Immortal Paladin

By first light, the city stirred. The festival’s remnants—discarded lanterns, empty bottles, and torn banners—littered the streets. Yet, despite the mess, there was a sense of peace. People moved with purpose, sweeping away debris, washing the roads, and setting things right as if nothing had happened.

I stood atop the city wall, looking down at the scene. Jiang Zhen stood to my right, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Ren Jin was on my left, still as ever, the prince watching the city he ruled with quiet calculation.

Jiang Zhen exhaled. ”Be careful on your travels,” he said. No jokes, no riddles, no jabs. Just that.

I turned to Ren Jin. ”And you?”

Ren Jin gave me a sidelong glance. ”Ren Xun will guide you to the Empire. Do as you like with him.”

That was... harsh. ”Isn’t he your son?” I asked, raising a brow.

”He is,” Ren Jin admitted, ”but he is also your responsibility now. His fate is in your hands.”

I didn’t know whether to be honored or concerned. Probably both.

That was too callous of him.

I turned back to Jiang Zhen, finding myself hesitating. ”Thanks,” I said finally. ”For everything. For your hospitality. And for your friendship.”

Jiang Zhen scoffed. ”You’re probably the only person who’d act so sentimental.”

But then, he did something unexpected—he called me by my name. ”David,” he said, without stuttering, without hesitation. “Be careful out there, turbulent times are coming. If anything, I’d be bummed if you suddenly croak out one day.”

It was the first time he’d said my name properly. That practically made him the first person who addressed me by my name in this strange world. I blinked. Then, I smiled. ”You got it right.”

Jiang Zhen rolled his eyes. ”Of course I did.”

I had no idea what it was like to be unable to say certain syllables or to have an accent that couldn’t be helped. Assigned vernaculars aside, I appreciated the effort.

The boat hovered just a short distance away, waiting. Lu Gao stood near the edge, looking contemplative. Ren Xun was at the controls, calm and composed. Gu Jie, holding a large bowl filled with water, carefully cradled Ren Jingyi—the goldfish—inside it.

The vessel itself was sleek, more like a speedboat than the grand flying ships I had imagined. It had a single deck, wide enough to comfortably fit a dozen people, but it lacked a roof. I glanced at Ren Jin. ”No cover?”

He folded his hands behind his back. ”The Floating Dragon has formations that repel rain,” he said. ”And it has withstood an attack from a Fifth Realm cultivator before.”

That caught my interest. ”A Fifth Realm cultivator?” I asked. ”And it survived?”

Okay, to be fair, I had no idea how strong a Fifth Realm attack was at full force.

Ren Jin nodded. ”Barely. It’s not indestructible, but it will serve you well.”

I studied the boat again, its hull lined with faint golden inscriptions, the edges shimmering faintly with protective energy. A well-crafted artifact, no doubt.

I turned back to the two men standing beside me. ”Governor Ren Jin,” I said, addressing him formally.

Then, I looked at Jiang Zhen and grinned. ”Jiang Zhen.”

No ‘Changcheng’ this time.

He raised a brow. ”Oh? Dropping the name-calling now, are we?”

I shrugged. ”You’re an interesting person. Your sensibilities match mine more than I expected.” I exhaled. ”I thought I’d struggle interacting with cultivators, but you made it easier. Or maybe this region is nice and chill like that.”

Jiang Zhen smirked, folding his arms. ”That so?”

”Yeah,” I said simply. ”I was fortunate to meet someone like you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a scoff, he waved me off. ”Go on, then. Before you say something even sappier.”

I chuckled, then leaped onto the boat.

Ren Xun gave me a brief nod before turning his focus back to the controls. Lu Gao remained quiet, but I could see his mind was elsewhere, thoughts swirling behind his eyes. Gu Jie carefully adjusted Ren Jingyi’s bowl, making sure the goldfish was settled.

I took one last look at Jiang Zhen and Ren Jin.

With a final wave, the boat lurched forward—and then, in a blinding streak of rainbows, we were gone. This was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

Ren Xun stood at the helm, his hands steady on the controls. He wore dark, fitted robes, their embroidery shimmering with faint traces of spiritual energy. His long hair was tied back neatly, framing his sharp features. His posture was impeccable—straight-backed, confident—but his expression remained neutral, almost distant.

The controls in front of him looked absurdly complicated, a strange fusion of ancient design and futuristic complexity. There was an antique-looking wheel, polished and ornate, its edges marked with intricate carvings that pulsed faintly with Qi. A radar-like disc hovered beside it, glowing softly, displaying shifting lines and dots that I couldn’t make sense of. And then there were the buttons—too many of them, scattered across the panel with symbols that looked like a mix between ancient calligraphy and arcane circuitry.

I had no idea how any of it worked.

Ren Xun moved his hands over the controls with practiced ease. He turned the wheel slightly, tapping his fingers across the buttons in a sequence that seemed second nature to him. The boat hummed, and the formations embedded within its hull glowing briefly before the world around us blurred.

Ever imagined being inside a warping sequence like in those sci-fi movies? This must have been what it felt like, when in a warp.

For a moment, all I could see were streaks of rainbow light rushing past us, stretching infinitely in all directions. The sensation was both exhilarating and disorienting, like being tossed through a tunnel of color without a clear destination.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the light shattered.

The streaks vanished, dissolving into the horizon, and the scenery changed entirely.

Yellow Dragon City was gone.

Instead, we were in the middle of an endless desert-like expanse. Rolling dunes stretched far into the horizon, the ground cracked and dry. The air shimmered from the heat, the sky above a pale, washed-out blue with no clouds in sight. The sun sat directly overhead, its intensity pressing down on us like an oppressive weight.

Ren Xun turned to me, his voice steady and composed.

“Welcome to the Evernight Continent, senior.”

I sat cross-legged on the deck, a book in one hand and my other flipping through the pages at an inhuman speed. Speed reading the mundane books was easy when you had enhanced memory retention. All hail maxed level stats.

Most of these books were just geography and history, basic knowledge that any educated citizen of the Empire would know. Evernight Continent was just one of eight massive continents under the rule of the Grand Ascension Empire. The Empire itself spanned multiple realms, and its influence stretched across the heavens. Evernight was located in the westernmost part of the Empire’s territory, bordering the untamed lands where demonic beasts roamed freely.

I closed the book with a soft thud and turned to Ren Xun, who was still focused on steering the Floating Dragon. The controls lit up faintly under his hands, a mix of ancient mysticism and something eerily similar to high-tech machinery.

“How long will it take us to reach the imperial capital?” I asked.

Ren Xun didn’t hesitate. “Forty days, if we charge forth with all zeal.”

I liked the spunk on this guy. But I wasn’t keen on rushing headfirst into whatever awaited me at the capital.

“And what’s the safest way to do it?” I asked. “I don’t mind spending a reasonable amount of time getting there, but I’d rather not stroll into unnecessary danger just because we were in a hurry.”

Ren Xun considered my question before answering. “The Emperor has given senior a hundred days to arrive, correct?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Sounds suspicious as hell when we could make it in forty.”

“Indeed.” Ren Xun kept his eyes on the controls. “The warping formations on this boat require time to recharge. Roughly a week after each use. If we push forward aggressively, we can still arrive in forty days, even accounting for the usual demonic beast attacks. But if we want to minimize risk…”

He glanced at me as if gauging my reaction.

“We should abuse the warps.”

“Abuse them how?”

“In every warp, we find a hiding spot. A place where we can lay low while the formations recharge. That way, we avoid prolonged exposure in dangerous areas.”

So, in short, it was a game of patience versus risk. We could rush and fight our way through, or we could move carefully and take advantage of the warp cooldowns.

I exhaled. “I see. Guess we’ll have to decide along the way.”

Ren Xun gave a slight nod. “As you wish, senior.”

There wasn’t a hiding spot in this desert even if I wanted one. The sand stretched endlessly in every direction, shimmering under the relentless sun. The occasional jagged rock formation provided no real cover, and the air wavered with heat mirages.

I turned away from the barren landscape and glanced at my companions. “How are you two holding up?”

Gu Jie stood with a composed posture, her black robes undisturbed by the occasional gust of wind. She was holding Ren Jingyi, my goldfish, in a large bowl of water. The little fish swam in circles, not particularly impressed with the desert heat. I walked over and plucked some lettuce from my Item Box, feeding it to her.

Gu Jie spoke up. “Master, I am doing just fine. I have raised my cultivation to another star.”

That was fast. I paused for a second before nodding. “Good for you.”

Lu Gao, who had been standing a few paces away, looked hesitant before speaking. “If you have orders for me, please tell me so… and while late, I wish to know—how does senior wish to be addressed?”

I blinked at him. “Whatever suits you. Preferably, my name.”

Lu Gao visibly tensed at that answer. He shifted awkwardly, glancing at Gu Jie as if to confirm something before looking back at me. It was the difference in culture at work. He wasn’t used to addressing someone who had power over him by name.

After a moment’s hesitation, he finally said, “I shall address you as Master… then…”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

I let go of Ren Jingyi, watching as the goldfish swam a few slow laps around her bowl before settling near the surface. She seemed content. Meanwhile, Gu Jie and Lu Gao returned to their own corners of the boat. Gu Jie continued her quiet writing, while Lu Gao sat cross-legged, his breathing even. Probably meditating. Trying to find his center in all of this.

I leaned back and flipped through another book. There was still a ridiculous amount of reading left to do, but I had to put a dent in it somehow. Gu Jie had gathered these for me, after all.

Speaking of Gu Jie—

”Hey, Gu Jie, what’s Old Song like?”

Gu Jie looked up from the small notebook she had been scribbling in. Ren Jingyi floated lazily beside her, swishing her tail. The girl tapped her brush against the edge of the inkstone, thinking.

”He wanted me to join the Guild as a staff member,” she finally said.

I raised a brow. ”Judging by how I found you, you didn’t accept. Why?”

She exhaled slowly. ”He is underestimating my constitution. My bloodline ability is malicious just by existing. What happens to the civilians he puts with me if they brush with the bad luck I’ve accumulated?”

That was… fair.

She hesitated, then added, ”In fact, I was doubtful of even coming here, Master. I attract trouble after all. Regardless of how good my cultivation technique is, I am damaged goods. If you were to decide to abandon me, I will not hold it against you.”

I laughed.

Gu Jie blinked, looking genuinely confused.

I raised a hand in apology. ”Sorry, sorry. It’s just—” I shook my head. ”You’re so serious you might as well be raising flags.”

She didn’t get the reference, but the frown she sent me made it clear she wasn’t thrilled with my reaction.

I sighed and leaned back. ”Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.”

Would we?

Maybe my optimism was getting the better of me.