Immortal Paladin

I started with simple experiments.

First, I tested my speed.

The old tree stood to my left, the ruined fountain ahead. I blinked—And the world lurched. The cracked stone was under my feet. The tree was now behind me.

It took me a second or maybe less.

One more time.

The world blurred around me, the ground barely existing beneath my feet. If I had been any slower to react, I might have tripped and crashed straight through a wall. I exhaled, my breath steady but my mind racing.

So this is what max-level Paladin Agility feels like.

Next, I tested my strength.

I threw a simple punch into the air—and the air snapped around my knuckles, a shockwave whistling past me.

Okay. Yeah. That’s definitely superhuman.

For balance, I executed a series of acrobatic tricks—flipping, spinning, landing on one foot atop a thin wooden post. My movements weren’t just precise; they were flawless, each action carried out with the efficiency of a battle-hardened warrior.

It was unnatural, yet intuitive—a paradox of power I was slowly beginning to understand.

I felt confident.

Now for the real test.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out one of my most prized weapons—

Silver Steel.

It was a legendary longsword, deceptively plain in appearance. No flashy runes, no glowing edge. Just a simple, well-crafted blade that happened to be sharp enough to cut through mythril.

Holding it in my hand, I felt an itch—a temptation, a desire to truly unleash my power.

I could test my magic, cast a spell, swing my sword with divine energy—

But I held myself back.

I was too close to the city, and if this world’s cultivators could sense power fluctuations like in the stories I’d read… well, let’s just say I didn’t feel like testing my PvP abilities this soon.

So I kept it simple.

Gripping Silver Steel in one hand, I relied on instinct, guided by the magical muscle memory ingrained in me.

My Monkey Grip passive skill allowed me to wield the massive sword with a single hand—something I had taken for granted in the game, but now fully appreciated in this reality.

With slow, deliberate movements, I began to swing the blade.

And suddenly—

The sword hummed in my grip, slicing through the air with eerie smoothness. My movements flowed, sharp yet effortless, like water cascading over polished stone as if I had practiced these strikes a thousand—no, ten thousand times before.

And with the flow of my sword, came the flow of memories.

My breath came ragged. My hands trembled, but not from exertion—this was deeper, a bone-deep wrongness crawling up my spine. I wasn’t just remembering.

I was slipping.

Slipping into someone else.

No, not someone else—me.

I saw glimpses—flashes of a life lived within a game.

A young warrior with a cheap iron sword, accepting his first quest.

A terrified rookie, standing face to face with his first goblin.

A gritty survivor, his hands trembling as he made his first kill.

The joy of his first class advancement. The thrill of victory, the agony of countless deaths and resurrections.

But the strangest part?

I wasn’t just remembering these events.

I was experiencing them.

And then—suddenly—

I saw it all from the third person.

I saw him.

David_69.

The game character I had played for years. The max-level Paladin who had fought and bled across countless dungeons, campaigns, and wars.

A brave warrior.

A true Paladin.

Someone who had upheld his oath until the very end.

And then—

I snapped back to reality.

I staggered, my breath harsh, my grip on Silver Steel tightening as I used it to prop myself up.

The memories had almost swallowed me whole.

It wasn’t just nostalgia. It wasn’t just some random flashback.

For a moment—just a brief, terrifying moment—I felt like I was losing myself.

Like I was becoming David_69.

I exhaled shakily, forcing myself to stay grounded in the present.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

And that?

That was the scariest part of all.

I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d experience this kind of xianxia bullshit.

Strange and bizarre phenomena? Check.

Unexplainable experiences suddenly springing on me? Check.

A nagging sense that reality itself might be a fever dream? Double check.

If this were a game, I’d probably see a quest marker flashing in my vision, urging me to “Uncover the Secrets of Your Transmigration!” or some other cryptic nonsense. Who knew? Maybe this entire world was just a simulation, and I was just a bunch of numbers and pixels?

Hell, maybe I was never real in the first place.

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head as I returned Silver Steel to my Item Box.

No use dwelling on existential crises when there were experiments to run.

The Item Box was confirmed to work. That was a win. But how far could I push gamer mechanics in this world?

Time to find out.

First test: Fast Travel.

I stood still, concentrated, and mentally commanded myself to teleport to… anywhere.

Nothing.

Okay. Next: World Map.

I tried opening an interface. Maybe a transparent map screen would appear in my vision?

Still nothing.

Mini-map?

Nada.

World Chat?

I even muttered, “/global Hello? Anyone?” under my breath.

Silence.

…Okay, what about the Premium Shop?

I dramatically raised my hand and called into the void.

“Open Premium Shop!”

Silence.

No glowing UI. No limited-time deals. No overpriced skins for weapons I already owned.

Truly, I was in hell.

I sighed. Well, there goes my dream of purchasing an instant power-up.

It was painfully clear that gamer logic wasn’t on my side. I couldn’t just grind monsters to level up. There were no menus, no convenient tutorials, and definitely no system messages explaining how to cultivate with a simple thought.

I was truly on my own.

So much for easy mode.

Since most of my gamer perks were useless, I returned to testing the Item Box instead.

It had worked for storing weapons and equipment, but could I weaponize it in creative ways?

Time for the Minecraft test.

I knelt down, placed my hands on the ground, and started digging dirt block-style, trying to shove raw earth into my inventory.

Nothing.

Damn. That would’ve been fun.

Still, the Item Box wasn’t entirely useless. Through trial and error, I figured out three key limitations:

I could store anything as long as it wasn’t alive. No shoving enemies into the void, sadly.The object had to be something I could hold with one or two hands. No lifting buildings or stealing mountains or landfills for fun.There were no visual cues when using it.That last part was the most important.

I only realized it way too late, but my Item Box had zero animations—no flashy light, no glowing effects, nothing.

Which meant…

I grinned as ideas flooded my mind.

Imagine it—hidden weapons appearing out of nowhere.

A dagger materializing in my hand mid-fight with no prior movement.

A healing potion summoned mid-swing, making me look unkillable.

Or better yet—an explosive flask hurled at an enemy’s face with zero warning.

Hah! You ain’t ready for me yet, cultivators!

I spent the next few hours testing more theories, pushing the limits of what I could do.

I still didn’t have a clear path forward, but one thing was certain—

Even if I couldn’t rely on gamer mechanics, I could still rely on creativity.

And if there was one thing Paladins were good at—

It was adapting to survive.

I was so tempted to test out my flashier skills.

Divine Smite? Would’ve been cool to see how it translated into this world.

Holy Wrath? Would it still incinerate the wicked?

Sanctuary? Could I just declare myself untouchable and walk away from all my problems?

But even I knew when to quit while I was ahead.

Especially when I suddenly had a visitor.

I sensed her before I saw her—mostly because a person standing on a flying sword wasn’t exactly subtle. She descended gracefully, the moonlight catching the edges of her pristine robes. Her stance was stiff, official, and exuded the kind of authority that screamed, Don’t mess with me unless you enjoy pain.

She had the look of someone in their early twenties, but given the existence of long lifespans in this world, she could have been fifty for all I knew.

Great. My first real encounter with a local cultivator, and it had to be a city enforcer.

I knew the look.

“State your name,” she said, her voice crisp and no-nonsense.

I hesitated for a moment. My full username from Lost Legends Online was David_69, but I wasn’t about to introduce myself like that.

“…David,” I said simply.

She frowned, as if rolling the name around in her mind, then gave a slow nod.

“Da Wei,” she said, completely butchering the pronunciation.

I blinked. That wasn’t even close. Did she mishear me? She probably had a high cultivation; if she really tried, she could probably get it right. But… looking at my own reflection in her polished pauldron, I had to admit—I kind of looked the part of a native. It was probably better this way.

“A proper greeting then,” she continued. “I am an official enforcer working for the city. My name is Liang Na.”

Liang Na showed me a silver plaque, showing proof of her affiliation.

I kept my poker face.

Close enough.

She studied me, her sharp eyes flickering with suspicion. 

“Your affiliation?”

I froze. A second too long.

Was traveler the right answer? Cultivators probably had clans, sects, or at least some kind of official background. Saying the wrong thing could mean getting labeled as a rogue.

I forced an easy smile. “Just a traveler.”

Her gaze sharpened.

Her gaze sharpened. “A traveling cultivator?”

I hesitated for the briefest of moments.

Technically, no. I was a Paladin. A holy warrior with divine magic. A knight of righteousness. A lawful good tank.

But in a world of qi, dao, and flying sword nonsense?

Yeah, that wasn’t going to translate well.

So I nodded. “You could say that.”

She gave me a slow, assessing look. “I see.”

I resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

The fact that she hadn’t immediately called me a fraud was good. She must have been watching me for a while, gauging my actions. My Divine Sense hadn’t picked her up, either because she was outside its range… or because she had no hostile intent.

Either way, I was now on the radar of an official enforcer of Yellow Dragon City.

And that meant I had to be very careful about my next steps.

I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “So… is there a problem?”

Liang Na gave me a cool, measured look before shaking her head. “No problem. Just a warning.”

I frowned. Warnings were never good. “A warning for what, exactly?”

She exhaled through her nose, as if already tired of this conversation. “You used a spell on a civilian.”

Oh.

Ohhh.

So that little Divine Word: Rest trick I pulled on Young Master Zhao earlier did catch someone’s attention. That was unfortunate. I was hoping to avoid trouble.

“…I wouldn’t really call it a spell,” I muttered, scratching my cheek. “More like… a harmless suggestion.”

Liang Na gave me an unimpressed stare. “A suggestion that rendered someone unconscious.”

“Harmlessly unconscious,” I clarified. “And, if I may add, peacefully unconscious.”

Her expression remained unreadable, though I swore I saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth. “Regardless, do not use spells on civilians in the future.”

Noted.

I gave her a slow nod. “Duly warned.”

She cupped her fist in a respectful gesture. “I hope I haven’t troubled you, Young Master.”

Politeness? Or a subtle way of trying to get on my good side? Either way, I returned the gesture. “It’s fine.”

“Young Master Da,” she said again, sticking with her earlier misinterpretation. “It is fine to use spells as long as no civilian is harmed. It is also acceptable for you to use martial arts within the city grounds as long as it is for self-defense or if it won’t harm any civilian. Do you understand?”

I sighed internally. I guess Da Wei was my name now.

“I trust I’m not in any trouble, then?” I asked, arching a brow.

She let out a breath. “No, you handled the incident in the inn well enough. Many cultivators from esteemed clans or sects tend to come to Yellow Dragon City this time of year to indulge in mortal festivities. It is… exhausting dealing with them.”

That made sense. A bunch of privileged, superpowered rich kids descending on a city for a festival? That was a recipe for chaos.

“So… I take it Young Master Zhao is one of those privileged troublemakers?” I guessed.

Liang Na’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Among many others. Though, he’s considered more as a civilian, than an important scion.”

I hummed in understanding. She must’ve thought I was just another ignorant Young Master out to enjoy the mortal world. But, since I had resolved the incident in an amiable manner instead of, say, smiting Zhao into the dirt, I had somehow landed in her good books.

Interesting.

My curiosity got the better of me.

Feigning slight offense, I asked bluntly, “Why do you think I’m a Young Master?” I made sure to inject a bit of youthful arrogance into my tone—just enough to make it seem like I cared about the assumption.

Liang Na’s eyes sharpened ever so slightly. “A junior in cultivation should know where he stands.”

Ah. That was a warning. A very subtle but very real warning.

I schooled my expression immediately and bowed slightly. “I see. My apologies.”

She gave a slow nod, seemingly satisfied with my reaction.

Lesson learned—tread carefully.

I wasn’t in trouble yet, but I had definitely landed on someone’s radar.