Immortal Paladin

I woke up gasping, like a man who had just surfaced from the bottom of the sea. My back arched, my lungs burned, and every sense reeled from the return. It felt like I had spent centuries and millenia inside that damn Eye, not just minutes. Technically, I probably had. Time bent differently inside Nongmin’s Heavenly Eye. Dreams folded into memory, memory into illusion, and somewhere along the way, I forgot I even had a body of my own.

I yawned, stretched, and found myself standing over the real body of Nongmin, who lay flat on the floor with blood running down from his nose like he’d just tried to outdrink a cultivator with a shattered liver. His eyes twitched open slowly, dazed, and I could feel the dizziness radiating off him like heat off sun-baked stone.

He looked like hell. I didn’t feel much better.

“In the end, you were not able to convince me,” I said flatly. “And I’m not killing anyone today.”

My voice was hoarse, but steady. That steadiness was important. It meant I still knew where my lines were, even after everything he’d tried to show me. Maybe especially because of it.

Nongmin coughed, more blood spattering his sleeve, and tried to sit up. He made it halfway before I sighed and pressed two fingers to his chest.

“Great Cure.”

Light surged into his body. His lungs stopped rattling, and his posture straightened as the dizziness cleared from his expression. He looked at me, exhaling slowly, and managed a wry smile despite himself.

“You can’t be too sure you weren’t convinced,” he said. ”I made my point, and now the rest is up to you.”

”Is it worth it?” I rolled my shoulders, feeling the weight of my true body again. “We spent what… thousands of years in there? Maybe more. I spent most of it beating the shit out of you and getting lost in your memories. Is it really worth it?”

Nongmin didn’t argue. He wouldn’t.

I had seen too much. Enough to know he was technically older than me, mentally speaking. But I refused to accept that. No way in hell. He was still a brat in my eyes. And if he pulled something like that again, I wouldn’t hesitate to slap him hard enough to send him skipping over to the next continent.

“Dave,” I murmured, reaching inward. My voice echoed through my soul like a whisper in a cathedral. “How long was I gone?”

The Holy Spirit responded with his usual reverence, calm and certain. “Less than an hour, My Lord.”

Time was a lie, then. Fucking compressed and dilated time… It was bullshit, I’d say. Nongmin groaned and finally got to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck like he had aged a thousand years. I could relate.

“My cultivation… it broke through?” I asked aloud, but it was mostly for Dave.

“Indeed, My Lord. Spirit Mystery Realm. First Star.”

A small thrill ran through me, but I kept it contained. The Spirit Mystery Realm. The advancement to Spirit Mystery came with a gift in the form of a new ability. But no two were the same, and the realm itself refused to explain what you’d gained. That was the ’mystery’, hence the name. Nongmin was the exception, since he could deduce his special ability upon awakening rather easily through his Heavenly Eye.

“Do you know what my ability is?” I asked, turning to Nongmin.

He smiled without warmth. “Yes.”

I waited. He said nothing.

“Well?”

“I’m not telling you.”

I stared at him, long and hard. If it had been anyone else, I’d have assumed petty spite. But Nongmin wasn’t usually the petty type…

Then again, maybe he was learning.

The faint scent of sweet fruit and fog drifted away from me as the effects of the Chibi Perfume finally faded. My limbs stretched, my bones lengthened, and my child-sized body filled out again into the form I remembered, the same way my clothes adjusted themselves. My adult body returned, the one that matched the weight of my choices and the burdens on my back.

I took a deep breath. The visions from inside Nongmin’s eye still swirled in my mind… wars fought, kingdoms lost, and truths buried. Fucking another version of me, fucking people up… I understood, now, what he was trying to show me. I didn’t agree, but I understood.

If I wanted to, I could probably challenge every expert on this continent. Maybe even this world. But to do it would demand more than just strength. It would take a sacrifice… too much, maybe.

“Stop glaring at me,” I said, looking at Nongmin. “I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

Nongmin stood like a stubborn monument to his own convictions, arms crossed, eyes blazing with that unnatural clarity he always wielded like a blade. His mouth twisted slightly, lips parting to voice yet another prophecy I had no desire to hear.

“The only way this world will be safe from the Gods of the Greater Universe,” he said, “is if we have one of our own. This world needs to be broken so that the curse of the Eleventh Realm will be lifted. With your lead, this world has a fighting chance.”

I raised a hand and cut him off.

“Enough.”

My voice didn’t thunder. It didn’t need to. It was calm, steady, and final. He blinked, his mouth still slightly open, but he didn’t speak.

“From now on,” I said, “this is what’s going to happen. You’re going to listen to me. You remember what you told me the day we arrived here? You told me to just be myself.” I took a slow breath and stepped closer, letting him feel the weight behind my words. “So I will. I don’t know if this is part of your next layered scheme… showing me those visions just to make me act this way. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But I’ve stopped caring what you think a long time ago, and I’ll keep not caring from here on out.”

He didn’t flinch. Good. That meant he was listening.

“So here’s the plan,” I continued. “You will fuck off… yes, exactly that… gather Ren Xun, Gu Jie, Zhu Shin, and Liang Na, and get back to the Empire. You’ll ride the Megatron and leave this place to me. I’ll stay. I’ll represent the Empire here at the summit. Do you understand?”

He stood silent for a heartbeat too long, then scowled. “No.”

Of course.

“The future’s stopped coming to me, David,” he said, and this time his voice cracked a little. “I can’t see tomorrow anymore. I have nothing but the data I already have. The only optimal move I see… the only one… is to go all in, with you! There’s no reason for you to carry it alone. I’m strong.”

“Strong?” I repeated with a scoff. “You’re a damn mess without your Heavenly Eye to lean on, working on an uncertain future by going all in? And here I thought you were the kind of guy that don’t gamble?”

“It’s all or nothing,” He pressed on, stubborn to the last. “And how are you going to represent the Empire when you…”

“Then make me your Grand Marshal,” I cut in, sharper now. “You suggested it. You said it first, not me. So I’m taking it. You already made me Lord of Riverfall Realm. Be grateful, you little shit.” I reached into my Item Box and pulled out the seal… the same one he’d given me before, back when things were simpler. I held it up between us, the weight of authority heavy in my palm. “And as proof, here. This.”

He glared at the seal as if it had personally insulted him.

“I refuse,” he said.

“I refuse your refusal,” I replied instantly.

He narrowed his eyes. “I refuse your refusal of my refusal.”

“And I refuse your refusal of my refusal for you to refuse.”

A beat passed. Then another. Both of us stood there in a standoff of idiocy and pride, until I broke the silence.

“This could go on forever,” I muttered. “But it won’t matter. You’ll go. Because I told you to.”

He stared at me, jaw tight. Then he spoke with slow defiance, voice almost trembling with something rawer than rage. “The truth is, you can’t make me.”

And there it was… the line drawn, the last card played! He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t truly make him do anything. He wasn’t bound to me by command or contract. No magical oaths, no divine chains. Just the brittle trust between two men who knew each other too well.

But I didn’t look away.

I stepped forward and placed the seal into his hand. Not pushed. Not forced. Just placed it there, and closed his fingers over it.

“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can ask you.”

The fire in his eyes faltered, only for a second, but it was enough.

He pressed the seal back into my hand, firm and steady.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I’ll be coming.”

That was enough.

“That’s all I need to hear,” I said with a smile, then reached out and patted him on the shoulder. To my surprise, he didn’t dodge it. Not even a flinch. His so-called Heavenly Eye, which once let him react to danger before it happened, must’ve been weaker out here… outside his Empire, outside the thousand layers of fate he wove like silk threads.

Whatever hung above this World Summit, it was powerful enough to interfere with his divine gift…

Maybe it was just that he trusted me. Or maybe he was exhausted.

Either way, I caught his gaze just as I cast the spell.

“Divine Word: Rest.”

Nongmin couldn’t resist. His eyes blinked once and twice, then fluttered closed as he slumped against my chest. His breathing softened almost instantly, light and even. I held him up for a moment, steadying his weight, and exhaled slowly.

“Sorry, my man,” I murmured. “But this is my show now.”

I activated Voice Chat, the thread that let me reach across distance like it wasn’t there.

“Liang Na. Zhu Shin. I need you. Now.”

They arrived within the minute, streaks of light and shadow slipping into the hallway with the subtle precision of high-level cultivators. Zhu Shin’s eyes went wide the moment he saw Nongmin slumped against me.

“What happened to His Majesty?” he demanded, already stepping forward. His hand hovered near the spear at his back.

“There’s no time,” I said calmly, shifting Nongmin’s weight toward them. “The Emperor isn’t feeling well. Liang Na, take him and return to the Empire. General Zhu Shin, act as their bodyguard.”

Zhu Shin’s hand closed around the shaft of his great spear. The tip of it shimmered as he pulled it free, channeling spirit into it.

“What have you done to His Majesty?” he growled. His voice was low and hard, laced with suspicion.

He leveled the weapon at me. Fair enough. That was his job.

I stepped forward, lifted a single finger, and tapped the spear’s tip. With a shimmer of something invisible and a flicker of spatial displacement, the weapon vanished into my Item Box.

I smiled faintly.

“Relax,” I said, casually. “If I meant him harm, he wouldn’t be breathing.”

Zhu Shin blinked. His eyes flicked from my empty hands to his now-missing weapon. He didn’t back down, but he didn’t charge either.

“We’re in a delicate situation,” I said, gentler now. “One wrong move could be the difference between peace and war. Life and death. Do you understand?”

He said nothing.

I opened my Divine Sense and extended it toward Nongmin’s pocket dimension. It took a moment to navigate the folds of his personal space, but I knew what I was looking for. The Megatron… his best ship, a magical construct of war and wonder, should have been stored somewhere deep within. My perception snagged on a cube pulsing with layered formations.

”Found it.”

I pulled it free and tossed it underhand to Zhu Shin.

“Use the Megatron,” I told him. “Take His Majesty home. That thing runs on formations. Ren Xun should be able to unlock it.”

Zhu Shin caught the cube with both hands, his eyes still narrowed.

“Nongmin once said Ren Xun inherited his talent for formations,” I added, tilting my head. “If you can’t figure it out, he will.”

Zhu Shin stared down at the cube. His hands clenched around it. Then he looked up at me, and I saw something shift in his eyes. Not trust… but something close. Unwilling trust. The kind that comes when you realize there weren’t better options.

“…Have you calmed down?” I asked.

He gave a small nod, reluctant and conflicted.

I smiled again and reached into my Item Box, pulling out the great spear I’d taken. I extended it toward him, and he took it wordlessly.

“What are you going to do?” Liang Na asked. Her voice was even, but her eyes weren’t. She’d seen too much to accept easy answers.

“I’m going to make a decision I’ll regret less than the alternative,” I said. I didn’t offer more. Not now.

Zhu Shin and Liang Na exchanged a look. Then, as if something passed silently between them, they each stepped forward and took one of Nongmin’s arms. Together, they lifted him with practiced care.

Just before they passed through the threshold, I called out.

“Make your evacuation discreet. Use the Megatron’s stealth protocols if it has one. Don’t make a scene.”

Liang Na nodded once, and then they were gone… three silhouettes fading into silence, likely detouring to pick up Ren Xun and Gu Jie from my room. And just like that, the room fell quiet again.

It was my show now.

”How long are you going to keep peeping?” I asked the empty room. “It’s becoming a bad habit now.”

A shimmer peeled back from the far wall, revealing Shouquan with that same unreadable calm. Ancient, white-robed, and annoyingly composed. His steps made no sound, and his presence felt like dust settling on a forgotten scroll… light but suffocating in meaning.

“They are getting impatient,” he said simply. “Everyone has gathered for the World Summit. Only the Empire’s representative has yet to arrive.”

I didn’t even sigh. I just gave him a sideways glance and said, “Let’s go.”

As I stepped outside, Tao Long joined us without a word, his armored form with scales gleaming in the light of the rising sun. We walked as a silent trio. One man of war, one man of wisdom, and me… whatever I was about to become.

The air was cool, but not cold. The streets were swept clean, lined with decorative lanterns and veiled sentries hiding behind pillars and enchantments. The city itself seemed to be holding its breath.

Shouquan broke the silence.

“That child… he is delusional. To fight the Greater Universe is inviting trouble.”

I stopped mid-step.

“We have no right to call him a child,” I said sharply. “That’s Xin Yune’s job. May she rest in peace.”

I thought it often, but saying it aloud added weight to the words. I missed her. Not just because of what she meant to Nongmin, but because of what she saw in him… and in me. Of course, I still thought of Nongmin as a child sometimes. Stubborn, idealistic, and reckless. But I couldn’t say it out loud anymore. He’d grown. In pain. In power. In vision.

Tao Long chimed in, “The Ward was created to protect the world from hostile Outsiders. That was our directive. But… the Emperor seems intent on going to them. To bring the fight to them. I cannot say if it’s ambition or recklessness.”

“He doesn’t want war,” I said. “He wants survival. He thinks this world can’t keep running forever in isolation. That someday the walls will collapse, whether we want them to or not. So he’s trying to tear them down first, while we still have a choice.”

Shouquan gave a hum, not dismissive, but ancient… like he’d heard the same thing a thousand times before.

“Perhaps,” he said, “but to us, this world isn’t a prison. That’s the difference. The Ward has spent eons protecting it from the shadows. We believe the walls are sacred. Not confining.”

“And you’ve murdered civilizations to keep those walls intact,” I snapped. “Outsiders, you say. But most were just mortals like the others… just… different. You call them foreign in nature, but their hearts still beat. Their souls still shone. Don’t pretend you don’t know, old man. You cannot lie to me. Just as you cannot lie to yourself.”

His face remained placid, but I could tell the words struck.

“And another thing,” I added. “You founded the Heavenly Temple, didn’t you? The same Temple behind the whole ‘Cleanse’ campaign? You can’t say your hands are clean, old man, when we know it isn’t. Tell me... How long have you been a part of it?”

Tao Long’s voice rose sharply and defensively. “That’s why Master left the Temple in the first place!”

But Shouquan raised a hand and shook his head gently.

“It’s fine, Long. Let him speak. People are free to think what they like. I like to think I made the right decision by choosing non-interference.”

He looked skyward for a moment, eyes tracing the curvature of the dome above us.

“What matters most is that this world stays protected and isolated from the Greater Universe.”

No wonder he and Nongmin couldn’t walk the same path. They wanted different things. Shouquan wanted stasis. Nongmin wanted evolution. But, interestingly enough, they were more similar than they appeared to be.

We reached the towering building at the city’s heart… black marble, shaped like a great oculus turned skyward, guarded by wards humming with barely-restrained might. The place where the World Summit would begin.

I stopped before the entrance and turned to Shouquan.

“You told me once that I’d inherit the title of the Guardian of the Arch Gate in exchange for your help reviving my disciples, didn’t you?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, measuring.

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Let’s do it now. From what I understand, the Guardian becomes the de facto leader of the Ward, right?”

“Something like that,” he replied. “But not the supreme leader. As the founding head, all decisions still pass through me.”

I stepped closer, just enough to make him look me in the eyes.

“Let’s do this,” I said. “Make me the Guardian of the Arch Gate. Give the Ward to me. I’ll protect this world in my way. I’ll do what needs doing to stop the end you think is coming… It’s  today, isn’t it?”

His silence told me I was right.

“You can’t see the future anymore, can you?” I continued. “Your precognition is failing. No offense, but Nongmin’s surpassed you there. Maybe because he feels for the world in ways you’ve stopped doing. Here’s the big reveal: Nongmin’s Heavenly Eye is failing him, and there is a bigger threat right in front of us. I imagine we won’t be able to contend with this threat, even with all of the cultivators present at this Summit. I don’t know how it will play out, but I know what I want. How about you? Do you really know what you want?”

I took a breath.

“Shouquan of Ward, make your decision quickly. Are you willing to put your hope and faith in me… or are you going to just watch like the many years you’ve failed to do something when you knew you could have done anything?”

The wind stirred. A bird circled far overhead. Tao Long said nothing. But for the first time, I saw hesitation flicker across Shouquan’s expression. And maybe, I saw something else too… like relief. I couldn’t say.