Immortal Paladin

We arrived at our destination short of twenty-one days. Considering the normal pace of sky travel over three continents, that should’ve been impossible. But then again, not many people had the same skillset or stubbornness as I did.

How did we manage it? Simple. I spammed the Bless Spell like a lunatic.

It just worked… well, at the expense of our Formation Specialists.

Every few hours, I cast Bless on the fleet, empowering the ships’ durability and reducing the cooldown time between spatial warps. Most cultivators treated spells like rare treasures and sacred ideas, used only at opportune or special moments. Me? I treated them like fast food coupons: slap one on, move faster, repeat. If the mana cost didn’t kill me, nothing would.

I learned my lesson from my trip from the Riverfall Continent to the Imperial Capital. There was no way I’d be engaging on detours this time. I’m all business!

Thirteen flying boats… each shaped like the wing of a golden hawk… landed with a smooth whir, sand kicking up along the edges of a greenish patch near the oasis. The Kingdom of Promised Dunes’ southern outpost stretched beside it like a jewel embedded in the desert. A full-sized castle, with carved sandstone walls and lattice balconies, loomed beside the water’s edge.

For a military outpost, the place looked more like a royal vacation home.

A small unit of soldiers stood waiting in formation, draped in azure silks over chainmail. Spears in hand, but lowered respectfully. The golden crest of a sun within a triangle shimmered on their breastplates, matching the banners fluttering above the walls.

The Phoenix Guard moved with smooth discipline, setting down the ship’s plank with a soft clunk. Then they stepped aside, ready to form a path.

Old General Bai Zheme stood beside me on the left. His war fan, taller than a man, was strapped across his back like the wing of some sleeping beast. Dust clung to his iron-gray hair and wrinkled brow, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dulled. He didn’t speak, just gave me a small nod.

To my right, Jin Yi flicked a few stray folds of his robe straight. A diplomat attached to our group by the Empire: charming, silver-tongued, and, in my honest opinion, a little too moisturized for desert travel.

And at the head of our group, glowing like a bonfire, stood Xue Xin.

Her presence was unmistakable. Qi blazed around her feet with every step she took, turning sand into molten glass in her wake. Her crimson cloth fluttered behind her like an imperial banner.

She stopped at the edge of the plank, cast a sharp look down at the soldiers below, then lifted her chin.

“Announcing the arrival of Lord Da Wei of the Riverfall Realm and Honored Friend of His Majesty, the Emperor,” she proclaimed, her voice amplified by qi. “Wielder of the Divine Power, Slayer of the Abyss, and He Who Defeated the Hell’s Gate!”

Huh? That was new to me… Lord of the Riverfall Realm? That was too much of a jump, wasn’t it?

The soldiers didn’t flinch at the titles. Either they’d been informed in advance, or they were just very, very good at standing still. Good for them. As for me? I felt conflicted, embarrassed, and awkward. Surely, Ren Jin wouldn’t be angry at me, right? Ugh… I’d have to give Nongmin an earful once I return to the Empire.

Xue Xin turned to me with a faint smirk. She seemed to like announcing me as if I were the protagonist of an opera.

I stepped forward. Heat still radiated from the ground she’d walked on, the glass under my boots crunching faintly as I moved. Jin Yi and General Bai flanked me, the wind catching our cloaks just right. I’ll admit, it felt kind of dramatic.

“Lord Da Wei,” a man said from the front of the soldier line. He had bronze skin and a beard like a sculpted wave. His armor gleamed in the sun. “On behalf of Her Radiant Majesty, Queen Liu Yana of the Promised Dunes, welcome to our outpost. I am Captain Han Lun. We’ve prepared quarters and refreshments.”

“Appreciated,” I replied with a polite nod. “We made good time.”

Han Lun tilted his head slightly. “So we’ve heard. The stars have bent strangely in the skies these past weeks. Our Seer assumed a greater force was in motion.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, casually. ”I am allergic to seers or just about anyone who can read the future. They rub me the wrong way.”

Jin Yi coughed into his sleeve to hide a laugh... or maybe a grimace

The captain smiled faintly and stepped aside. “Allow me to lead the way.”

We followed him along a stone path bordered by water channels, an elaborate irrigation system turning desert into paradise. My eyes wandered toward the castle. Palm trees swayed within the walls, and I caught sight of a few distant silhouettes moving behind lattice windows.

This was no ordinary outpost. And we hadn’t been summoned here just for tea and pleasantries.

“Stay sharp,” I murmured to Bai Zheme and Jin Yi, my voice low.

“Always,” the old general said without turning.

Jin Yi just smiled. “The desert hides many treasures… and even more daggers. However, I believe we are safe.” There was no need to be vigilant, he seemed to say.

He wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t here to collect daggers. With the same line of reasoning, I wasn’t here for an adventure. I was here for my people. For the ones waiting in the sands beyond, and the ones still lost beneath it.

“Anyways, no fighting, guys,” I reminded everyone. “We won’t be here for long.”

We stopped in front of a carved sandstone doorway flanked by twin minarets, each topped with a dome of turquoise crystal that shimmered beneath the sun. Intricate sigils traced across the doors in veins of lapis and gold, humming faintly with defensive enchantments. Whoever enchanted this place hadn’t been cheap.

Han Lun turned toward us with a confident smile and raised his voice, projecting deep authority that echoed through the corridor.

“Honored guests from the Grand Ascension Empire,” he boomed, “prepare yourselves. You are about to stand in the presence of Her Radiant Majesty, Queen Liu Yana, ruler of the Promised Dunes and Guardian of the Golden Oasis.”

Okay. That escalated quickly.

I blinked once. Then twice.

Queen Liu Yana?

We were being received by the actual monarch?

Oh man, Nongmin’s predictions came true… Of course, it did…

Still…

I’d expected some dusty old vizier or a high-ranking minister, maybe a cousin of a cousin with a fancy title. But the Queen herself? Jin Yi stiffened beside me. His normally immaculate smile faltered for half a second… just enough for me to catch it. Even Xue Xin, firestorm that she was, flicked her gaze sideways. Her mouth twitched, not quite a frown, but far from calm.

And then there was General Bai Zheme. Stone-faced, spine straight, hands folded behind his back. The man looked like someone had told him we were going to meet a shopkeeper. Unbothered didn’t even begin to describe it.

“Looks like someone pulled strings,” I muttered under my breath. ”How did she know we’ll arrive today and... land on this particular side of their border?”

“Or she’s just curious, no need to overthink,” Jin Yi said, forcing his easy tone back into place. “You have warped across continents like a divine comet. That tends to draw attention. Thankfully, our letter to request entry to their borders came first, before we did, or we would have a scandal on our hands.”

“Good thing I combed my hair,” I deadpanned.

“That’s your take on this?” Jin Yi looked halfway suffering from insanity at the moment. “Please, can you take the situation more seriously?”

With a low groan of ancient hinges, the double doors began to open.

A breeze rolled out from within, cool and scented with sweet spices and lotus smoke. The hall beyond was no less impressive than the gates: wide and airy, with light cascading down from polished glass panels high above. The floor was smooth marble dyed the color of honey, and a crimson carpet stretched from the threshold all the way to the dais ahead.

And on that dais, seated beneath a golden canopy, was Her Radiant Majesty.

Queen Liu Yana was younger than I expected. No gray hair, no hunched posture, no croaking voice. She looked maybe mid-thirties, though with cultivators that could mean anything between twenty and a thousand. Her eyes were sharp and dark as obsidian, but her smile was warm and unreadable. She wore robes of flowing sapphire with sun motifs stitched in silver, and a veil of sheer gold thread trailed behind her like sunlight made fabric.

A dozen attendants stood in silence on either side of the throne, eyes lowered, breath quiet. The air felt charged, like the moments before a storm.

We stepped inside.

Xue Xin resumed her place at the front, this time silent as the grave. Jin Yi walked with his hands behind his back, a courtly half-bow in his step. Bai Zheme’s footsteps didn’t echo, somehow… either he knew a trick or the marble respected his presence.

I followed just behind Xue Xin, letting my presence settle over the room like a shadow. I didn’t smile. I didn’t bow yet either. Not until I understood the game.

The Queen spoke first.

“So this is the one,” she said, voice like velvet over iron. “The Lord Da Wei, who stole the fire from the sky and scattered the shadow of the abyss.”

I raised a brow. “That’s me. Though the title inflation wasn’t my idea.”

Liu Yana’s smile widened, showing perfect teeth. “Then I welcome you, Lord of the Riverfall Realm. You arrive with storm and blessing alike.”

A courteous enough greeting. Not hostile. Not deferential, either. Balanced, like a blade’s edge.

I gave a slight bow. “And I thank you for the reception, Your Radiance. I admit, I wasn’t expecting a royal audience.”

Her fingers curled lightly around the armrest of her throne. “Nor was I expecting my stars to shift overnight and light a path straight from the Empire to my gates. Yet here we are.”

Fair point.

I glanced at Jin Yi. He offered the tiniest nod. Diplomatically, this was now his ball to juggle.

He stepped forward with a smooth flourish. “Her Radiance honors us. We are here in peace, on a matter of exploration and mutual benefit. Our lord seeks no war, only knowledge… and perhaps, allies.”

Queen Liu Yana tilted her head, appraising him, then me. “So it is said. But in these lands, even peace comes at a price.”

That caught my attention.

I took a step forward. “Then name it.”

Her eyes locked on mine. “Not yet. First… we dine.”

She raised a hand, and one of the attendants bowed and began whispering into a rune-inscribed shell.

Behind me, Xue Xin let out a quiet exhale. Bai Zheme didn’t move, but I could tell he approved. Jin Yi relaxed by a margin.

And me?

I started calculating how many antidotes I had left in my Item Box. Because if we were going to play desert diplomacy, I’d better be ready for sandstorms, sweet tea, and a hundred veiled half-truths. Of course, it was most unlikely they would even think of poisoning me.

“To the banquet hall, dear guests,” announced Han Lun as he led the way, theatrically motioning for the veiled pathway. “The Promised Dunes wish you fine dining.”

The banquet hall was smaller than the audience chamber, but no less luxurious. Pillars of white stone arched toward a domed ceiling painted with scenes of golden sandstorms and phoenixes rising from glass dunes. The table was long, narrow, and made of some iridescent wood. It glistened beneath plates of exotic cuisine that could’ve shamed any imperial feast.

The first dish to arrive was a bowl of crimson soup, steam curling upward like wisps of dragon breath. Floating within were translucent lotus seeds that pulsed faintly with qi. “Phoenix Broth,” an attendant said as he set it down. “Heals spiritual fatigue.”

Next came a platter of roasted dune hare, the meat lacquered with a glaze made from nectarfruit and firepepper. I took one bite and felt my blood circulate faster, like my veins had just downed a warm shot of liquid courage.

Then came sand clams soaked in moonlight vinegar, a grainy sashimi of rainbow-scaled fish wrapped in pickled cacti petals, and finally, dessert: sun-petaled cakes filled with custard that tasted like sweet wind and starlight. The last one literally shimmered when I bit into it.

They were all magical in their own way. Not just in flavor, but effect. One dish warmed the body, another soothed the soul, and a third sharpened the mind. It was a pharmacological symphony disguised as fine dining.

I chewed slowly, gracefully, resisting the urge to inhale it all like a starving beast.

Last time I’d spoken with Nongmin, before this whole expedition began, he’d drilled into me the importance of presentation, especially during high-level diplomatic meals. The lesson had started with a five-hour lecture on posture and ended with him stabbing a roasted duck with chopsticks and screaming, “Even if it tastes divine, do not eat like a boar in heat!”

Charming guy, really.

Still, the lessons paid off. I sat straight, I took small portions, I nodded politely when the Queen’s attendants described each dish. I even dabbed my mouth with the stupid little embroidered cloth provided. No idea if that was supposed to be used, but I went for it.

Midway through the meal, I set my chopsticks down and looked toward Queen Liu Yana. “Your Radiance,” I said with a respectful dip of my head, “this feast… is astonishing. I’m not exaggerating when I say every bite feels like a new realm.”

She gave a soft chuckle. “You flatter easily, Lord Da Wei.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m simply weak to good food. Mortal or spiritual, it doesn’t matter. If it’s delicious, I’ll sing its praises.”

Jin Yi coughed into his wine, likely remembering the time I spent an hour praising street noodles during a meeting with the Ministry of Agriculture… a few weeks ago.

Yeah, haggling for our logistical supply had been tough even with the Emperor’s token.

For some reason, the Ministry of Agriculture hated my guts.

Queen Liu Yana lifted her own cup, something amber and sweet-scented. “A man of appetite, then. That is rare in these halls.”

I smiled. “Appetite is half the reason I move forward. You can train your body, your mind, even your spirit… but a man without desire is just a statue. Not that I claim I am full of desire.”

Her eyes glittered at that, not offended, not amused, just thoughtful.

Another sip. Another bite.

And then… nothing.

No burning in my throat. No paralysis. No bleeding gums. No illusions or dream poison or delayed death fog.

I blinked. Swallowed.

Wait a minute.

There was no poison in this food?

I glanced down at my half-eaten sun-petal cake as if it had just betrayed me.

What was I thinking?

Of course, they wouldn’t poison the food. We were guests. Respected guests. Political tools, maybe, but not enemies. This wasn’t some back-alley sect or rebel den. Man, I was kinda hoping of being poisoned... 

I mentally slapped myself. Relax, Da Wei. Not everyone’s trying to murder you.

Bai Zheme let out a low, approving hum as he bit into a strip of seared cactus boar. Xue Xin had already finished her second helping of the hare. Jin Yi was finally beginning to look like himself again, sipping wine with an ease I envied.

So, I took another bite.

Then another.

And as the courses continued and the conversation drifted toward pleasantries and trade roads, I let myself enjoy it. Because whatever came next, whatever favor, demand, or offer the Queen intended to bring forward, I had a full stomach, a clear mind, and a faint sugar glaze on my lips.

Not a bad start to diplomacy, all things considered.

The plates had been cleared. The scent of roasted dune hare and starlight custard still lingered faintly in the air, but the mood had shifted. Gone was the gentle laughter and polite conversation. Queen Liu Yana’s posture had stiffened, not obviously, but enough that even I could sense the turn in the winds.

“So,” she began, swirling the amber liquor in her crystalline cup with the grace of someone utterly disinterested in its taste, “what, exactly, is the reason for your visitation?”

Her eyes were sharp. Not hostile, just focused, in that way predators looked at things they hadn’t quite decided to kill yet.

Jin Yi cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. The script we’d prepared back in the capital, polished to perfection through hours of debate and second-guessing, was finally up for performance.

“Her Radiant Majesty,” Jin Yi began, “our presence here is borne of both honor and circumstance. Lord Da Wei was recently declared an Honored Friend of the Grand Ascension Empire… and, by decree of His Majesty Emperor Nongmin, a sworn brother of the throne.”

I tried not to grimace at that part. It was true, technically. But emotionally? Spiritually? Sibling-ly? No. Just no.

Jin Yi continued without missing a beat. “This recognition is not without merit. Lord Da Wei has repeatedly risked life and limb to safeguard the Empire, most notably during the Hell’s Gate crisis on Deepmoor Continent, where he personally repelled an entire legion of hellspawn invaders.”

Queen Liu Yana raised an eyebrow at that. I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or skeptical.

“And as a reward,” Jin Yi said, puffing himself up slightly, “His Majesty granted Lord Da Wei the freedom to travel anywhere within the Empire’s friendly territories… for rest, recuperation, and enjoyment with his… ah… concubines.”

I blinked.

Wait.

What?

Concubines?

Jin Yi glanced at me, only briefly, but the damage was done. The table had gone still. Bai Zheme’s wine cup froze halfway to his lips. Xue Xin tilted her head, suppressing either a laugh or a cough, I wasn’t sure which.

“From his retinue,” Jin Yi added quickly, though the emphasis made things worse. “Namely… the Phoenix Guard.”

I gave him a side-eye like I was going to throw him out the window.

I could feel the Queen’s gaze stabbing into me now, colder than the moonlight vinegar we had with the sand clams. Her expression had twisted slightly, from neutrality into something approaching distaste.

And I? I sat there, smiling like an idiot and trying to pretend I wasn’t internally screaming.

My mind drifted back to the conversation I’d had with Nongmin before setting out.

I’d joked—joked!—about being declared his stepdad just to troll him. I wanted to see him squirm, make that stony imperial expression crack a little. Instead, he shrugged, ignored the “stepdad” suggestion entirely, and decided to pull the “Honored Friend” and “Sworn Brother” card like he was flipping through a political playbook.

I didn’t even think of him as a brother. More like… sworn father? Yeah. That felt more accurate. Stern. Infuriating. Questionably wise. The kind of guy who tosses you off a cliff to teach you how to fly and then says you’re welcome.

And then he pulled this… a diplomatic maneuver disguised as a vacation. Tossed me a harem, slapped a fake reason into the papers, and used gallivanting with women as a legitimate pretext to sneak me into the Promised Dunes.

Xin Yune, wherever you are… our little Nongmin’s growing up. Becoming mischievous. Maybe even... playful.

I wasn’t sure whether to be proud or terrified.

Queen Liu Yana set her cup down with a soft clink. “So, let me summarize,” she said, voice dry as desert wind. “You’ve come to our borders not to negotiate, not to offer alliance or trade, but to frolic in my kingdom under the guise of imperial leisure… with a harem of guards, no less.”

“Well…” I started.

“You dare approach the Promised Dunes like it’s some kind of brothel oasis?” Her tone didn’t rise, but it was sharper than before. “And now you expect a warm welcome, free passage, and access to our lands without so much as an offering?”

I opened my mouth again. Closed it.

Jin Yi, for once, had the sense to remain quiet.

Xue Xin turned her head ever so slightly. I could see the glow of heat qi gathering behind her eyes.

Bai Zheme scratched his beard, like this were all very amusing.

The Queen exhaled through her nose and leaned forward just a hair. “If you want anything from the Promised Dunes, Lord Da Wei, you’ll need to speak in the language we understand… compensation.”

Her smile was thin. “Gold, knowledge, favors… or something else. We don’t trade in empty titles.”

I nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” I said, then gave a crooked smile. “But to clarify, I didn’t ask to be declared a sworn brother. And I didn’t ask for the harem either. That was just… the Emperor being the Emperor.”

Queen Liu Yana leaned back, studying me. I think she believed me. Ah, I could only hope so…

“Well then,” she said, voice cooled but not entirely appeased. “Let’s hope your offerings are more sensible than your reasons.”

It was time to negotiate.

Honestly, I was tempted to stray off the script in a petty attempt to just screw with Nongmin.