Immortal Paladin

Fan Shi’s breathing was ragged.

Her body ached, her limbs burned, and though the difference between her and Jia Yun was only three stars, it felt like she was trying to punch through a steel wall.

Ice walls sprang up whenever her chains lashed forward, blocking her attacks with infuriating ease. Then, as if that weren’t enough, those same walls would twist and shatter, reshaping into jagged ice spires that launched straight at her. She barely dodged, her movements growing sluggish from exhaustion.

The worst part was the illusions.

Born from the swirling mist of Jia Yun’s icy techniques, the false images multiplied, darting around the arena in a dizzying blur. Fan Shi knew they weren’t real, but every attempt to cut them down only made more appear. It was like battling a hydra—every severed head only spawned more in its place.

Her senses strained, her consciousness pulsing as she searched for the real Jia Yun amidst the fakes. There, she thought, feeling the flicker of genuine killing intent in one of the figures. But before she could act, a fresh wave of ice daggers streaked toward her, forcing her to evade once again.

She was struggling.

Then, she heard a voice.

Not Jia Yun’s. Not her own.

A familiar, yet utterly strange voice.

”The Sect has made a bet with the other Sects and City Governor Ren Jin,” Da Wei’s voice echoed in her mind. ”If you win this match, you get to pick one treasure from the spoils.”

Fan Shi staggered mid-step.

She had always been conscious of Da Wei—not just because of his unpredictability, but because her Mind’s Eye warned her of him. Every time she observed him, the instinctive fear clawed at her, treating him as an insurmountable threat.

But now, that fear was momentarily pushed aside.

”What are the treasures involved?” she asked, cautious but intrigued.

”Ask if you aren’t familiar with the terms: Qi Fire Seed Nether Ghost Flames, Molten Black Steel, and True Royal Divine,” Da Wei answered.

Fan Shi narrowed her eyes.

She had read enough books to pride herself on her knowledge, yet she had never heard of these treasures before. Still, she could make educated guesses.

A Qi Fire Seed—likely a specialized fire core, perhaps used in refining pills for alchemy or crafting artifacts. Molten Black Steel—almost certainly a rare forging material, excellent for crafting high-grade weapons.

But True Royal Divine? That was a mystery.

”What does the True Royal Divine do?”

”If eaten raw, it temporarily raises your cultivation by an entire realm. If refined properly, it can raise cultivation permanently. The latter effect only works for those below the Sixth Realm.”

Fan Shi’s heart pounded.

A treasure that could boost cultivation permanently?

If what Da Wei said was true, then even someone in the Fifth Realm could break through to the Sixth using it.

She had no illusions about winning the treasure herself, but if her sect claimed it, they should at least reward her with something of equal value. With that, she could advance to the Third Realm much faster than anticipated.

”I want it,” she murmured.

The words left her lips before she even realized it.

A sudden cold gust reminded her that she was still in a battle. Jia Yun hadn’t stopped attacking just because she was considering her options. Fan Shi exhaled sharply. She had to win this fight.

Fan Shi’s fingers curled, tightening around the hidden chains within her sleeves. She exhaled slowly, steadying the storm in her mind.

Her Sect had chosen to bet on her.

The thought stirred something deep inside—pride, maybe. But more than that, an unbearable weight settled on her shoulders.

The burden was too much.

She remembered the day she found the tome.

A dusty, unassuming book buried among the forgotten relics of an old ruin. She had been a child then—too curious, too reckless. She remembered opening its pages, watching in stunned silence as the ink shimmered, the paper dissolving into little motes of light.

She remembered the sensation that followed—the pull, the overwhelming knowledge forcing itself into her mind.

She remembered dying.

Or at least, something had died that day.

She wasn’t the same after.

She had magic. Magic she should not have.

She hid. She was afraid. She spent years masking her abilities, pretending to be normal, fearing what others would say.

But secrets had a way of slipping through the cracks.

One day, someone saw.

One day, they pointed.

One day, they screamed.

Demon.

She ran.

Through villages, through forests, through the never-ending whispers of fear and hatred. Until, at last, she met him.

The Sect Master of the Isolation Path Sect.

He looked at her—not with fear, not with anger, but understanding.

And then, he offered.

A place in the sect. A place to belong. A path to walk.

Now, she stood in this arena, representing that same sect.

She would not lose.

“I will not lose,” Fan Shi declared, her voice calm yet resolute.

Jia Yun scoffed, her relaxed posture finally shifting. She must have heard from her Elder. The gambling happening above was undoubtedly pressuring her to finish this match quickly.

Fan Shi’s gaze flickered toward the VIP section.

She caught Da Wei’s eyes.

The stranger looked at her as if challenging her.

In that instant, ice spikes erupted beneath her.

She leaped.

“I will show you what I got,” she said, the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. “So don’t blink.”

The air was sharp with frost, the ground littered with jagged ice.

But Fan Shi danced.

Mind’s Eye pulsed within her mind, predicting every shift, every attack before it came.

Force Step sent her gliding across the battlefield, her movements erratic, unpredictable.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not against Jia Yun.

So she layered it.

Drifting Willow.

The signature movement art of her sect.

She twisted and turned, as weightless as a drifting leaf, her form weaving through the deadly spikes with unnatural grace. 

Combined with Force Step, she looked like she belonged in the air…

Behind her, her chains slithered like serpents, gaining momentum with each fluid step.

And then, she struck.

Fan Shi’s breath came slow and steady. Her body ached from exertion, but her mind was clear.

She had long given up trying to understand the knowledge that had been burned into her soul that day.

The mysterious tome from her youth… she barely grasped its meaning. Its words had been unreadable, its intent unknowable.

But the moment she had absorbed it, the understanding had been forced into her.

Psymancy Path of Mage Legacy.

That was what it was called.

She still wasn’t sure what it meant, but she knew what it did.

Spells that affected the mind.

Techniques that bent reality through sheer force of will.

It was almost a demonic path.

Her chains struck true.

Jia Yun’s fans whipped up a howling tempest of ice, the air around her crystallizing into a frigid storm.

But the chains didn’t stop.

They pierced through the ice, through the cutting winds, through the protection she had built.

Jia Yun flinched as thin red lines bloomed across her skin, accumulating with each icy wind she hoped to deflect the chains with. Her frost wall being too late to stop them, forced her to resort to such self-damaging defense.

Yet, Jia Yun endured.

But then, Jia Yun hesitated.

Jia Yun paused.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she stared at the chains embedded in her arms.

Her grip tightened on her fans, and with a burst of Qi, she tried to rip them off.

Nothing.

Ice formed around them, trying to freeze and shatter the metal.

Nothing.

Wind blades slashed at them, trying to sever their hold.

Nothing.

Jia Yun’s breath hitched. “What is happening?”

Fan Shi tilted her head, watching her struggle.

“Aren’t you curious what those Psychic Bolts I threw at you earlier do?”

Jia Yun’s head snapped up. “What?”

Fan Shi smiled.

The bolts themselves had been harmless.

But they had marked Jia Yun’s soul.

And now, with Mind Over Matter enhancing her chains, every strike tore deeper, every impact bypassed her defenses, every struggle was useless.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Fan Shi’s grip tightened.

Her Qi pulsed.

She whispered, “Don’t worry. You won’t die.”

And then she pulled.

“Soul Rend.”

Jia Yun’s scream echoed through the arena as her astral form was ripped from her body.

It was a disorienting, painful sensation—her very soul being forcibly yanked from its vessel.

But Fan Shi could only imagine.

In the stands, gasps rang out as spectators witnessed the eerie sight—Jia Yun’s body frozen, her translucent, ghostly form writhing mid-air. She clawed at the invisible force dragging her away, struggling desperately to return. 

And then the Psychic Marks embedded on her exploded all at the same time.

Jia Yun screamed.

“KYAAAAAA~AAAGH!”

The ice-cold beauty screamed.

“KYAAAAAA~AAAAAAGH!”

Like a banshee. 

“KYAAAAAA~AAAAAAAAAAGH!”

Her body was right there.

She just needed to—

Fan Shi let go.

Jia Yun’s soul snapped back into her body.

She barely had time to register the relief—

Fan Shi was already there.

In the blink of an eye, she had closed the distance, her movements a blur of Force Step and Drifting Willow.

Chains coiled around Jia Yun’s arms, locking her in place.

And then—

Fan Shi threw a haymaker.

It connected.

Fan Shi had never learned any true offensive techniques.

She was a master of movement.

Of stealth.

Of body refinement.

Her master had drilled into her that she didn’t need overtly destructive techniques. Your bizarre spells are strong enough, they had said. Build on your foundations first. When the time comes, your power will follow.

So she had listened.

She had spent years perfecting her footwork, her evasions, her disguises.

And now, when faced with an opponent like Jia Yun, she had only one thing left—

A haymaker.

A violent haymaker.

A simple, amateurish punch, thrown with pure instinct.

Jia Yun barely reacted in time, flicking her fans and vanishing in a flurry of mist and wind. She reappeared a short distance away, coughing violently as a trickle of blood ran from her lips.

She wiped her mouth.

Then, she froze.

The elegant, aloof expression she had been wearing cracked.

Her ice-cold beauty melted away, replaced by a seething, monstrous rage.

Jia Yun’s lips curled, her eyes burning with fury.

“You dare hit my beautiful face?”

Her voice trembled with unrestrained emotion.

Then—

A sharp turn of her head.

Her eyes locked onto the VIP area above.

Fan Shi followed her gaze, her stomach twisting.

Jia Yun’s expression shifted.

The rage remained, but it became something else—something predatory.

She exhaled.

And whispered:

“Understood, Elder.”

A cold wind swept across the arena.

Mist curled at her feet.

A storm gathered overhead.

And then—

“Bloodline Art: Nine-Tailed Fox Ascendance.”

Blue flames erupted around her, intertwining with icy mist and rolling clouds.

Her pupils stretched into slits.

Her once-human ears elongated, becoming vulpine and covered in soft, white fur.

Behind her, three long, fluffy fox tails unfurled.

The pressure spiked.

Fan Shi’s heart pounded in her chest.

And then—

A panicked voice rang in her ear.

“What are you waiting for?! Don’t let her transform! Attack her!”

It was him.

That weird stranger, Da Wei.

“Fuck, they’re cheating!”

Fan Shi didn’t fully understand what he meant.

But she understood the urgency in his voice.

She moved.

With a flick of her wrist, she unlinked her chains and launched them as projectiles.

The chains shot forward—

Only to be deflected.

A gentle breeze knocked them off course, making their trajectory waver unnaturally.

And then the mist parted.

Jia Yun stepped forward, her transformed form now fully revealed.

A woman with fox ears, three tails, and an aura that radiated unnatural cold.

Da Wei’s voice came again, this time tinged with deep regret.

“This is more than just being a little foxy…”

Fan Shi exhaled sharply, whispering under her breath.

“You are not helping.”

The energy pouring from Jia Yun was oppressive.

It wasn’t just a minor boost.

It wasn’t just a clever trick.

Her cultivation had leapt by an entire realm.

Will Reinforcement Realm.

First Star.

Mid-Stage.

Fan Shi’s hands tightened into fists.

“This is just unreasonable.”