Immortal Paladin

Yuen Fu told me The Mighty Fist of Goryeo was a martial arts novel about building a nation. But after reading the first few chapters, I could confidently say: he either lied to me or had a very creative interpretation of what it meant to build a nation. There was no kingdom planning, no alliances forged through politics or diplomacy… just one overpowered swordsman who could slice through a dozen enemies in a single breath.

A sword, seriously? And it was supposed to be called The Mighty Fist of Goryeo? Who even was Goryeo?

The guy didn’t raise a flag or form a government… he just crushed everything in his path. It was entertaining, sure. The kind of story that would have gone viral on old Earth forums for how absurdly powerful the main character was. But in terms of depth? It barely scraped the surface.

Still, the world-building in the novel had its moments. Yuen Fu probably gave it to me because the martial hierarchy described in it mirrored the real system here. The rankings started from third-rate martial artists and rose through second-rate, first-rate, expert, master, grand master, and supreme master… each stage broken into early, mid, late, and peak. It felt so familiar, like those murim or wuxia web novels I used to read just to pass the time. Based on the descriptions, I figured my current martial ability sat comfortably in the expert class. At that stage, a martial artist could enhance their senses to absurd levels, seeing a fly’s wing twitch from across a courtyard, for example. That was Qi Sense in all but name, the first trait unlocked after reaching Mind Enlightenment.

It was another sign this world wasn’t truly foreign. Not like the Hollowed World if compared to Lost Legends Online, which were two vastly different places. This place felt closer to Hollowed World in terms of logic and culture, even if that logic involved chi-infused sword strikes and undead invasions.

As I closed the book and tucked it back into my robe, I sighed. The Hollowed World lingered in my mind like a persistent shadow. I’d left behind a storm, and I knew it. My final move had been too loud and disruptive. I imagined the Grand Ascension Empire collapsing and factions retaliating, the balance I’d shaken toppling like a house of cards. Nongmin would have to pick up the pieces, and I told myself he could handle it… But who was I kidding? That was wishful thinking, born of guilt and the desperation to believe my choices hadn’t caused irreparable damage.

”This is just so... bleak...”

My journey home had already become a chronicle of horrors. Not the grand, sweeping battles of fallen empires, but the insidious decay that gnawed at the edges of civilization. Empty villages stood as silent witnesses to vanished lives, their windows like vacant eyes staring out at a future they would not see. The shadows held a new, more primal fear... the rabid, demonic beasts that now roamed the plains became more and more reckless as I saw them frequenting areas they shouldn’t. Idle dead bodies were occasionally showing up from here and there.

”I might have underestimated the fall of the Sun Empire...”

I moved like a whisper through the skeletal branches of the ancient trees. Avoiding the main roads was a survival instinct, a desperate attempt to bypass whatever horrors lay in wait on those well-traveled paths. Side quests held no allure to me. My singular focus was the sanctuary of my own roof, the familiar scent of home, and the hope that something, anything, remained.

The unsettling reality, however, was hard to ignore. The Empire, the iron fist that had, for better or worse, maintained a semblance of order, had fallen just days ago. Barely over a week. And already, this was the landscape. This was the legacy of statelessness.

”I shouldn’t force myself too much. I should rest my legs if I can...”

Eventually, I fell asleep on a thick branch, cradled by the rustle of leaves and the soft moan of wind. It wasn’t comfortable, but I’d slept in worse conditions. When morning arrived, I was already on the move, hopping from tree to tree, heading toward Willow Village. It was better than walking, and I didn’t want to risk running into any fights if it was possible.

As I soared through the canopy, Jue Bu’s voice echoed in my mind. “So, what’s the grand plan once you reach Willow Village?”

I almost laughed. He had a way of asking questions that always sounded like he was daring me to be a fool. I answered with a groan, “Honestly, I don’t know. I said something dramatic back there, told them they could follow me if they wanted. Gave them an excuse to delay… check on their families first, I said. But I don’t really know what I’m going to do once I get home.”

There was a pause, then Jue Bu responded, his voice quieter than usual. “You plan to protect them.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

But of course, Jue Bu had to ruin the moment. “Knowing fate, it won’t be as simple as that.”

“I guess the first thing I’ll do is give each of them a hug,” I muttered, mostly to myself, thinking of my family. “I am feeling generous today, do you want a hug too, Jue Bu?”

Jue Bu scoffed. “Hah~! Not in a thousand years!”

That was when the warning hit me.

It wasn’t a sound or a flash of movement… it was the sudden pulse from my Divine Sense, now woven seamlessly with Qi Sense. It prickled along my skin, sharp as thorns. Danger. Real danger.

My body moved before thought caught up. Twisting mid-air, I narrowly avoided the arrow that tore past my shoulder. It left behind the hiss of air displaced, and then came the cold gleam of steel. A spear, point-first, appeared in front of my face like a phantom executioner. I had no footing, nowhere to leap from. Flash Step? Out of the question. Even Zealot’s Stride wouldn’t work without a starting push. There was less than a heartbeat to act. No weapons… everything worth wielding was left behind for the 112th.

My elbow shot forward.

I didn’t have to think about the form. Flash Parry took shape on instinct, and I struck the shaft of the spear with raw weight, redirecting the blow just enough to save my face. The good news: the spear missed. The bad? The attacker’s knee didn’t.

Pain bloomed in my gut as his leg planted itself into my abdomen like a hammerhead. I dropped like a comet, the impact cracking the earth as air burst from my lungs. Dazed, I rolled just in time to see a madman with an axe leap into the air, a sick grin on his cracked lips. He screamed something guttural and incomprehensible, swinging straight for my skull.

Palm to earth. War Smite activated.

The ground detonated beneath my hand, flinging me in the opposite direction with concussive force as I dodged wild swings from a swordsman that appeared out of nowhere. I spiraled mid-air, twisted my body, and landed hard, foot stabbed into the soil to kill my momentum. My back ached, ribs groaned, but I was on my feet.

Then I felt them.

More presences entered my Divine Sense. I could now see them through it… circles of violent intent tightening around me.

The spear user descended faster than before. I shot backward with minimal effort, letting his blade kiss the dirt where I once stood. It wasn’t until I got a proper look at his face that the realization struck.

These people weren’t alive.

Their movements, while fluid and artful, carried the strange stiffness of puppets mimicking grace. Their skin was pallid and sunken, their breath nonexistent. One glance at the eyes was enough… dead, glassy, and full of hunger. Jiangshi.

But these weren’t the hopping corpses from old folklore. These bastards could fight.

The spear wielder wore remnants of armor I recognized. It belonged to the Iron Squadron. More arrows came from the trees, but I weaved through them like walking through heavy rain. One step to the side, and an arrow missed. Tilt my head, a second one passed. A half-step forward, another narrowly avoided. My body responded without delay. My mind remained sharp.

“Reveal yourself,” I commanded, voice firm.

No response. Just more movement. More rot-clad warriors surrounding me, dragging ancient blades, eyes gleaming with intent not their own. They emerged from the foliage, from the soil, from every shadow. Rusted helmets. Torn uniforms. Empty expressions. A sword came from behind, an axe from the right, and an arrow straight for my eyes.

I ducked low.

My palm smacked the flat of the axe, and my foot shot backward into the sword wielder’s knee. I caught the arrow mid-flight, then hurled it back like a dart. It struck the axe user right between the brows. I pivoted and seized the swordsman by the chest.

“Exorcise.”

With a single thought, the body went limp. Lifeless, for real this time.

That worked better than I expected.

The axe-wielder lurched again, even with an arrow protruding from his face. I vanished from his sight, reappearing behind him with Flash Step. My hand closed around the back of his skull.

“Begone,” I whispered, and cast Exorcise again. 

His body crumpled like sand losing form.

“I won’t repeat myself,” I said aloud, letting my voice travel across the field, laced with killing intent. “Reveal yourself to me… or meet the same fate.”

The spear user snarled an inhuman sound and dashed once more, faster than before. I raised my fist, surged Thunderous Smite into my arm, and flickered with Flash Step. The two techniques met in perfect harmony. I became a blur of motion, the wind howling as I appeared just before him.

My fist struck his face.

The impact shattered his skull like glass under pressure, and his body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud.

Softly, I murmured into the stillness left behind, “This is my last warning. Reveal yourself to me… or you’ll perish just like the rest.”

More arrows rained from the canopy above, but they might as well have been leaves in the wind. I launched myself at the trunk of a nearby tree and activated War Smite through the soles of my feet. The knockback effect of the skill should generate enough force to propel me forward at incredible speeds… It was a calculated recoil. The shockwave launched me forward like a bullet, propelling me straight through the volley of arrows. Every shaft missed me by a hair’s breadth. In that brief instant of flight, I tucked my arms and pierced through the green veil of leaves concealing the one watching me.

The Peeping Tom had a face, and it was twisted in fear.

He wore a golden robe, embroidered with archaic symbols, and a black chou headdress… one of those formal court pieces scholars and ministers used to wear during royal assemblies. His eyes widened as I broke through the foliage like a thunderclap. He panicked, scrambling backward, leaping to another branch in retreat. In desperation, he flicked something toward me. It shimmered in the light, barely more than a thread.

A needle.

To most, it would’ve been invisible. To me, it was clear as day.

My skin responded before I needed to think. Divine Flesh triggered, my muscles hardening beneath my borrowed robes. The needle struck my collarbone with a barely audible ping before falling harmlessly to the earth below. A faint chemical stench clung to it. Poison. Subtle, nearly odorless, but to my empowered senses it was unmistakable.

He tried to flee, thinking he had bought time. He didn’t.

“Divine Speed.”

The world snapped into motion, blurred and stretched. Zealot’s Stride activated in tandem, allowing my feet to barely touch each branch as I closed the distance between us. Within seconds, I was on him. My hand latched onto the back of his neck, fingers digging into flesh. With a twist and a downward burst of strength, I slammed him into the forest floor.

Dirt exploded on impact.

The ground split under the weight of his landing, but I knew it wouldn’t kill him. He was sturdier than his refined clothing suggested. Maybe reinforced with cultivation. Maybe something else. Either way, he had bones to spare.

So I broke one.

My heel slammed down on his foot, and Divine Smite shattered it with a crack that echoed like a firecracker through the trees. The man screamed, a brief, high-pitched thing that twisted into something else. I grabbed his hair, forcing his face toward mine.

“Who do you work for?” I demanded. “What are your goals?”

He didn’t answer with fear or begging. No, his eyes rolled back, and a sickening ecstasy washed over his face. He grinned with a fanatic’s zeal.

“Glory to the Yama King!” he cried.

Then his body convulsed. His mouth foamed. I saw his stomach bulge unnaturally before he exploded, literally, into a wave of blood, bile, and something more grotesque than I could put into words. Guts, pus, and liquified organs painted the trees, the leaves, and me.

The shock and stench hit me like a punch to the face. I dropped to my knees, retching as my throat seized up. Green and red pus, thick like jelly, spilled from my mouth. It burned… no, it festered in my throat, trying to crawl back down. I spat again and again, trying to clear the poison, but it clung to me like cursed tar.

“Fuuuuck…” I gasped, spitting another glob into the dirt. My arms trembled. My fingers dug into the soil for balance. “We’ve got a Heavenly Demon and now a Yama King?”

I tried to steady my breath and tried to think, but the world tilted. My vision spun in fractured circles. I stood, barely, only for my body to collapse forward, face-first into the blood and guts left behind by that madman.

My mouth was open.

My skin was coated in it.

I groaned, barely able to think through the wave of nausea crashing through me. “Shit…” I whispered, eyes swimming, “I don’t even know if this is bad luck or divine punishment at this point…”

Then everything went black.

I was dreaming… or at least, I thought I was. It felt too vivid to be anything else. I found myself inside the Eye again. Nongmin’s Heavenly Eye. That floating, kaleidoscopic realm of divinity and madness I once brushed against. But this time, the dream was different. It wasn’t a reenactment, nor some muddled recollection. The surroundings didn’t shift like memory often does. They stared back at me.

He was there. The Existence.

He wore my face, but not my expression. His golden eyes gleamed with something twisted… amusement, hunger, and cruelty. His grin stretched wider than mine ever could. “I’m enjoying this,” he said, voice rich with mockery. “Struggle more.”

It was the same Existence that interrupted the visions Nongmin had been showing me before the Summit!

I gasped awake, throat raw, body in agony.

Pain exploded across my shoulder… an arrow, clean through the muscle. My arms were sticky with blood. My breath came in ragged bursts. I heard more arrows cutting through the air, but they thudded into the dirt or nearby trunks, wildly off-mark. They were operating without aim now, like puppets flailing after their strings had been cut. I could tell they were still dangerous, if only by sheer numbers and persistence.

I tried to move, dragging myself across the wet earth. My fingers dug grooves into the soil, leaving streaks of crimson in my wake. But my body refused to cooperate. Every twitch brought a fresh flare of agony, like my nerves were screaming. I knew I was dying. The poison burned through my veins like boiling tar. It wasn’t just pain, but desecration of my being. I could smell my flesh cooking from the inside. It was faint at first, like overripe meat, but it grew stronger with each breath.

I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t.

“No…” I hissed, biting down on the inside of my cheek to stay conscious. “I… refuse…”

I was not going to die here.

I summoned my lifeforce. Even if it burned what little I had left, even if I cut years off my dwindling life, I forced it into shape.

“Blessed Regeneration.” 

Gold light flickered around me, fighting the corruption invading my body. But it was like trying to purify mud with fire… the sickness clung to me, laughing at my defiance. The healing failed. My skin continued to bubble and blister beneath the surface. I was tearing apart.

Another arrow slammed into my back.

I didn’t even know where. Somewhere above the hip. Maybe the thigh. My sense of space was dissolving. Even my Divine Sense, usually sharp and omnipresent, was fading, like static eating away at a signal. I could no longer discern where the enemy was, only that they were still watching.

With blood filling my mouth and dirt scraping my cheek, I bit down on a scream and summoned more lifeforce. It was suicide. I knew that. But if I didn’t act, I would die here… like a dog, half-dead, poisoned and forgotten. I didn’t care if this cost me years. I’d rather die ten years sooner than now.

“Come… forth…” I choked out. “Summon: Holy Spirit…”

Light flared somewhere behind my eyes.

My vision blurred, memories twisted. I saw a hand, scooping me up. Someone was running, their steps surprisingly soft for the weight they carried. My head lolled back, my muscles giving out, but I caught one last detail before everything slipped into blackness.

A red scarf fluttered behind them, cutting through the forest like a banner soaked in sunset.

Then nothing.