Immortal Paladin

Morning arrived, washing away the lingering remnants of the night with golden light. The air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of sizzling street food, incense, and freshly brewed tea. The once-quiet city had transformed into a bustling sea of activity.

Stalls lined the streets, their colorful canopies flapping gently in the breeze. Merchants called out to passersby, advertising everything from silk robes embroidered with golden dragons to charms that promised good fortune. Musicians played lively tunes on their guqins and pipas, their melodies blending with the excited chatter of visitors from all walks of life.

People of different backgrounds filled the streets. Wealthy nobles dressed in extravagant robes strolled leisurely, flanked by servants carrying parasols. Cultivators, easily distinguishable by their flowing garments and the occasional weapon strapped to their backs, moved with the quiet confidence of those accustomed to power. Common folk wove through the crowd, eager to enjoy the festival’s delights. Children ran past me, laughing as they waved paper lanterns shaped like mythical beasts.

I took my time observing everything, cataloging details that might be useful later. The festival wasn’t just a celebration—it was an opportunity. A gathering of so many different people meant an abundance of information, and I intended to take full advantage of that.

Still, I couldn’t help but think back to Liang Na.

She had called me a junior in cultivation. The way I saw it, that meant she had misjudged my power. That was good.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely her fault. My abilities didn’t run on qi—the power cultivators used to gauge each other’s strength. That meant most people in this world shouldn’t be able to detect my power level. To them, I probably seemed like some privileged Young Master with decent martial prowess but nothing too impressive.

That gave me an advantage.

If people underestimated me, I could use that as leverage—either to stay out of trouble or catch opponents off guard. But there was a downside too. If no one took me seriously, I might end up being dismissed outright in situations where authority mattered.

I sighed. Another thing to keep in mind.

For now, I needed to focus. If there was anything in this city that could give me a breakthrough—some hint about how to navigate this world—it would be here, amid the chaos of the festival.

I walked at a leisurely pace, blending in with the crowd as best as I could. As I passed by different stalls, I caught snippets of conversation from visitors.

A group of young scholars, dressed in fine yet practical robes, stood near a tea house, admiring the city’s architecture.

“This is my first time in Yellow Dragon City,” one of them said, adjusting his jade hairpin. “I must admit, the craftsmanship of these buildings is unparalleled. Such delicate carvings on the wooden beams… even the capital doesn’t compare.”

Another nodded in agreement. “It is because the artisans here are directly sponsored by the City Lord’s family. They attract the best talent from across the continent.”

A woman in a traveling cloak stopped by a street vendor, inspecting a collection of delicate, hand-painted fans. She hummed thoughtfully as she picked one up.

“I hear the festival this year is grander than usual,” she mused. “The City Lord must be trying to impress some important guests.”

The vendor, an elderly man with a long white beard, chuckled. “You’re not wrong, miss. Cultivators from major sects have already arrived. Some say a great opportunity awaits in the city—though no one knows what form it will take.”

I paused slightly at that. A great opportunity?

A few steps away, a pair of young men, both dressed in traveling gear, were eagerly discussing something over bowls of steaming noodles.

“I heard that the auction house will be displaying an ancient artifact this time,” one said between bites. “Something related to an old sect that vanished centuries ago.”

His friend scoffed. “You believe every rumor you hear. What are the chances of that being true?”

“I don’t know, but a friend of mine saw a few elders from the Cloud Mist Sect enter the city last night. They wouldn’t be here unless something big was happening.”

I frowned slightly.

That was the second time I heard something about cultivators gathering in the city for more than just the festival. Was this the kind of lead I was looking for?

I continued my stroll, filing away every bit of information.

At the very least, I now had a clearer picture of the city’s importance. It wasn’t just a random settlement—it was a hub, a place where influential figures and powerful sects crossed paths. That meant I couldn’t afford to remain ignorant.

If I wanted to survive—and thrive—in this world, I needed to know more. About the cultivation system. About the sects and their hierarchies. About the way people wielded power and influence.

I would find my breakthrough soon enough.

For now, I just had to keep my eyes open.

And surprise, surprise—the breakthrough came to me.

It wasn’t through research, nor through careful observation. No, fate had a sense of humor, and my first real step toward understanding this world came in the form of a robbery.

I stood in a dimly lit alleyway, the lively festival now a distant hum behind me. The air was damp, the scent of old wood and stone filling my lungs. In front of me stood a bandit-looking fellow, dressed in ragged clothes with a balaclava obscuring most of their face. Their eyes—sharp and gleaming with hostility—were locked onto me with predatory intent.

A knife quivered on the wall behind me, embedded deep in the brick.

A casual throw? Hardly. A superhuman feat like that suggested cultivation.

I exhaled slowly. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I went looking for information, but I wasn’t complaining. How was this a breakthrough? Simple—I wouldn’t feel bad about beating this guy up.

Even better? I could help rehabilitate him.

The bandit rolled his shoulders, taking a step closer. “Tch. You’re taking too long to react, Young Master. Usually, people are already begging by now.”

I kept my expression neutral. “And what exactly am I supposed to beg for?”

“Your life, of course.” He tapped the handle of another knife at his hip. “Strip. Give me everything—your robes, your treasures, your storage ring. Do that, and I might spare you.”

I arched a brow. Bold. Straight to the point. I could respect that.

“Let me get this straight,” I said, folding my arms. “You want me to strip, hand over all my valuables, and then you’ll consider sparing my life?”

He grinned beneath the mask. “That’s the idea.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Interesting.”

And then—

I vanished.

The bandit barely had time to react before I reappeared—right behind him.

I moved with Flash Step, the world blurring for an instant as I covered the distance between us in the blink of an eye. He stiffened, his instincts screaming at him, but it was already too late.

Thud.

I shoved him forward, forcing him into the dead-end of the alley. He stumbled, barely catching himself before slamming into the wall. His breath hitched, and I could feel his panic setting in.

Before he could fully turn, I leaned in and spoke—word for word—exactly what he had told me just moments ago.

“Strip.” My voice was low, carrying a quiet authority. “Give up your treasures, your storage ring, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll spare your life.”

The bandit froze.

I couldn’t see his expression beneath the mask, but I imagined it was priceless.

The bandit hesitated for only a second.

Then, to my utter shock—she actually started stripping.

I blinked. Wait. What?

The thief—no, this person—was trembling, hands shaking as she fumbled with the ragged layers of clothing she wore. Her breath hitched, her entire body tense with fear.

I had meant it as a power move, a way to flip the script and intimidate them the same way they had tried to intimidate me. But the way she reacted—there was no bravado, no anger, just pure fear.

This world must be really terrible.

“P-please, Senior!” she suddenly cried, dropping to her knees. “I—I don’t have any treasures! I don’t have a storage ring! I was just trying to survive! Spare me, and I’ll do anything! Anything!”

What kind of xianxia bullshit development is this?!

I barely processed her words before realizing another important detail.

She. She.

I had assumed I was dealing with a male bandit, but now that I was actually looking, the signs were there—her frame was lean but slightly curved, and her voice, though rough, carried a distinctly feminine lilt. Her baggy rags and balaclava had disguised it well, but there was no mistaking it now.

And now, she was kowtowing to me, forehead pressed against the dirty stone ground.

I felt like an absolute asshole.

Great. Just great.

I let out a long sigh, rubbing my temple. I had been hoping for a low-level chump I could rough up a bit and extract information from—y’know, a classic bandit interrogation. But instead, I had cornered what looked like a half-starved woman who was just trying to survive.

I glanced at her again, taking in the full picture.

She was thin—too thin. Not quite skeletal, but definitely malnourished. Her arms were wrapped in old, tattered bandages, and what little skin was exposed was rough, like someone who had been through too many fights and too little proper rest.

Was this really a cultivator?

If she was, she wasn’t a strong one. Maybe she had some minor cultivation, just enough to enhance her body a bit, but from what I could see, she was nowhere near the level of someone like Liang Na.

Just my luck.

“No need to disrobe yourself,” I exhaled through my nose. “Get up.”

She flinched but obeyed, rising to her knees, hands still clasped together in desperate pleading.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

Her head remained bowed, but she answered quickly, voice small. “Gu Jie.”

I sighed again. This is going to be a pain in the ass.

Still… she was the best source of information I had.