Immortal Paladin

I crouched and ran my fingers through the scorched earth where Heavenly Punishment had landed. The dirt had turned into dark ash, almost like fine powder. It smelled faintly of cinder and metal, a peculiar scent that reminded me of smelting iron in a forge. I picked up a handful and let it slip between my fingers. The texture felt… refined, almost unnatural for something that had been regular dirt mere moments ago.

Jiang Zhen must have noticed my curiosity because he leaned in, scooped up a bit of the sandy ash, and inspected it closely. Then, to my horror, he tasted it... smeared it on his tongue.

I pointed to the side. “If you need to touch grass, there’s a lot over there.”

He ignored me, rubbing the ash between his fingers before tasting another pinch of it. His brows furrowed in thought. “This is… Thunder Sand? With just technique alone, you refined mundane dirt into a spiritual resource?” He exhaled in disbelief. “Huh? Just how high is your realm, fellow Daoist?”

I grimaced. “Yuck… I’d rather you treat me like you used to, Changcheng.”

His eye twitched. “I told you, my name is—You know what? Never mind. I should probably call you grandpa, because you might even be older than me.”

Jiang Zhen took another pinch of ash and tasted it again.

I crossed my arms. “I am not your grandpa. And can you please stop taste-testing ash?”

He smacked his lips as if savoring a fine delicacy. “Well, since you’re being dodgy about your realm and I can’t get a read on you, I’ll just have to deduce it based on what we have here.”

Then, to my growing horror, he took a mouthful of the sandy ash and thoroughly chewed on it.

I stared at him, speechless.

Jiang Zhen hummed, nodding to himself. “I can definitely taste Buddhist principles in this… perhaps even exorcism principles. Interesting… interesting…”

I wished I could also taste principles. Maybe I could have just eaten my college textbooks back then and graduated with ease. No all-nighters, no last-minute cramming—just a bite of calculus and boom, instant knowledge.

But as amusing as the thought was, it didn’t help me figure out how this particular result affected my fighting style. Clearly, a game’s physics engine didn’t translate well into real life—especially not in fantasy xianxia land, where the rules of reality bent on a whim.

I turned my gaze to Jiang Zhen, who was still chewing on that ashen dirt like it was some kind of exotic delicacy. “So… how did you dodge my Heavenly Punishment?”

Jiang Zhen frowned at the name of my technique, his expression turning stern. “What kind of arrogant fool names their technique Heavenly Punishment?”

I blinked. “Uh, me?” Correction: it was the Game Devs.

He clicked his tongue, ready to scold me further—then paused. His brows furrowed as he reconsidered. “Hmmm… Actually, never mind. That was a damn near heavenly punishment.”

“Damn right, it was.” I gestured to the wasteland my attack had left behind. “Now, stop dodging the question. How did you survive that? I mean, you didn’t just tank it, right?”

Jiang Zhen let out a huff, clearly pleased with himself. “It was a beginner technique. Every disciple learns it within the Isolation Path Sect.” That was a nice clue to the geezer’s identity. Maybe he was an Elder of the Isolation Path Sect?

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. “…A beginner technique?”

“Yes.”

I rubbed my temples. “A beginner technique lets you dodge my probably strongest Ultimate Skill?”

Jiang Zhen shrugged. “It’s versatile, easy to learn, and an incredibly useful life-saving skill.”

I stared at him even harder.

He scratched his cheek, looking a little sheepish. “Though, to be fair, I’ve never thought to use it the way I just did.”

“…What do you mean?”

Jiang Zhen cleared his throat. “I, uh… well, I sort of… traversed kilometers deep underground to evade your attack.”

I nearly choked on my own breath. “You what?”

He gestured vaguely toward the ground. “As soon as I realized I couldn’t dodge your technique normally, I used the skill to burrow myself as deep as possible. I just kept going down until I was certain I wouldn’t get hit.”

I didn’t even have words for how absurd that sounded.

Once again, it hit me just how ridiculous this xianxia world was. Kilometers underground? Just to dodge an attack? I mean, sure, Heavenly Punishment was awe-inspiring, but digging kilometers below? That wasn’t evasion—that was geological migration!

No player in Lost Legends Online would ever be able to do that. Maybe a Geomancer class could attempt something similar, but even then, their burrowing would be limited by mana cost, terrain resistance, and skill level.

But here?

This insane burial technique was just a beginner skill.

I exhaled slowly, still trying to wrap my head around the absurdity of it all. “Alright, so how is this digging technique normally used?”

Jiang Zhen smirked but held up a finger. “A question for a question.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Can I take this Thunder Sand? Some disciples in my sect would find it useful.”

The darkened sand still crackled faintly with residual energy, the result of my Heavenly Punishment refining mundane dirt into something more. I wasn’t exactly attached to it, and I certainly wasn’t going to eat it.

“Fine, take them away.”

Jiang Zhen grinned. Then, to my utter horror, he reached into his mouth and pulled out a storage ring.

I took a step back. “What the hell—”

He casually slipped the ring onto his finger. “What? You don’t store your valuables in your mouth?”

“No, because I’m not insane.”

Ignoring me, Jiang Zhen activated the ring, and in a flash of light, a shovel appeared in his hands. But instead of using it like a normal person, he did something far more absurd.

He thrust the shovel into the ground—once, cleanly.

And then, just like that, a chunk of Thunder Sand vanished, as if the world itself had decided to eat it.

Jiang Zhen repeated the motion again. Thrust. Vanish. Thrust. Vanish.

The sand wasn’t piling up anywhere. It wasn’t being physically shoveled. It was just… disappearing. Probably teleported directly into his storage ring.

I crossed my arms and watched. “That’s not how shovels work.”

Jiang Zhen chuckled. “That’s not how reality works either, yet here we are.”

“So? How did you do it? Digging?”

Jiang Zhen continued his absurd digging while explaining, “The technique doesn’t have much renown, but it’s compulsory for disciples in the Isolation Path Sect to learn. Fairly easy to pick up, but hard to master.”

I watched as yet another section of Thunder Sand vanished into his ring. “And what exactly does this beginner technique do?”

“For most people,” he said, stabbing his shovel into the ground, “it allows them to burrow, hide underground, move beneath the surface, and even use it to bury their foes.” He flicked a glance at me. “In my case, I used it to escape downward. It was quite the zigzag trip considering the varied density of earth I had to deal with.”

That part gave me pause. “Wait, you mean you didn’t just phase through the ground?”

Jiang Zhen scoffed. “Of course not. I physically traveled downwards. Had to actively navigate past obstacles, too. If anyone other than me tried something like that, they’d probably be crushed between rocks, charred in a magma vein, have their qi thrown into chaos in a dragon vein, or suffer any number of ‘unfortunate’ accidents.”

I frowned. “So you’re saying this beginner skill requires advanced terrain awareness just so you don’t die?”

Jiang Zhen grinned. “Naturally. We are the Isolation Path Sect. Surviving what should be certain death is one of our core principles.”

That… sounded like a whole lot of not beginner-friendly to me.

“The sect’s founder was an undertaker,” Jiang Zhen continued, tossing another mouthful of Thunder Sand into his ring. “Took corpses, buried them. The original intent of this technique was for ceremonial funerals.”

I blinked. “So you’re telling me the life-saving escape art of your sect was originally meant for digging graves?”

“Exactly.” Jiang Zhen nodded. “A proper burial is an art, you know.”

That was way more information than I expected. Then again, maybe it was just Jiang Zhen being in a good mood after acquiring so much Thunder Sand.

Jiang Zhen was making quick work of the scorched patch of dirt, shoveling away the Thunder Sand like he was born to dig. His movements were efficient—almost mechanical—but I could tell he was still paying attention to me.

“What is your realm?” he asked.

I exhaled, resting my sword on my shoulder. “That’s… difficult to answer.”

Jiang Zhen raised an eyebrow. “Try me, Mr. Foreigner.”

Well, this was a golden opportunity. Reading books and asking around only got me so far. Jiang Zhen was clearly a high-level cultivator and knew a lot, so I might as well take advantage of this impromptu Q&A.

“From what I understand, cultivation has eleven levels, correct?”

Jiang Zhen nodded. “That was the highest recorded in history, but yes.”

I continued, “From where I come from, the highest recorded is 275.”

Jiang Zhen stopped digging. Turned to me. Stared. “…Come again?”

“275.”

He scoffed. “You counted the stars, didn’t you? No need. Just tell me the major realms.”

That was a problem. Lost Legends Online technically had major realm divisions, but they were vague and unreliable. Players never really cared about them since our Level Display made things clear-cut.

I scratched my cheek. “I guess a good analogy would be… we only have minor realms. So the highest record from where I came from is Level 275.”

Jiang Zhen gave me a look that could be best described as What in the cosmic fuck?

“…Where are you even from?” he asked.

I waved a hand. “Horribly far away. I can’t even think of a way to go home.” Then, before he could fire another question, I smirked. “That aside, you asked two consecutive questions, so now it’s my turn.”

Jiang Zhen huffed, clearly unsatisfied. “You didn’t even answer my question. What realm are you?”

I sighed. “Like I said, it’s difficult to answer. How about you educate me on these realms you keep talking about? You know, the ones I’m clearly and painfully unaware of.”

He crossed his arms, shovel resting against his shoulder. “Hmph… fine.” He eyed me as if assessing how much of a clueless foreigner I really was. “How much do you even know?”

I thought back to the scattered bits of information I’d picked up since arriving here. “Until the Fourth Realm, give or take.”

Jiang Zhen nodded. “Then you’re in luck. I know up until the Sixth Realm.” He dusted off his robe, standing a little taller. “I, myself, am at the Fifth Realm, called the Soul Recognition Realm.”

I blinked. That was… unexpectedly open of him. I figured cultivators would be secretive about their realms, or at least make me work for that kind of information.

Jiang Zhen continued, “It is achieved when a person reaches enlightenment and has a glimpse of the Dao.”

I nodded, digesting the information. “A glimpse of the Dao, huh…? Sounds deep.”

Jiang Zhen scoffed. “More than deep, it is the foundation of one’s future path. Without enlightenment, there is no true progression.”

Huh. That’s gonna be a problem…

I planned to take on cultivation, but I’m not that bright of a lad… Maybe I could brute-force it with stats? Nah, I’d hate to accidentally cripple myself.

Jiang Zhen continued digging as he spoke, his movements precise and practiced. “And then comes the Sixth Realm, the Essence Gathering Realm.” His shovel struck the dirt, and another portion of Thunder Sand vanished into his storage ring. “The qi, elements, and power here in Riverfall Continent are quite thin, so most fellas are stuck in the Fifth Realm.”

I frowned. “That bad, huh?”

Jiang Zhen let out a tired sigh. “Bad is an understatement. I was hoping I could find a clue from you, maybe something that could help me advance without leaving the continent.” He shook his head. “Knowledge about cultivation realms beyond the Sixth Realm is scarce here. Because frankly, Riverfall is quite the backwater.”

I hummed, pretending to think deeply. In reality, I was still trying to wrap my head around how my Level 275 Paladin self fit into their cultivation mold.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

Obviously, these realms had nothing to do with my old LLO power system. If we had some kind of conversion chart, maybe I could’ve made a guess. But considering I didn’t, the best I could do was make a vague, half-truth answer.

I shrugged. “I’m probably at the Sixth Realm.”

Jiang Zhen finally stopped digging, letting out a satisfied sigh as he dusted his hands off. “You might have just created a spiritual mineral vein.”

I stared at the sunken patch of earth he had excavated. Tendrils of silvery, sparkly veins slithered around like living metal, pulsing faintly with power. The sight reminded me of a mana fissure in Lost Legends Online, except this wasn’t a game mechanic—it was real.

I looked at Jiang Zhen. “You still owe me two questions.”

He shrugged. “Better save them for later. We should go. We’ve caused quite the commotion.”

From a distance, I saw cultivators flying on their sword artifacts, streaking through the sky like shooting stars. Ah… right. That ridiculous light show of an ultimate skill. That definitely wasn’t subtle.

Before either of us could move, a familiar figure dropped from the sky, landing in front of us with the force of a thunderclap.

Liang Na.

The Chief Enforcer of Yellow Dragon City stood tall in her black and gold robes, radiating authority. Her sharp eyes locked onto me, and she recited something that sounded suspiciously like this world’s version of Miranda rights.

“…And for destructive use of Qi-force, you are hereby placed under arrest.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

I turned to call for the old man—only to realize that Jiang Zhen had vanished.

…That damn old goat always had to get me with his petty mischief.