Immortal Paladin

I stared at the rising sun through the lattice window, its golden warmth slowly trickling into the dim room. Outside, the people stirred in hushed preparation, commoners whispering and rushing about like ghosts preparing for war. The World Summit was upon us.

I’d left Gu Jie in my room. She needed rest, or at least some quiet to process everything she had been through. As for me, I sat alone inside Nongmin’s quarters. This one was quieter, warded, and far from the bustle. I was waiting for him, for Nongmin, who had promised to speak with me before everything began. Knowing him, he was either dealing with a last-minute emergency or just enjoying the thrill of watching me stew.

My thoughts drifted to Shouquan.

The old man had returned to his mountain, but I wasn’t buying it. He didn’t say much at first, but before leaving, he told me something that lingered.

“I’ll be evacuating Mei’er… by force if necessary.”

He didn’t smile when he said it. In fact, he looked older than I’d ever seen him.

What still bugged me was how he did it. Transplanting his daughter into his disciple? Not possession, not soul transfer… just… some mystical sleight of hand that left Tian Mei inside Tian En’s bloodline and body, yet distinctly herself. I couldn’t fully wrap my head around it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I sighed and pulled out a small jade vial from my Item Box. Inside it shimmered threads of Immortal Qi… or Quintessence. A gift from Shouquan, instead of deciding to let me inside him again.

”Don’t use Divine Possession on me again,” he’d told me, eyes stern. ”I realize my foolishness. It’s my first time brushing with existence at the level... of that.”

By that, he meant the old woman on the bridge.

Fine by me.

My skill, Divine Word: Raise, had cooled down now. It was ready. The last time I used it, it had burned through my soul like dry paper in a furnace. But now… I had experience. I didn’t need to repeat everything, just refer to it… like pulling a file from memory.

I summoned Ren Xun’s body, gently laying it out on the table. He still looked serene. I uncorked the vial. The scent of heavenly wind mixed with molten metal hit me. It was sacred and sharp. I inhaled the vapor, letting the Immortal Qi enter my body. My ‘existence’ flickered, pulsing with unnatural brightness. Then I began casting.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

I didn’t have Shouquan’s ridiculous bloodline sense to help me now, so I compensated. I focused my Divine Sense into the ether, fanned it with the Soulful Guiding Fire, and began my search. The underworld didn’t feel deep to me anymore… it felt wide. Layered. And somewhere in that mess, I found Ren Xun’s soul.

He was running. No, sprinting.

He darted through a moonlit landscape, screaming.

Behind him, a group of pale-skinned women in sheer, indecent strips of clothing gave chase. Yin energy dripped off them like perfume. Their laughter was melodic. And slightly unhinged.

“Oh gods… WHY DID I TRY TO ESCAPE THE BRIDGE?!” Ren Xun’s soul wailed, tripping over a rock that didn’t exist. ”I SHOULDN’T HAVE ESCAPED THE BRIDGE!”

The yin women descended on him, forming a circle. A spiritual formation flared to life beneath them… trapping him. Spectral chains wrapped around Ren Xun. It’s ironic, considering he was the formation guy. One of them unwrapped what little clothing she had and…

”Okay, that’s enough.”

Miraculously, they were stripping his soul. I didn’t even know souls had clothes. I don’t know what those spirits were, but they had intent. If I could’ve dropped a Heavenly Punishment right then and there, I would’ve. Instead, I settled for a quick Exorcise, targeting the formation. The soul-bound chains shattered. The women shrieked and dispersed like fog in sunlight.

Ren Xun collapsed, sobbing into his glowing palms as the Exorcise spell hit him too.

I sighed again. “You’re welcome.”

I continued the Divine Word: Raise, guiding his soul back to his body. The Quintessence reacted immediately, fusing spirit and flesh like a lock snapping into place.

And then… his eyes shot open.

Ren Xun jolted up with a gasp so loud it echoed off the warded walls. He scrambled backward, clutching his chest.

“I… I was violated!” he yelled.

“Technically, almost violated,” I corrected.

He blinked at me, then looked down at his hands. He was alive. Pale, panting, confused, but alive.

“You’re welcome,” I added, a little drier this time.

Ren Xun trembled, then threw up his hands. “You left me there for how long?!”

“Wow, gratitude much?” I shrugged. “Long enough to learn your lesson, I guess.”

He groaned and laid back down, arm over his eyes. “I hate this world.”

“Get in line.”

I took a deep breath, the residual Immortal Qi still tickling my veins.

Ren Xun sat still for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with deep, deliberate breaths. For someone who had just been yanked out of the underworld, he looked... composed. Too composed if I was being honest. His gaze swept the room once, then landed on me with eerie clarity, like he had already accepted everything in a single breath.

“I remember everything,” he said, voice hoarse but steady. “The bridge, the women, the cold... the shame.”

“Let’s not dwell on the afterlife’s... questionable hospitality,” I replied. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”

He nodded once, slow and thoughtful. And then, without warning, his expression crumbled.

“I… I failed,” he said, eyes shaking. “Back then, I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t stop him. I died like a fool, and…”

He fell to his knees and started bowing low, arms shaking as he reached for a kowtow. I moved before he could press his forehead to the floor.

I grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him with a firm hand.

“Don’t. You’re not allowed to do that in front of me,” I said, and maybe my voice was sharper than I meant it to be. “I already brought back Gu Jie. You’re the last. There’s no one left to resurrect.”

His eyes widened. “Gu Jie... she’s alive?”

“She’s in my room, resting. You’ll see her soon. Try not to make it dramatic.”

Just then, the door opened.

The temperature in the room shifted like someone had dragged in a storm. I turned and saw Nongmin enter, clad in scorched armor. Soot clung to the edges of his pauldrons. His cloak, usually pristine, carried the scent of burning earth. He was a vision of calm violence, like a war god who hadn’t slept in days.

Ren Xun immediately stood and bowed, posture stiff and respectful.

“Grandfather.”

Nongmin nodded, his gaze flicking briefly over his grandson. “Good. I’m glad you’re alive again.”

That was all. No embrace. No sigh of relief. No lingering smile. Just a single sentence, spoken with the same finality he used to declare battlefield orders. I would’ve appreciated the moment more if the man could show something. Anything. But that was just the way Nongmin was… an emperor even when he was supposed to be family.

“I need to speak with Da Wei,” he said.

Ren Xun understood at once. He turned to me.

“She’s been filled in,” I told Ren Xun. “I gave her everything I could. Gu Jie should be able to catch you up.”

He gave a respectful nod, then offered one more bow, this one to Nongmin, before stepping out.

The door closed behind him with a dull click.

Nongmin didn’t speak right away. He walked over to one of the chairs and sat down slowly, as if the weight of his armor wasn’t entirely physical. He leaned forward just slightly, fingers steepled. His gaze met mine, sharp and unreadable.

He didn’t blink.

He just stared.

A second passed.

Then a minute.

And I stared back, trying not to let his silence crawl under my skin.

Nongmin didn’t speak for a long time. He just stared at me like I was already a corpse… or worse, a god he couldn’t recognize. The kind that didn’t answer prayers. Then, without so much as a warning, he said, “You’re going to end the world, Da Wei.”

His voice didn’t rise, didn’t tremble. Just a simple statement. I could’ve sworn he was describing the weather.

“If not today,” he continued, “then sometime in the future.”

I blinked. Slowly. “That’s… a bold way to start a conversation.”

“I’ve been dreaming about it every night since I met you,” he said. “At first, I thought I was mistaken. But the closer we came to today, the clearer it became. You’re the catalyst. The fulcrum to everything.”

“Shouquan said something similar,” I muttered. “But he was vague. You, on the other hand… You know more.”

He didn’t deny it. Of course, he didn’t.

“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me about this end of the world.”

Nongmin leaned back in his chair. His armor creaked, heavy with the weight of ash and blood and responsibility. He rested one hand on the hilt of his sword, more from habit than threat.

“This Hollowed World,” he said, “is cursed. Every inch of it, from the deepest abyss to the highest cloud-walked peak. The curse doesn’t come in the form of demonic beasts or external enemies… it comes as madness. A boundary placed on us by... something greater.”

He glanced toward the ceiling as if he could see through the heavens above.

“No cultivator has ever ascended beyond the Tenth Realm without paying a price,” he continued. “The Eleventh Realm—what we call the Perfect Immortal—is sealed. Anyone who enters it… breaks. The curse manifests as a special kind of insanity. Not rage. Not bloodlust. Something deeper. Something existential. The kind of madness that eats your sense of self from the inside.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And you?”

“I could’ve ascended long ago,” Nongmin admitted. “But I’ve been suppressing my cultivation all this time. Holding myself back every hour of every day. Because once I take that step, I won’t come back from it.”

I didn’t doubt it. His presence was already so condensed that it distorted the air. If he was holding back, then it was by an inhuman force of will.

“A few thousand years ago… maybe less… Perfect Immortals weren’t so rare,” he went on. “Of course, they are rare in a way that matters, but the point is... they existed. The world was filled with hidden masters willing to break bones and bleed to death to fight Outsiders and sometimes even aid them. But one by one, they all lost their minds. Turned into something unrecognizable. Some vanished. Some had to be killed.”

My brows furrowed. “So the Eleventh Realm is a trap.”

“Yes. A beautifully laid trap. And now… anyone who dares to reach for it either dies or goes insane.”

I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking. “What does that have to do with me? With the world ending?”

He inhaled slowly, as if the act itself pained him. “Because once the world ends, the curse ends with it. And once the curse ends, this world becomes accessible to the Greater Universe. The infinite universe, Da Wei. The true cosmos beyond our borders.”

I stared at him.

“And I end this world, the Hollowed World,” I said flatly. “That’s your vision.”

He nodded. “It’s not good news or bad news. It’s simply a fact.”

I felt my voice dry. “And the World Summit?”

“Everything,” Nongmin said. “The World Summit is where it all begins. At least, with the way it is going, that’s where it will begin.”

He leaned forward now, elbows on knees, eyes boring into mine like twin suns on the verge of burning out.

“You’re going to kill a lot of people today, Da Wei. That’s not a prophecy. That’s inevitability. I’ve seen a thousand branches, and almost all of them are soaked in blood.”

“And you?” I asked.

His lips twitched. “Even I don’t know if I’ll live through the day. Like I said… beyond the Summit, I can’t see.”

Silence fell between us again. My thoughts ran like wildfire.

“How?” I asked. “How do I end the world?”

He shook his head. “That part is unclear. But I know this: it will be by your hand. Whether by choice, accident, or something else entirely… you’ll be the one to bring the end.”

The quiet was suffocating. I closed my eyes for a moment.

“And this,” I murmured, “is just the beginning?”

He nodded.

“The beginning of what?”

Nongmin smiled. For the first time in a long while, it wasn’t guarded.

“Your path,” he said, “to godhood.”

I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. I was scared. Nongmin had said a lot of things since day one I met him. Some absurd, some prophetic, some laced with the kind of dry sarcasm only someone like him could pull off without cracking a smile. But this? This wasn’t one of those times. This wasn’t a riddle or a half-joke hiding wisdom. This was Nongmin being dead serious, and that scared the hell out of me.

He was the kind of guy who might prank me by throwing a harem my way or a gender bender curse. But when it came to the heavy stuff… death, fate, the world itself… he didn’t joke.

“Tell me more about it,” I said. My voice was steady, but I felt anything but calm.

“You will die,” he replied simply.

I blinked. “Okay?”

“First you end the world,” he said, completely unfazed. “Then you die.”

I leaned back in my seat and exhaled. “Right. Great. That’s just… amazing. Love that for me.”

Honestly, I had long suspected the World Summit wouldn’t be simple. From the moment I got the invitation, there had been that itch, that hum beneath my skin telling me it was all a setup, or a turning point, or a trap disguised as a banquet. But damn… when things in my life started escalating, they really didn’t know when to stop.

I rubbed my temples and muttered, “This better not be some kind of divine hazing ritual.”

I looked up again, more serious this time. “How clear are your visions? You said your Heavenly Eye weakens outside the Empire.”

Nongmin gave a slow nod. “That’s true. But it is still powerful enough to see certain futures. Especially when they involve... you. Your future isn’t fixed, but it is inevitable. Not because of fate or destiny. But because you are who you are.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?” I’m getting tired of these riddles.

“There are things in life that you must let go,” he said. “But you can’t. Because that’s not you.”

My chest tightened. My thoughts flashed to Xin Yune… her silver-lotus smile, her final night under the bodhi tree, her voice as she told me she was proud. She had said something similar before she died. And hearing Nongmin echo it, in the same slow, honest tone, hit like a blade between the ribs.

“You are a creature of emotion,” he said, no gentleness in his voice now. “You fall in love easily. You care too much. You want too deeply. You hurt too often. You hate losing. You’re impulsive and passionate. You think like a child, but you cling to principles like an adult.”

“Wow,” I muttered. “Thanks for the therapy session, doc.”

But he didn’t smile. His eyes burned with something like grief.

“You are an abomination,” he said quietly. “A soul stitched together from two separate lives. Patched by a power neither of us understands. David.”

My breath caught.

He never called me that. Never. Not once. Not in this world.

But he said it perfectly. “David.” No accent. No stumble. Not Da Wei. David!

He wasn’t guessing.

He knew.

“Just… how much do you know?” I whispered.

“I’ve spoken to you in more realities than I can count,” he said. “Some are better than this one. Some worse. I’ve seen you live as a slave after a series of encounters. Sometimes, as a king, after being provoked enough. Rarely as a beast when you really had lost it. Most often, just a storm of bits and everything. And every time, I find myself drawn to you. Maybe it’s my mother’s influence. Maybe it’s the curse of the Eye. Or maybe... I just like you.”

His voice grew distant.

Normally, I’d throw in a jab, but...

“You are my friend,” he said, with painful clarity. “But the Empire comes first.”

I looked at him. Really looked. This was the boy who had grown up under the weight of an empire, who had buried his mother with quiet hands and dry eyes, who had ruled with both cruelty and mercy. This was the man who could order a thousand deaths without blinking… but who remembered the names of the servants who raised him.

He didn’t want my forgiveness. He didn’t want my understanding. He just wanted me to know.

“That’s why I’ve decided,” he said, voice steady, “I don’t mind if you hate me. Despite everything.”

And then, finally, he said something that broke whatever armor I still had left.

“The Empire will die with me,” he said, almost softly. “And its people will be reborn with your love.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

My mouth was dry. My heart was loud.

“This is the future I saw,” he said.

And I believed him. Every word.