Immortal Paladin

The Boss stood at the center of the tent, effortlessly managing the food distribution. Her blue mask covered the upper half of her face, but her sharp, focused eyes peeked through. Her long black hair was tied in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She wasn’t overly tall or imposing, yet there was something about the way she carried herself—calm, controlled, authoritative.

She moved with efficiency, handing out bowls of porridge with a steady rhythm. Each person stepped forward, received their portion, and moved along without hesitation. No pushing, no fighting, no chaos. It was… organized.

I had seen charity drives and food distributions back on Earth. Even with volunteers trying their best, people always scrambled, cutting in line, taking more than their share. But here? It was smooth. Efficient.

Lin Lim. I think I heard the others call her that.

I ladled some porridge into a bowl, glancing at the contents. The meal was simple—rice porridge with bits of dried meat and vegetables. It wasn’t much, but in a place like this, it was everything.

Then, a familiar face entered my vision.

Yu Tai.

The kid had slinked his way to the front, bowl held up expectantly. His expression was neutral, but I could see the nervous flicker in his eyes the moment he noticed me. I must have looked like an intimidating warrior in his eyes.

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice just enough. “Where is it?”

Yu Tai flinched. “W-what?”

“Everything you stole.”

The boy stiffened, his grip on the bowl tightening. “W-why?”

I held his gaze. “Because it was wrong.”

Yu Tai’s fingers clenched around the bowl, his lips pulling into a scowl. “This place is just like any other,” he muttered. “Those at the top always ask for tribute.”

I arched a brow. “Tribute? That’s what you call stealing now?”

His glare sharpened. “Call it whatever you want. It’s the same thing. The strong take from the weak. The weak take from the weaker. That’s just how it is.”

That… was a depressing outlook. But judging by his ragged clothes and defiant posture, it wasn’t hard to guess where it came from. Yu Tai wasn’t just some pickpocket. He was a kid who had spent enough time on the streets to know exactly how unfair life could be.

The murmur of voices around us quieted. I glanced around and realized that people were watching. Kids, teenagers, even a few adults. Some were curious. Some wary. Others seemed like they had heard this conversation before.

Then a calm voice cut through the tension.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

Boss Lin Lim approached, her blue mask giving her an unreadable expression. She moved with an air of quiet authority, her eyes scanning between Yu Tai and me.

I sighed and gestured at the kid. “Your little troublemaker here has a habit of helping himself to other people’s things.”

Yu Tai tensed but didn’t deny it. His jaw was set, his grip on the bowl tightening.

Lin Lim exhaled softly. “Is that true, Yu Tai?”

The boy hesitated, glancing around at the watching faces. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just clicked his tongue and looked away.

The silence stretched. Everyone’s eyes were on us.

Murmurs spread through the tent.

“He got caught, huh?”

“Well, he’s always been reckless.”

“Figures. But what’s she gonna do about it?”

“Better not be too harsh. He’s still one of us.”

Yu Tai shifted uncomfortably, looking around at the gathered onlookers. Lin Lim must have noticed too, because she spoke before the whispers could turn into something worse.

“I know many of you come from different places,” she said, her voice carrying authority without needing to be loud. “Different cities, different streets, different struggles. But here, under this tent, we live the same lives.”

The murmurs died down.

Lin Lim turned her gaze back to Yu Tai. “What did you steal?”

Yu Tai glanced at me, then at the silent crowd, and finally exhaled in defeat. He reached into his ragged clothes and pulled out a small pouch, dropping it into Lin Lim’s waiting hand.

She opened it, peered inside, and after a moment… returned it.

I had no idea why.

Lin Lim’s voice was firm. “While you are under my tent, no one will be allowed to steal, hurt, or commit crimes. We survive together, not at each other’s expense. That is the rule.”

Yu Tai clenched his fists but said nothing.

Just then, the tent’s entrance was pulled aside, and a young man stepped in. He was dressed in noble attire, clean and proper—completely out of place among the rugged crowd. His gaze swept the room before landing on Lin Lim.

“Lin Lim,” he called out.

She nodded, excusing herself without another word.

I let out a slow breath before returning to my task of filling bowls, striking up casual conversations to get a better read on these people. The more I listened, the clearer the picture became.

They weren’t from Yellow Dragon City. Most of them had come from poorer, less well-off cities. Apparently, word of this festival had been spreading for three decades now, and each time it repeated, more and more of them made the journey.

“Why go through all that trouble?” I asked.

A grizzled man chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t know?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“The seventh day of the festival,” he said. “The Grand Feast. It’s tradition. Everyone gets a chance to eat like nobles, no questions asked.”

That caught me off guard.

All this effort… just for a free meal?

I frowned, recalling the festival itinerary. A grand feast. There was something like that listed.

I just hadn’t expected it to mean this much.

I’d been looking down on them.

I hadn’t meant to, not consciously. But deep down, I had carried the assumption that because I came from a world like the 21st century, I was somehow better. That my knowledge, my experiences, my way of life—were all superior.

But these people weren’t primitive. They weren’t ignorant.

They were surviving.

I let out a slow breath, the weight of my thoughts settling in. I had spent enough time here. With a mental command, I canceled Divine Possession and let my consciousness snap back to my main body.

I should probably put in a good word for them to Ren Jin. Maybe he could do something—

And then I saw them.

Chibi Jia Yun and Fan Shi, sprawled out on the ground, looking as if they had been beaten senseless. Like two puppies who had just lost a fight to a much larger dog.

What the hell happened?

I blinked. My hands were gripping something. A… tree branch?

A very familiar tree branch.

A picture formed in my head—David_69, my self-proclaimed holy spirit, swinging the branch like a righteous instrument of divine judgment.

I opened Voice Chat.

“What were you doing with them?”

David_69’s voice echoed in my mind, ever so pious. “Showing them a good time.”

I rubbed my temples. “…How did you come to the conclusion that this was a good time?”

“I asked them what they would like to do to have fun,” David_69 explained. “Both answered that they wanted to receive pointers. I obliged them, My Lord.”

I stared at the fallen forms of Jia Yun and Fan Shi.

Okay. Alright. That… made sense. Sort of.

Note to self: My game character, which had somehow become a Holy Spirit, was basically a baby. Do not give him too big of a responsibility.

Back in Lost Legends Online, holy spirits were a peculiar type of life form. They existed in an astral state, independent of both magic and flesh. They weren’t bound by the rules of mortality, nor did they function like conventional ghosts. Instead, they were of purely holy nature, embodying a concept rather than a physical being.

In the game, they were considered saints.

I wasn’t sure if David_69 lived up to that reputation.

Jia Yun and Fan Shi groaned as they slowly stood up, supporting each other in a way that almost looked natural—like an instinct.

Unexpected camaraderie.

It wasn’t quite friendship. They weren’t even acquaintances, really. But they had something close.

Rivals. Maybe?

Jia Yun steadied herself, her small chibi form swaying slightly. “This Jia Yun understood the vast difference of…” She trailed off, catching herself just before she slipped into first-person speech.

Fan Shi exhaled, brushing off her tiny sleeves. “If possible, we wish to try once again to spar with you, Senior.”

I blinked.

Ah.

So that was how it was.

They had stopped holding grudges.

Now, they were united—against a common enemy.

Me.

Excellent work, David_69.

Jia Yun and Fan Shi steadied themselves, their expressions set with newfound determination. The way they held each other up, despite their exhaustion, made me think—maybe their rivalry wasn’t so bad. At least now they weren’t avoiding each other.

I smiled. An amusing idea formed in my head.

I opened Voice Chat, which at this point had practically become analogous to Qi Speech—the way cultivators conversed without speaking aloud.

First, I addressed Fan Shi.

“I have a test for you. The goal is to make Jia Yun laugh,” I said, my tone playful. “But you must not laugh yourself. The first one who laughs loses and won’t get to spar with me.”

Then, I turned to Jia Yun, giving her the same instructions, albeit with slightly different phrasing.

Jia Yun and Fan Shi exchanged a competitive look.

A silent agreement passed between them.

I could almost hear the sparks crackling in the air as they prepared for battle—not with fists or swords, but with sheer willpower.

Su-ba-ra-shi.

“Let’s go enjoy the festival before our chibi forms run out,” I remarked casually as if I hadn’t just orchestrated a ridiculous challenge between them.

That day, I rediscovered a part of myself.

The little troll inside me.

…Not that I had ever truly lost it.

Hahaha.