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Yet that opportunity was enough. For years, hatred had burned within him like a slow fire that refused to die. He remembered his son disappearing beneath the stampede that followed the Great Beast’s arrival. No amount of strength had allowed him to reach the boy before countless fleeing feet crushed the child’s frail body into the mud. He remembered finding his wife afterward, broken and violated. Bandits had taken advantage of the lawlessness consuming the refugee columns. She never truly recovered. Neither had he.

Every memory filled him with murderous rage. Every recollection tempted him toward vengeance. Yet the principles he had cultivated throughout his life continually restrained him. A monk who surrendered himself to hatred betrayed everything his cultivation represented. So he endured. He buried the anger beneath discipline. He silenced it through meditation. He convinced himself that restraint was enough.

Until today.

Now someone had finally given him permission to stop pretending.

The first night of the Blood Moon arrived. Its crimson glow spread across the heavens like diluted blood, bathing the forest beneath an unsettling light. Fu Ru slowly opened his eyes. The instant the moon appeared, he felt the change. His qi became noticeably heavier. Its circulation slowed as though unseen chains had wrapped around his cultivation. He calmly accepted the sensation.

If his strength had been suppressed, then so had everyone else’s. Rituals bound to celestial phenomena often carried mysteries that even immortals respected. This contest would be no exception.

He left the hollow tree without making a sound. His Holy Spirits guided him through the darkness until quiet voices drifted between the trees. Fu Ru concealed himself behind thick undergrowth. A man and woman walked together while carefully observing their surroundings.

“…We should continue searching before dawn,” the armored man said.

The woman nodded. “I agree, General Zhu Shin.”

“And you, Fan Shi,” Zhu Shin continued, “don’t wander too far from me.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Fu Ru memorized both names. Fan Shi. Zhu Shin. His prey had revealed themselves.

Without hesitation, he moved.

Silent Humbling Steps carried him across the forest floor without disturbing so much as a fallen leaf. His figure blurred through the darkness as his staff emerged from a pocket dimension into his waiting hand.

”Pillar Crushing Staff!”

The weapon descended with overwhelming force, carrying enough momentum to shatter boulders.

”Behind you, General!” Fan Shi shouted.

Her palm slammed against the ground. Formation lines hidden beneath the soil illuminated instantly.

Zhu Shin leaped skyward.

The staff smashed into empty earth.

Spectral chains exploded from the activated formation, coiling around Fu Ru’s limbs before tightening with astonishing force.

It was a trap. Zhu Shin extended his hand toward the heavens and a crimson spear emerged from the depths of his soul. Its shaft screamed as countless curses gathered around its blade.

With a single motion, he hurled it downward.

The spear pierced Fu Ru’s chest.

Its momentum continued unabated, drilling through ancient trees behind him until dozens collapsed in succession.

Blood sprayed across the forest, yet the wound vanished almost immediately. Miles away, an unsuspecting villager suddenly collapsed, a gaping hole appearing through his chest without warning.

Fu Ru’s injury had already disappeared.

Zhu Shin frowned. He stretched out his hand. The crimson spear reversed direction, spinning violently as it returned to its master. Its rotating blade sliced directly through Fu Ru’s waist. His body separated into two clean halves.

Again, the injury vanished, connecting the two halves just as quickly. Far away, another villager fell dead, his body severed without explanation.

Zhu Shin caught his returning spear. “What sorcery is this!?”

Fu Ru wasted no time. His movement technique erupted once more as he escaped the formation’s effective range.

“He heals too quickly!” Fan Shi observed while sprinting after him. “That isn’t the work of innate immortality!”

She pursued from the forest floor. Zhu Shin descended from above, bounding effortlessly between towering branches. The chase continued.

Suddenly, Zhu Shin accelerated. He landed atop a massive tree ahead of Fu Ru before driving his spear into the earth. Another hidden formation awakened. Gravity multiplied several times over. Fu Ru’s body abruptly slowed as overwhelming pressure forced him downward.

Fan Shi smiled coldly. The jade bangle around her wrist burst apart into countless black chains that wrapped around Fu Ru from every direction.

“Soul Rend!”

Before the technique connected, Fu Ru threw his staff high into the air.

“Castling.”

His body instantly exchanged places with the airborne weapon. The chains grasped nothing.

Both Zhu Shin and Fan Shi froze. Their eyes widened.

“Guardian techniques?” Zhu Shin muttered. ”But he’s using Castling on an inanimate object, how?”

Fu Ru landed atop a thick branch. Without hesitation, he tore away his upper robe. Intricate formation lines engraved across the cloth illuminated with blinding radiance. He cast the robe into the air. The formation unfolded like a sacred scripture.

“Divine Possession.”

The spell descended directly upon Zhu Shin. Because Fu Ru had cultivated his body until it had become nearly pure spirituality, no flesh remained behind. His entire existence dissolved into streams of divine light before rushing into Zhu Shin’s body. The possession succeeded instantly.

Zhu Shin’s pupils trembled. Then they stabilized. When they opened again, they no longer belonged to Zhu Shin. They belonged to Fu Ru.

He flexed unfamiliar fingers only once before diving toward the ground. The crimson spear answered his call without resistance. Fan Shi barely had enough time to raise her chains. Steel collided with crimson light. The impact echoed across the forest.

Fan Shi’s feet dug trenches through the earth as she struggled against the overwhelming force behind the spear. Her expression hardened with disbelief. She was no longer fighting the ally she had entered the forest with. She was fighting him, Fu Ren and his festering resentment.