Immortal Paladin

[POV: Nongmin]

It took Nongmin a little more effort to bring Kong Bo down.

The Sword Emperor was an extraordinary martial cultivator, and Nongmin had no desire to waste the precious techniques he had ’memorized’ from the Holy Emperor merely to overwhelm him through brute force. Instead, he had resorted to Smites.

The ultimate techniques of the Holy Emperor were precious.

Nongmin possessed something akin to memories of those techniques, allowing him to expend them to cast the Holy Emperor’s powers. However, those memories were not limitless. Every technique he used consumed a portion of what he possessed, meaning he needed to be selective.

There was no reason to waste such treasures.

Moreover, using such powers was not that simple. He had already learned that the hard way. He had used Heavenly Punishment earlier, and the consequences had been unpleasant.

Parts of his body remained numb.

His fingers occasionally twitched without his permission, while several areas of his flesh had lost sensation entirely. Even now, Nongmin could still feel the remnants of the technique’s backlash spreading through his body.

Divine powers were far more complicated than they appeared.

Their flashy and brutish effects were merely the surface.

That made sense.

These were the powers that had granted Da Wei authority over life itself. With them, the Holy Emperor could resurrect countless existences with hardly any limitations at all. Such power could not possibly be simple.

Nongmin’s reserves had also taken a considerable hit.

The amount of qi required to execute Heavenly Punishment had been enormous. Even as an immortal existence, he had been forced to consume a considerable number of spirit stones afterward just to replenish what he had expended.

He would need to be more careful.

Fortunately, Kong Bo was finally down. Nongmin stood before the fallen Sword Emperor and extended his hand. Immortality surged from Kong Bo’s body. The immortal essence flowed into Nongmin. His cultivation rose. He had already absorbed the immortality of Zhu Shin and Lai Lan. Now, with Kong Bo’s immortality added to his own, the transformation became undeniable. His realm advanced into a Level 4 Ascended Soul.

Nongmin closed his eyes for a moment and examined his own existence. Four distinct layers of immortality existed within him. Each layer reinforced the others, creating a foundation far more stable than what he had possessed when he first entered the competition.

He opened his eyes.

“Now, time to look for Tian Mei.”

His orders spread through the network connecting him to his puppets. The Dragoons immediately began following his commands. The barrier remained intact. There had been no attempt to penetrate it from the outside, nor had anyone managed to escape from within. That meant they were still in the city.

Not long ago, one of his Dragoons had detected Tian Mei’s group, so they shouldn’t have gone far.

Nongmin had followed the strange spell that had possessed Kong Bo upon his death. It was some manner of possession technique, one that had allowed Tian Mei to seize control of the Sword Emperor’s body.

He followed the lingering traces of the technique.

Eventually, he reached the area where his Dragoons had last detected Tian Mei’s party. Nothing remained. The ruins were empty.

A voice came from behind him.

“Hey, you.”

Nongmin stopped.

A figure appeared in the ruined city. The moment Nongmin saw him, something stirred within his blood. He knew who this figure was by heart right now, regardless if it was his choice or not.

This was the first time Nongmin had ever met the Supreme Heart.

Even so, there was no mistaking him.

The figure before him was merely a projection, but the blood connection between them was undeniable. It was an instinctive recognition that went beyond appearance, memory, or logic.

Nongmin stared at the projection of consciousness.

“Father.”

The word escaped his mouth like a hiss. He failed to hide the contempt in his voice.

The Supreme Heart, however, merely laughed.

“Don’t be so cold to your old man.”

His projected body approached with an easygoing smile, completely unconcerned by the hostility radiating from Nongmin.

“As expected of my favorite son!”

“You didn’t even know I existed,” said Nongmin.

He studied the Supreme Heart’s projection carefully, trying to understand why his father had appeared before him now. Their blood connection explained how Heart had located him, but it did not explain why he had bothered to come personally.

Something must have happened.

Knowing Da Wei, Nongmin could reasonably assume that the Holy Emperor had done something reckless, insane, or both, forcing the Supreme Heart to take action.

“That’s true,” said Heart, nodding to himself. “But you’re Xin Yune’s son, so that counts.”

Nongmin’s eyes narrowed.

“What exactly is my mother to you?”

He paused.

“I know for certain that she’s a fragment of the Goddess of Oblivion. As far as the laws of reincarnation are concerned, she’s a newborn existence that should have nothing to do with an existence as ancient as you.”

His gaze sharpened.

“It just doesn’t make sense.”

Ever since the frontier of the Greater Universe had opened to them, Nongmin’s curiosity had never been more intense.

There were too many unanswered questions.

The nature of souls was one of them.

According to Hei Mao, who now acted as the god of the newly rebuilt Underworld, an existence normally possessed six souls. One was the primary soul, another was the secondary soul, while the remaining four were tertiary souls.

The primary soul would be reincarnated with its essence largely intact. The others, however, were scattered throughout the cycle of reincarnation. Those fragments became new souls with new lives and new existences. That was how an expanding universe produced more souls for the countless lives that would eventually inhabit it. If that was the natural order, then Xin Yune should have been an incomplete existence.

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She was a fragment.

A newborn soul born from something that had existed before her.

She should have had no connection to histories that preceded her birth, especially those involving an existence as ancient as the Supreme Heart. And yet, there was a connection. The only reasonable explanation Nongmin could find was the Goddess of Oblivion, Meng Po. The connection between his mother and Heart could only become more complicated from there.

“I can’t say,” Heart replied cryptically. “Maybe if you tell me how you were conceived, I’ll tell you. For some reason, my memory of you is faint, as if I forgot about you. And I never forget a face.”

Nongmin’s expression remained unchanged. Internally, however, he became more cautious. He could not answer that question. His existence was a taboo.

The memories surrounding his conception had been deliberately erased by his past self for a reason. Now that he had recovered them, those memories had become one of the greatest weaknesses he possessed. He still did not understand the entire purpose behind what his past self had done. He did not know the endgame. He did not even know exactly what role he had been created to fulfill.

But he knew one thing. Whatever his past self had been preparing for, it could not possibly have been good. Revealing that information to the Supreme Heart would be foolish. Nongmin needed to deflect. Fortunately, he had a good example to emulate in Da Wei’s how to masterfully handle uncomfortable questions. Sometimes, the best strategy was simply to be crass.

“My father fucked my mother.”

Heart’s smile froze.

Nongmin continued with complete seriousness. “You know how it goes. The male inserts his reproductive organ into the female reproductive tract, producing reproductive fluid containing sperm cells, commonly referred to as semen, which—”

“Enough!” Heart raised both hands. “Enough, enough! I get it!”

“If that is all, I shall return to the contest at hand and win you glory, Father,” Nongmin remarked diplomatically.

The Supreme Heart laughed. “You do know that I was throwing this game, right? I need Da Wei to win.”

Nongmin’s expression did not change. Was he being tested? He had no idea. But if the Supreme Heart had deliberately confronted him like this, Nongmin had little choice but to answer carefully. There was no telling whether Heart could see through lies. Nongmin would rather not take the chance. Da Wei, the Supreme Bearer himself, could see through falsehoods. A Supreme Being like Heart should presumably possess something comparable.

The problem was not merely lying. It was hiding the source of his knowledge.

Nongmin had recovered pieces of memories that his past self had deliberately erased. Those memories were dangerous precisely because he did not know why they had been erased in the first place. He could not simply explain where his knowledge came from without exposing himself.

“I am aware,” Nongmin said. “But to what end?”

He deliberately phrased the question as though it were nothing more than curiosity.

In truth, it was.

Nongmin genuinely did not understand Heart’s motivations. Not emotionally. Not logically. None of this made sense to him. There were pieces of the puzzle that he simply did not possess.

The Supreme Heart’s smile disappeared.

“You tell me.”

His eyes had become cold as frost.

Nongmin remained silent.

Heart was fishing for a reaction, and Nongmin would give him none. He merely stared back at his father, refusing to move or speak. He would not allow his expression to betray the thoughts racing through his mind. For several seconds, the two stared at one another. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the tension vanished.

Heart’s expression softened. He tapped Nongmin lightly on the shoulder. “Just pulling your leg, son.”

Nongmin stared at him. “But to what end?”

Heart paused. Nongmin had asked the same question again. He was not letting it go. The Supreme Heart’s smile returned.

“Like I said, you tell me.”

Then his projection vanished.

Nongmin remained standing amid the ruins. Silence surrounded him. Only then did he realize that he was sweating profusely. His clothes clung to his body, and droplets of sweat ran down his face. His mind was racing. If the Supreme Heart was throwing this match, why had he added Nongmin to his list of champions?

It made sense that Heart would want to make a show of force. He needed champions capable of fighting back. If Da Wei’s opponents were too weak, the outcome would be obvious. Da Wei would suspect the intentions of the Supreme Heart. Heart needed to create the illusion of certainty. He needed Da Wei to believe that victory was genuinely possible and that his opponent also sought victory.

That made the contest convincing and Heart’s eventual defeat believable.

But why Nongmin? Why him?

Nongmin’s thoughts became tangled.

Deep down in Nongmin’s heart, he knew what he wanted. He wanted Da Wei to lose. Not because he hated the Holy Emperor, but because he did not want Da Wei to fall for whatever trap the Supreme Heart had prepared.

He wanted Da Wei to survive. He wanted him to win.

No.

That was not right.

Nongmin’s thoughts suddenly stopped.

’In Nongmin’s heart...’

He froze.

’In Nongmin’s heart...?’

His breathing became shallow.

Shit.

It was already there.

Wasn’t it?

He had been unable to tell this entire time. Something had already been placed within his heart. But how could he be certain? What did it even mean for something to be within his heart? Could he trust his own heart? Could he even trust himself?

His hand slowly moved toward his chest.

What if his heart was not truly his own? What if something had been placed there long ago? And what if the Supreme Heart, the Supreme who ruled over hearts, actually reigned supreme within it?

Nongmin’s expression became grim.

In Da Wei’s language, there was only one appropriate description for this situation: a shit storm.

Nongmin realized just how deep the situation might actually go. He could not trust the memories he had recovered. And now, he could not even completely trust himself. That left him with very little. He could not solve everything at once. He did not know the entire truth. He did not know what his past self had been planning. He did not know what Heart had placed within him, if anything. He did not even know whether his own desires were truly his.

The only thing he could do was trust his convictions.

Whatever happened, he would act according to what he believed was right. And he would give everything he had.

A faint ripple passed through the network connecting him to his puppets.

“Found you,” Nongmin remarked with a sigh.

His consciousness followed the signal from his Dragoons.

However, Nongmin remained conflicted.

In the end, Nongmin decided to pray. He lowered his head amid the ruins of the city and closed his eyes. For the first time since the contest began, he did not know what to do.

“Great Guard, Da Wei…”

His voice was quiet.

“I ask for your guidance. If I have lost my way, then show me where I should walk. If my convictions are false, then give me the strength to recognize them.”

He paused.

“Please.”

The prayer disappeared into the silence.

Nongmin had no expectation that anything would happen. Yet since the Supreme Heart had appeared before him, he had begun to suspect that perhaps Da Wei could do the same. It was clearly a violation of the rules.

Contests had rules for a reason.

They existed to make conflicts fair, establish boundaries, and prevent two parties from escalating their conflict into something far worse.

If one side could simply interfere whenever they wished, then there was little meaning in having a contest at all. And if the Supreme Heart had already projected himself into the arena, Nongmin suspected things would only continue escalating from here.

His intuition proved correct.

A familiar figure appeared before him, a dream. Da Wei stood amid the ruined city, his golden aura illuminating the darkness.

“That was unexpected.”

The Holy Emperor stared at him.

“To think that you would actually pray for me at this point is just unthinkable.”

His expression twisted into an exaggerated pout.

“What do you want, traitor?”

“The Supreme Heart just appeared before me,” revealed Nongmin without missing a beat. “And now, apparently, you have as well. What happened?”

Da Wei scratched his cheek. “I might have taken the arbiter hostage?”

Nongmin grimaced. He did not know precisely what duties the arbiter possessed. But assuming they were using the same terminology, the position existed to oversee the contest, judge its proceedings, and ensure that both sides followed the rules.

That explained quite a bit. No wonder the Supreme Heart had decided to project himself into the arena. Da Wei clearly followed Heart’s example.

“So? Why turn coat? The letter—”

Da Wei was about to talk the secret letter that Nongmin gave him, so Nongmin cut him off. “The Supreme Heart told me that he intends to throw this match away.”

Da Wei stopped. His expression became one of genuine disbelief. “Why?” He stared at Nongmin. “And even if that’s the case, why should I trust you?”

Any lie he told would be useless. Da Wei would see through it. Nongmin knew that much. The problem was that the Supreme Heart might be watching them. If Nongmin revealed his true intentions, there was no telling what Heart might do.

Nongmin needed to choose his words carefully.

“I came to this match to win.”

His voice remained steady.

“So I am going to give everything I have to win.”

Da Wei frowned. “Why tell me this?”

“To make it fair.”

The words left Nongmin’s mouth before he could reconsider them.

The truth was that he was lost. He did not understand what was happening anymore. He needed advice. Yet perhaps there was another answer. A clash of convictions. If Nongmin’s conviction was correct, then he should be able to stand by it. If he was wrong, then reality itself would prove him wrong.

That was fair.

At least, it sounded fair.

Da Wei stared at him for several seconds, and then his expression softened. “From where I’m standing, even I can tell. Nongmin, you’re feeling conflicted. Aren’t you? That’s fine. We all feel conflicted sometimes. But this is too much. Do you see this city around you? As mortal as they were, they were still people.”

“They were sacrifices.”

“No.” Da Wei’s response came immediately. “You’re in way over your head this time. You are not yourself. Please. Come back to us.”

Nongmin remained silent, holding himself steady both in mind and spirit. The words struck deeper than he wanted to admit, yet he could not allow himself to waver. “I’ve already said my piece.” His voice became cold. “Away with you.”

For a moment, the Holy Emperor looked as though he wanted to say something else. Instead, sadness appeared in his eyes. Then his body began dissolving. Golden motes drifted into the air. Nongmin watched silently as the final fragment of Da Wei disappeared. The dream ended. He was alone once more. Nongmin lowered his head. His prayer had been answered. Yet somehow, he felt even more lost than before.