Immortal Paladin

Ren Jingyi woke up in a daze. Her thoughts felt sluggish, like wading through a dream she hadn’t quite escaped. The bed beneath her was soft—too soft. The sheets, embroidered with silver lotuses, were too luxurious. The air smelled of incense, calming yet unfamiliar.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she saw a ceiling of polished wood, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial beasts. This wasn’t where she had last been. This wasn’t the battlefield.

Her fingers twitched, then curled. She touched her arms, then her face, small, oval-shaped, and delicate. There was something profoundly different. She sat up, feeling her legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Legs. Humanoid limbs.

She stared at her hands in wonder. Fingers, palms, nails... everything was there. The realization struck her fully now. She had taken a humanoid form.

A mirror stood at the far end of the room. Her bare feet padded against the floor as she rushed toward it. The girl reflected back at her was small, perhaps no more than nine or ten years of age. Messy dark hair framed her round face, and a robe far too ornate for her taste, hung over her small frame.

Her height reminded her of Hei Mao.

A pang of pain surged through her chest.

She turned abruptly, her hands searching for something familiar. On the bedside table lay a bundle of cloth—Gu Jie’s robes. The ones she had hastily thrown over herself after everything had gone wrong. The ones she had clung to in her grief.

She picked them up, pressed them to her nose, and inhaled. But the scent was faint, fading. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough.

Her grip tightened, the ache in her heart deepening, but she forced herself to calm down. With a shaky breath, she stashed them in her Storage Ring, securing the last remnants of her sister-figure.

It took effort, but she steadied herself.

She was alive. That meant Master was alive.

The thought struck her with urgency.

Her eyes widened. Had it all been a dream? Had she imagined their reunion?

Her bare feet hit the floor as she dashed for the door.

As she threw it open, she nearly collided with someone entering.

A woman stood there, dressed in flowing robes of pale lavender, her demeanor calm and composed. Ren Jingyi vaguely remembered Tao Long introducing her before—Yue Ruo, an important person.

Yue Ruo offered a gentle smile as she observed Ren Jingyi. “I am glad to see that my younger daughter’s robes fit you well,” she remarked, her voice warm yet refined.

But Ren Jingyi barely spared her a glance. Her mind was elsewhere.

She ran past her without hesitation.

”Master!”

She had to find him. Had to see him again. Had to make sure it was real.

The night sky stretched vast and empty above, barely any stars piercing through the darkness. Ren Jingyi wandered through the quiet halls, her mind still clouded with remnants of her exhaustion and grief. She remembered crying in her Master’s arms, the warmth of his embrace making her feel safe for the first time in what felt like forever. At some point, she had drifted into slumber, the weight of her sorrow pulling her into unconsciousness. But now she was awake, and only one thought filled her mind.

She needed to find him.

In her haste, she bumped into a tall figure, firm as a mountain. Stumbling back, she looked up and found herself staring at Tao Long, the man her Master had tasked with escorting her. His sharp features were cast in the dim glow of the lanterns lining the corridor, his long dark hair tied in a loose tail, and his expression was unamused.

“Where are you running off to at this hour?” Tao Long asked, arms crossed.

Ren Jingyi clenched her fists. “Bring me to His Eminence.”

Tao Long frowned. “…Your Master?”

She nodded furiously.

Tao Long let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “I am a cultivator at the peak of the Ninth Realm. I have fought beasts that could sunder mountains, dueled warriors who command forces beyond your understanding, and stood unfazed before ancient sect leaders that could move the world… Yet here I am, playing babysitter.”

Ren Jingyi glared.

Tao Long exhaled again, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. Come along. Let’s find your Master before you bite my head off.”

Without another word, he turned, gesturing for her to follow as they set off into the night.

Soon, they arrived at a room guarded by a lone woman, her presence quiet yet sharp, like a hidden blade waiting to be unsheathed. As Ren Jingyi and Tao Long approached, the woman straightened, eyes narrowing.

“Identify yourself,” she demanded, her voice calm yet firm.

Tao Long scoffed, tilting his head arrogantly. “How dare a mere guard question my presence? I am a guest of the prince himself. Do you have the gall to stand in my way?”

“That’s Governor to you,” the woman spat back, her eyes sharp as a blade. “While here in Yellow Dragon City, the Governor only wishes to be addressed by his government post and nothing else!”

Tao Long raised a brow, amused by her fire. “Ah, so the Governor demands proper decorum even from his esteemed guests? How rigid.”

Liang Na did not waver. “Governor Ren Jin upholds the dignity of this city. If Lord Tao Long cannot abide by simple customs, then perhaps he does not deserve to be here at all.”

Ren Jingyi frowned. She could feel the pressure exuding from Tao Long—subtle but overwhelming, like a coiled dragon ready to strike. The air grew heavy, but before she could voice her irritation, the woman before them matched his aura. It was not as overwhelming, but precise and suffocating, like a fine dagger pressed against one’s throat.

“This humble guard is Liang Na,” the woman said, her tone respectful yet unwavering. “I believe this is our first meeting, Lord Tao Long.”

Tao Long raised a brow, intrigued rather than offended. “Impressive. To think someone of your age has reached the Eighth Realm… and even refined your stealth arts to such a degree that you are nearly indistinguishable from the lesser. Perhaps, had I not been paying attention, I would have mistaken you for a mere shadow lurking in the night.”

The two locked gazes, the tension between them sharp enough to cut through steel.

Ren Jingyi, growing increasingly impatient with the posturing, tugged at Tao Long’s sleeve. He ignored her.

They continued to exchange subtle barbs, their words polite but laced with challenge.

“Flattery from a man who prides himself on his own talent? Funny you say that,”  Liang Na’s expression did not change, but a sharp glint flickered in her eyes. “I should consider myself honored then.”

Tao Long chuckled. “Not flattery, merely an observation. Of course, it is quite the achievement for a mere guard. One must wonder if such skill would not be better put to use elsewhere. Or perhaps you are simply comfortable standing at doors and barking at guests?”

Liang Na folded her arms, her presence unwavering. “A dog may bark, but a true guardian does not need to raise her voice—only her blade. I do not question my place, unlike some who wander with borrowed status.”

Tao Long’s grin widened. “Borrowed? Ah, I see. You assume my presence here is unwarranted. Perhaps you should ask your Governor why he sent for me, or why am I even here at all. Or are you too busy growling at shadows to listen?”

Liang Na’s lips twitched, but she remained composed. “I merely guard that which is worth guarding. Whether you are among those things remains to be seen.”

Tao Long gave a mocking bow. “Then I shall strive to prove my worth to the ever-watchful guardian of Yellow Dragon City. A most noble profession, truly.”

At this point, Ren Jingyi had had enough. She tugged at Tao Long’s sleeve, frowning. “Enough with the posturing. Can we just go inside already?”

Tao Long ignored her, continuing to smirk at Liang Na.

Ren Jingyi scowled and kicked the back of his knee.

Thunk.

Tao Long did not even budge. In fact, Ren Jingyi might have broken her toe. She quickly healed it with divine energy coursing her meridians, while cursing Tao Long under her breath as he resumed his conversation.

”Governor Ren Jin truly fosters an interesting city,” Tao Long mused. ”His hospitality extends even to his guards, who seem to believe they hold power equal to their lord.”

Liang Na scoffed. ”The Governor has faith in his people, as he should. It is why this city stands strong while others crumble.”

Ren Jingyi clenched her fists, thoroughly exasperated. Adults were the worst.

Liang Na turned away from Tao Long, her sharp demeanor softening as she looked at Ren Jingyi. “Little Goldfish, it has been some time since we last met.”

Ren Jingyi blinked. Little Goldfish? She felt a pang in her heart, the nickname tugging at some distant warmth in her memories. Despite her earlier irritation, she found herself softening toward the woman. Swallowing her pride, she spoke with newfound politeness. “May I see my Master?”

Liang Na nodded and turned toward the door, knocking in a distinct rhythm. After a brief pause, she announced, “Ren Jingyi seeks an audience.”

A few moments later, the door creaked open just enough for Liang Na to usher Ren Jingyi inside.

Tao Long stepped forward to follow, but Liang Na raised a hand, her fingers subtly curling in a silent command. “Not you,” her meaning was clear without words.

Tao Long frowned. “Oh? And why not?”

Liang Na merely smiled, unyielding. “Because I said so.”

Ren Jingyi didn’t wait to hear whatever smart remark Tao Long had prepared. Her focus was ahead.

She stepped into the dimly lit chamber and immediately noticed the tension in the air.

Her Master sat casually, yet there was an unmistakable seriousness in his expression. Across from him, Governor Ren Jin, who had seemed so composed before, was biting his thumbnail, clearly deep in thought. Meanwhile, Jiang Zhen, the man who had once introduced himself as a kind uncle and a friend of her supposed-to-be mother, was scowling.

The topic of their argument was clear.

“…The demons are still a looming threat. Even if we cut off the immediate dangers, there’s no telling what remnants still fester in the shadows,” Jiang Zhen said grimly.

Ren Jingyi felt revulsion twist in her gut at the mere mention of demons, but she quickly composed herself. She wasn’t here to dwell on old wounds.

The conversation abruptly halted as all three men turned their gazes toward her.

Feeling the weight of their attention, she hesitated only for a moment before speaking.

“Did I come at a bad time?”

Master Da Wei’s gaze softened as he shook his head. “No.” His voice was gentle.

Jiang Zhen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s fine. We should adjourn for now anyway.”

Ren Jin nodded in agreement, though he looked like he still had more to say. Even so, the discussion was over for now.

Before Ren Jingyi could process any of it, her Master was already by her side. His hand found hers, warm and steady, and without another word, he led her toward the door.

She glanced back as they stepped out. Liang Na and Tao Long were nowhere to be seen. That struck her as odd, but her curiosity quickly shifted to something more pressing.

Her Master’s expression.

The night air was cool against her face as they walked in silence. The weight of unspoken thoughts lingered between them.

After a moment, Ren Jingyi hesitated, then softly uttered, “Master…”

Da Wei turned to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You used to call me ‘His Eminence.’ Didn’t you? What changed?”

Ren Jingyi’s cheeks burned. “H-How did you know?”

His smile deepened. “Hei Mao would tell me stories of your conversations.”

Ren Jingyi’s steps faltered. “T-traitor… He’s a traitor…”

Da Wei laughed.

Back then, when she was still just a fish, only Hei Mao could truly talk to her. Her Master had a method to communicate as well, but she had been too shy to respond. Learning the Common tongue had been difficult, and by the time she could finally use Qi Speech, so much had already changed.

With a weak mutter, she finally confessed, “After everything that happened… I thought I was being left behind. So, like the others… I wanted to call you Master too.”

Da Wei’s steps slowed. He didn’t say anything right away, but the hand holding hers gave a reassuring squeeze.

The courtyard was quiet, save for the distant rustling of trees. The cool night breeze carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, but Ren Jingyi hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Her Master stood beside her, arms crossed, gazing up at the barely visible stars. Then, as if speaking more to the night than to her, he said, “I’ll try to bring them back.”

Ren Jingyi’s breath hitched. “Really?” she asked, eyes wide with hope.

Da Wei blinked, then shook his head. “No,” he corrected himself. “Rather than try, I’ll definitely do it.” He turned to her, his usual carefree smile forming. “I’ll find a way.”

For some reason, hearing him say that filled her with confidence.

“Big Sister Gu Jie?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Da Wei affirmed. “I’ll definitely bring her back.”

“…Even the annoying Ren Xun?”

He laughed. “Even him.”

“What about Big Bro Lu Gao?”

“Still plenty alive,” Da Wei remarked. “So don’t go killing him off just yet.”

Ren Jingyi let out a small chuckle, the first one in what felt like forever.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, she asked the one question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. “What about… Traitor Hei Mao?”

Da Wei’s smile faded. His expression turned serious, the lightheartedness vanishing like mist in the morning sun. He met her gaze and said firmly, “Yes. Even Hei Mao.”

Ren Jingyi bit her lip. She wanted to believe him.

Slowly, she fiddled with her Storage Ring, fingers grazing the cool surface.

Da Wei shifted beside her. “Can you bring them out?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Gu Jie and Ren Xun.”

Ren Jingyi swallowed hard. Then, with a solemn nod, she reached into her Storage Ring and, with a thought, brought out their yet-to-rot cadavers.

The sight of them made her chest ache.

As she looked down at their lifeless forms, she wished—deep in her heart—that their small, dysfunctional family would be whole again.