Immortal Paladin

Fan Shi moved like a shadow, her sleeves fluttering as chains shot from them in a blur. The metallic links twisted and coiled, forming an unpredictable barrage that surged toward Jia Yun.

Jia Yun, in contrast, moved with a practiced nonchalance. She withdrew a pair of ornate fans from beneath her arms, flicking them open with an air of effortless grace. With a lazy wave, a burst of wind surged forth, repelling the incoming chains. The gust sent dust swirling, forcing Fan Shi to shift her stance.

This wasn’t just a match of brute force. It was speed versus control.

I leaned forward slightly. This was the kind of fight I enjoyed—technical, full of tricks, and not just a contest of who had the biggest moves.

Long Xieren’s voice broke my concentration. “How about a friendly bet? Who is up for this?”

Pan Xia barely spared him a glance before answering, “It is obvious. Jia Yun will win.”

Long Xieren chuckled, rubbing his chin. “Surely, this isn’t favoritism?”

Pan Xia sighed, fanning himself lazily. “Jia Yun is in the Second Realm, Seventh Star… and Fan Shi is what?” His gaze slid to Chang Fan.

The young Isolation Path Sect disciple cleared his throat. “Second Realm, Fourth Star… she pursues a different path in the art of consciousness—”

Pan Xia ignored him outright, continuing, “Even that Clan kid, Lu Gao, has better cultivation than her. And the Seven Grand Clans have rather short histories compared to our illustrious Sects.” He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. “What is the Isolation Path Sect thinking?”

I glanced at Chang Fan, noting the subtle tension in his jaw. He wasn’t exactly in a position to defend his Sect without stepping on some toes, especially with Lei Fen’s absence. That seemed to be the real issue here—Pan Xia wasn’t just doubting Fan Shi’s chances; he was taking the opportunity to subtly jab at Lei Fen’s decision to skip out.

Cultivator politics were exhausting.

“Well,” I said, deciding to step in, “I wouldn’t be so quick to count Fan Shi out.”

Pan Xia’s fan paused mid-motion. “Oh?”

“She’s clearly trained in unconventional combat,” I mused, watching as Fan Shi adjusted her position, shifting her footing like she was preparing something. “She wouldn’t be in the quarterfinals if she didn’t have a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Long Xieren grinned. “Are you saying you’d put your bet on the Isolation Path Sect’s disciple, Daoist Da Wei?”

I shrugged. “I’m saying underestimating her might make for a bad bet.”

Pan Xia chuckled. “How diplomatic.”

I wasn’t being diplomatic. I just liked upsets.

Fan Shi’s chains shot forward in a deadly arc, but her opponent was already gone. Or rather, she appeared to be gone.

Illusions of Jia Yun flickered into existence, surrounding Fan Shi from all angles. They moved with a ghostly elegance, their fluttering robes barely rustling as they circled their prey. It reminded me of the Doppelganger ability from the Ninja-class legacy in Lost Legends Online—annoying to fight against and even worse to predict.

Not to be outdone, Fan Shi shifted tactics. She unlinked her chains with a flick of her wrists, launching them in all directions in a wide-area attack. The flying links passed through most of the illusions, causing them to waver and vanish like mist, but for every one that disappeared, two more seemed to take its place.

Jia Yun’s strategy was clear. She was playing the long game, whittling down Fan Shi’s energy while maintaining an untouchable presence. If Fan Shi couldn’t adapt, she’d get overwhelmed.

“Tsk, tsk…” clicked Pan Xia’s tongue. “If she continues like this…” Pan Xia stopped, leaving the meaning unclear, but clearly implying something.

I glanced at Chang Fan. He looked like he was in silent agony, his polite expression hiding his inner turmoil.

Okay, conclusion reached. Pan Xia was a jerk.

Leaning toward him, I whispered, “This is the quarterfinals, right? But from what I heard, there are only four contenders left. Isn’t this already the semi-finals?”

Chang Fan shook his head slightly before replying, “Ah, the quarterfinals require each contender to duel against all the others to gauge their strength. The semi-finals will be a two-on-two match between the said four contenders.” He brightened a bit for being helpful. Good for you, man.

I’d expected something more straightforward, but this wasn’t too complicated either. More of a round-robin with a twist.

Long Xieren, who had clearly been eavesdropping, chimed in, “Are there tournaments where you come from, Daoist Da Wei?”

Tournaments?

From Earth? Nada. Unless you counted sports or esports.

From LLO? Lots. PvP tournament setups were practically a daily ritual. There were even unofficial underground tournaments where players fought for real-world money or rare in-game items.

I shrugged. “There are… Most often, it’s to win equipment, sometimes to gain fame, or—” I hesitated, shuddering slightly as an old memory surfaced. “—to prove a point.”

Long Xieren raised an eyebrow. “A point?”

I sighed. “Let’s just say I knew a fellow Daoist who took things way too seriously.”

I could still remember the guy, standing atop a burning battlefield, dramatically declaring his conquest over the mortal realm. He insisted on roleplaying as a Demon Lord and went so far as to form a cult-like following in-game.

A Mage player who just had too much anime and mod hacks, I guessed.

The last I heard of him, he got permanently banned for ‘disturbing the game’s balance.’ I hoped he was in a better place now—maybe terrorizing NPCs in some other virtual world.

Shaking off the memory, I returned my focus to the match.

Fan Shi flicked her wrist, and bolts of grayish starlight streaked toward Jia Yun. They cut through the air like silent arrows, their muted glow eerie against the bright arena.

I leaned forward slightly. That magic looked suspiciously like a spell from the Psymancer Path in Lost Legends Online.

Jia Yun reacted fast. With a flick of her fans, she summoned wind blades, sharp crescents of air that shot forward and met the incoming projectiles head-on. The resulting impact sent out gusts of displaced air… but the bolts of starlight remained unaffected.

Oh no.

I hoped I was imagining things, but Fan Shi proved me wrong by following through with a very familiar combo from LLO.

The psychic bolts struck Jia Yun directly.

Nothing happened.

Or at least, it looked that way to the uninformed.

While Jia Yun was likely confused by the harmless impact, Fan Shi used that moment to close the distance. She launched her chains again—only this time, they shimmered with a familiar grayish hue.

I felt my eye twitch.

That was Mind Over Matter.

A signature skill that converted physical weapon damage into psychic and magical damage. It was a favorite trick of hybrid spellblade builds, or in other words—Magic Knights.

And psychic damage? It had a 20% to 30% chance to stun depending on stats and mastery level. With the debuffs of the barrage of Psychic Bolt, the chance of stun would rise by 10% and the worse part was the damage would theoretically reach her foe’s mana reserves… or in this case, qi reserves.

Gosh… I was such a nerd.

It helped that I had a personal vendetta against players who built Magic Knights.

The ones who thought they were clever by min-maxing magic and melee to become unstoppable tanks or DPS. Annoying to fight. Smug about their builds. And worst of all, they always acted like they invented the concept.

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated that Fan Shi had pulled this off.

Jia Yun, however, wasn’t out of the fight yet. Just when it looked like the chains would wrap around her, she countered in a sudden turn of events.

Her eyes glowed an icy blue.

The air froze.

With a single wave of her fan, walls of frost materialized in an instant, blocking the incoming chains. The moment they struck the ice, Jia Yun transformed the walls into giant ice spires—deadly, jagged, and aiming straight for Fan Shi.

Fan Shi barely dodged, her movement technique barely flickering her out of harm’s way.

Pan Xia all too proudly commented, “See? That’s the difference in realms.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, sure, buddy. Keep flexing.

But I wasn’t entirely convinced this match was over yet.

I was shocked by the skills Fan Shi displayed.

The way she executed that combo… The way she weaved psychic and physical attacks together… It was too familiar.

Was she like me?

A transmigrator?

Did she come from the game?

A trickle of unease crept down my spine. If she was a fellow player, she would’ve at least tried confirming it directly by talking to me. We were all too used to checking for allies in unfamiliar settings. Yet, she had never approached me in that way.

I knew for a fact that she had been observing me for a while.

And I wasn’t exactly hiding my Paladin skills.

She was there when I used Divine Word: Life on Gu Jie, before I left her in Lei Fen’s care. Any experienced player from Lost Legends Online should have recognized the skill at a glance.

Yet… nothing.

No signs of recognition.

I frowned. Maybe she was an NPC?

No.

That didn’t explain anything.

I sighed, running through the possibilities. If she was a fellow player, there was only one way to know for sure.

A test.

I never tried this before, but I was dying of curiosity.

I focused my thoughts and reached out—not with Qi, not with magic, but with something else.

In Lost Legends Online, there was a game mechanic that let you send messages across distances, similar to a Voice Chat feature. It wasn’t like mental transmission techniques in this world, but it functioned similarly within the game.

I imagined the connection forming.

And then, I spoke.

”Fan Shi.”

To my complete and utter shock, she reacted.

”Huh?”

Oh. Oh crap. It worked.

I swallowed my surprise, keeping my thoughts measured. If she really was a transmigrator, then I needed her to expose herself first.

I spoke again, maintaining the illusion of normalcy.

”This is me, David.”

A pause.

I couldn’t tell if she was surprised or just unimpressed.

Lying was bad and shameful, but again… I was dying of curiosity.

I continued, keeping my tone casual.

”Elder Long Xieren suggested a bet between Sects. What do you think?”

Fan Shi’s response was immediate.

”I don’t care.”

…Wow.

Pretty brazen.

If she was a fellow player, she either didn’t trust me or didn’t care to reveal herself. And if she wasn’t a player?

Then I just confirmed that somehow, some way, game mechanics worked on her.

I turned to Pan Xia, watching him idly wave his fan as if the match below was a mere formality.

”How about we talk about that bet?” I suggested, keeping my tone casual. ”I feel like betting on an underdog.”

More than just a casual wager, I needed to see more of Fan Shi’s abilities—to confirm that what I’d witnessed wasn’t just a fluke.

Did she know more Mage-related skills?

Mage-class legacy players in Lost Legends Online were infamous for having too many skill paths. Even at a low level, they’d have at least four to a dozen skills under their belt. And if Fan Shi was anything like those players…

I wanted to know.

Pan Xia barely spared me a glance.

”It is a waste of time.”

I smirked. Typical.

Without a word, I reached into my Item Box and retrieved a Phoenix Feather—an exquisite plume that shimmered with gold and red hues, pulsing faintly with latent energy.

The moment I pulled it out, I knew I had their attention.

Phoenix Feathers weren’t just rare—they were legendary. At least, here. And I had lots of them stacked in my Item Box, courtesy of my old habit of hoarding high-value loot. I had planned to sell them before I suddenly found myself in this world.

And they were only one type of treasure in my collection.

Of course, I couldn’t afford to show more than this. If anyone caught on that I had a whole treasury in my Item Box, I’d be a walking target. I could feign ignorance about the feather’s origins, but flashing multiple treasures?

That would be suspicious as fuck.

I twirled the feather between my fingers, letting it catch the light.

”What do you think about it?”

Silence.

Ren Jin and Long Xieren stiffened, their eyes locked on the feather as if they’d seen a dragon’s egg hatch before them.

Pan Xia hid his reaction well—masking his expression beneath his fan—but his fingers trembled for just a second.

Only Chang Fan looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Pan Xia finally spoke.

”What’s the bet?”

I leaned back, smirking. ”I will bet that Fan Shi will win.”

A moment passed. Then, Pan Xia reached into his robes and pulled out a small, black seed wreathed in eerie blue flames.

”This is a Qi Fire Seed called Nether Ghost Flames—capable of refining and enchanting mysterious metals.” His voice carried a hint of pride. ”I am willing to bet this treasure in favor of Jia Yun’s victory.”

The blue flames flickered, illuminating his pale fingers.

Not bad.

Long Xieren chuckled, pulling out a dark, metallic slab that pulsed with barely contained heat.

”This is Molten Black Steel, refined from the burning blood of a Spiritual Beast,” he said smoothly. ”Since I suggested this bet, you don’t mind me joining, do you?” He smirked. ”I’ll wager this in favor of Jia Yun winning in the next fifteen minutes.”

Pan Xia frowned, clearly displeased.

”I am not willing to share the rewards,” he said coolly. ”I’ll bet that Jia Yun wins in the next ten minutes.”

He tapped his fan against his palm. ”The one closest to their bet takes all.”

Before I could respond, Ren Jin took out a delicate purple flower with a faintly sweet scent.

”This is True Royal Divine,” he announced, placing it on the table that floated in front of us. ”A spiritual flower that can temporarily raise one’s cultivation by an entire realm. If refined properly into a pill, it could permanently raise a realm—below the Sixth Stage, of course. It is also a rare and crucial ingredient for specialized pills that restore cultivations or empowering cultivators in a pinch.”

The air grew heavy with expectation.

Then Ren Jin smirked.

”I bet that this will all end in a tie.”

A tie?

I narrowed my eyes.

Did he know something I didn’t?

Ah, he had the referee in his payroll.

Ren Jin wouldn’t cheat, right?

Hopefully, he wouldn’t.

The battle between Fan Shi and Jia Yun raged on below, their movements a whirlwind of speed and precision.

It was time for some deception.

I reached out, focusing on Fan Shi from a distance. Then, using a game mechanic I never got to confirm before, I activated Voice Chat.

”Fan Shi,” I said, keeping my voice calm.

She visibly flinched mid-dodge, still unused to the Voice Chat.

Now, I had to sell the fight to her.

”The Sect has made a bet with the other Sects and City Governor Ren Jin,” I continued. ”If you win this match, you get to pick one treasure from the spoils.”

There was a pause.

Then, ever so subtly, Fan Shi smiled.

That ought to motivate her.