Immortal Paladin

[POV: Lu Gao]

The fugitive life had been unkind to Lu Gao. Every sunrise brought a new hunt, every nightfall a scramble for shelter, and somehow, the burden of keeping the trio relatively intact both socially and physically had fallen squarely on his shoulders. He was not surprised; of the three of them, he was the only one who retained any semblance of sense. Yuen Fu was a child of chaos, a native of a qi-starved world that had taught him nothing but desperation and violence. He fought with the instincts of a survivor, but survival alone was not leadership. As for Jue Bu, the old monster wandered in half-ignorance, his vast experience buried under the dust of forgotten centuries. Worse, he wore Da Wei’s face, but the resemblance was poisoned by a warped personality that leaned far too heavily into arrogance and disdain. It had been maddening to look upon that likeness while enduring his antics.

Still, Lu Gao had endured. He guided them from ambush to ambush, moving them between hidden valleys, burned villages, and fractured cities. But it never lasted long. Cultivators came hunting, drawn by the bounties placed upon their heads. In truth, it was not them who were hunted… It was Da Wei’s likeness, Jue Bu’s stolen mask of flesh. The heavens themselves seemed to decree that Da Wei’s shadow haunted them, and the wanted posters spread across provinces only confirmed it. Yet Lu Gao bore the brunt of it all, mediating between Yuen Fu’s reckless tempers and Jue Bu’s stubborn eccentricities, grinding his teeth while keeping their ragged group alive.

Matters only worsened a hundred thirty-three suns ago. Roughly three months, but to Lu Gao it felt like a century’s worth of suffering compressed into those days. It began with a suffocating night where the stars hid behind choking smoke. The palace before them burned like a funeral pyre, golden roofs collapsing into embered ruin. Screams had long since faded, leaving only the crackle of flames and the hiss of dying spirits. Lu Gao’s robes clung to him, sweat mingling with ash, but his gaze remained fixed on the person in front of him.

There stood Yuen Fu, trembling over the corpse of a nobleman. The man’s robes were torn, his jeweled sash soaked in blood. A hand weakly reached toward the youth, grasping for life, before falling still. Yuen Fu’s chest heaved, each breath ragged, each sob hidden behind clenched teeth. His blonde hair sparked with uncontrolled currents, each strand alive with lightning that danced and cracked around his form. His cultivation had risen sharply, unnaturally, and Lu Gao knew why. The Hollowed World and the False Earth were different in their very marrow. Where Yuen Fu’s homeland had been stripped barren of qi, this world swam in it, and his body, long starved of nourishment, devoured the energies without restraint. That gluttony had propelled him into the Sixth Realm, far beyond what his years should have allowed.

Lu Gao, too, had risen. The memories of war in the False Earth had tempered him, sharpened his foundation. Witnessing the clash between the Supreme Void and the Warden had left scars on his spirit, but also profound insights. He had cultivated ruthlessly in their months on the run, his body and soul ascending into the Sixth Realm with the help of what hell forces that remained in his veins. Purple flames licked across his arms, the manifestation of his anger and sorrow. The fire was fierce, eager to consume, but he forced it back into restraint, grinding it into discipline rather than indulgence. This was not the time for his fury to blaze unchecked.

He turned to Yuen Fu, only to see tears streaking the younger man’s soot-stained face. Yuen Fu’s hands trembled as he stared at the dead nobleman, not as a foe slain, but as another fragment of a world that had offered nothing but cruelty. The crackle of his lightning dimmed, reduced to a faint spark, as his knees buckled and he collapsed beside the body. His sobs broke through, raw and unrefined, his voice trembling as he lifted his eyes to the dark heavens above.

“Why?” His words were hoarse, his throat breaking with the weight of the question. “Why are the heavens so unfair? Why do the powerful stay on top, untouched, while the weak are nothing but cattle to be slaughtered and devoured?”

The courtyard reeked of smoke, blood, and charred flesh. Around Lu Gao lay the remains of soldiers, their armor melted by his purple fire or their bodies shattered by Yuen Fu’s lightning. Beyond them stretched a scene even more grotesque, lifeless children with dull eyes and dark blood pooling from under them. The lord of this palace had gathered orphans from the streets, training them to be nothing more than brainwashed soldiers, using mysterious methods. Those who failed were reduced to ingredients and refined into pills, or worse, sold as slaves to the highest bidder.

It was this revelation that had driven Yuen Fu into a frenzy. The man had unleashed his fury like a thunderstorm, slaughtering without hesitation, convinced that if he destroyed the source, he could make a difference. Lu Gao, standing amidst the carnage, knew better.

“You are not Master Wei,” Lu Gao said, his voice low but cutting.

“That’s ‘liege’ to you!” Yuen Fu snapped back, eyes blazing. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Where have you been, huh? When all these kids were suffering, being brainwashed, stripped of their souls! Where were you then? Now, you arrive late and scold me?”

The accusation stung, but Lu Gao’s gaze did not waver. His heart tightened with anger and pity in equal measure. “There is nothing we could have done,” he said firmly. “All you’ve accomplished is making our lives harder, slowing us from reuniting with Master Wei, the man who saved us both. Every rash act you take pulls us further away from him.”

Yuen Fu’s fists clenched, lightning coiling tighter around him as tears streaked his ash-stained face. His voice trembled, raw with conviction. “That’s the difference between you and me. To you, Da Wei is just a teacher you adore, a symbol to cling to. But to me, he’s proof that someone can stand up for the weak. These are people, Lu Gao! How can you stand there and say they’re not ours to protect?”

Lu Gao inhaled sharply, forcing down the flames that threatened to erupt from his body. He had always seen himself as a practical man, not an idealist. What Yuen Fu demanded, the salvation of strangers in a land not their own, was the very thing Lu Gao feared would doom them. Yet hearing his own words, he realized bitterly that he was betraying everything Master Wei once represented.

“You are an idiot,” Lu Gao said at last, his tone sharp, though weariness hid beneath it. “You think you’ve saved them, but look around you. These children died because of you and your ignorance!” He stepped closer, pointing at the broken bodies strewn across the courtyard. “Didn’t you notice? There were bloody arrays carved into their skin. The moment their master felt threatened, the marks activated. Their life force was siphoned away and given to him!”

Yuen Fu froze, the sparks in his hair sputtering out as horror widened his eyes.

“This is your fault,” said Lu Gao with fury.

His voice cracked as he demanded, “And how do you know that?!”

Lu Gao’s expression hardened. The words rose out of him louder than he intended, edged with frustration. “Because they are slaves! Their master could do anything he wanted with them. This level of cruelty is common here in the Hollowed World. Slave or no slave, none of us could have stopped it. And this slaughter you’ve committed? It doesn’t change a thing. All you’ve done is erase a clan, their roots, their wealth, and their lands. Do you not understand? Some of those children could have endured long enough to realize their situation, scrape together coin to buy their freedom, maybe even stumble upon a sliver of hope with a fortuitous opportunity. No matter how ignorant they were of the truth, they had a chance. Now, you’ve taken that away.”

The words fell heavy in the smoke-laden air. Lu Gao could feel the weight of them as much as Yuen Fu did. The man’s jaw tightened, defiance flashing across his face, but the stubborn fire in his eyes was already flickering.

The clan they had destroyed had been small. Its nobleman had no backing, and no powerful patrons. Not a single true powerhouse had risen among them. It was a symptom of this continent itself, qi was thin, and cultivation growth was stunted. It was the perfect place for them to lie low, and now, that was lost too.  

 “So what do you want me to do?” Yuen Fu spat bitterly, lightning sparking faintly in his hair again. “Leave them alone?”

“Yes,” Lu Gao replied without hesitation. His tone was cold and final. “Because you are not the solution.”

The words crushed the last of Yuen Fu’s defiance. His shoulders slumped, sword arm growing heavy. With a long exhale, he sheathed his blade, the faint hum of lightning dissipating from his frame. For the first time, he looked lost, as though the fire that had driven him forward had burned out, leaving only ash behind.

A chuckle broke the silence. Jue Bu appeared above them, balanced arrogantly on the shattered roof beams. He grinned down at them with mocking ease. “We should go,” he said, voice smooth but edged with urgency. “Two Tenth Realm cultivators are on the way. They’re after me, most likely, but I won’t be able to fend them off while protecting the two of you. And with the mess you’ve made tonight…” His grin widened. “…I don’t think hiding is an option. We run.”

He tilted his head, as if amused by their sullen faces, and added with a smirk, “Man, what would the two of you do without me around?”

“Probably not running away from cultivators clearly more powerful than you or Yuen Fu. But since we’re already implicated with you, we have no choice but to deal with you the way we are now.”

Since that night, everything spiraled beyond repair. They had doubled their efforts to remain hidden, weaving across borders, taking desolate paths, and fighting only when absolutely necessary. Their true goal had never wavered, finding Da Wei, but the massacre of the noble’s estate had painted them in colors too dark to ignore. Word spread swiftly. Bounty hunters and self-styled heroes did not merely pursue them now; they hounded them with vengeance, their numbers swelling with every passing sun. For each step Lu Gao carved to keep them alive, three more blades seemed to lunge for their throats.

What had begun as fugitives on the run soon became something far more damning. By the whispers of the courts, by the proclamations of sect elders, they were no longer just outlaws… Instead, they were branded rebels and dissenters of the current world order. And though Lu Gao rejected the word with every fiber of his being, the string of blood-soaked events that followed left little room for denial. Each skirmish they survived was twisted into proof of sedition, each desperate stand turned into evidence of treachery. The noose around their necks tightened, until even breathing within this land felt like defiance.

Everyone was out to get them, from righteous factions and wicked factions alike.

The final fracture came in Northshire. Even in a world torn by wars and feuds, this country stood as an abomination. Its rulers governed not with law but with cruelty so vile it made Lu Gao question whether he lived in reality or some nightmare realm. In Northshire, every family was required to surrender one child to the state. If the child was talented, they were raised as loyal soldiers; if they were not, their bones were ground into alchemical stock. The poor were branded like cattle, their flesh marked with sigils that allowed nobles to drain their vitality during rituals of longevity. Entire villages were sometimes erased overnight, their corpses repurposed to fuel the cultivation of the ruling clans.

Even worse, the capital maintained a “pit of debts,” where slaves were forced to battle one another to amuse the highborn. The survivors were permitted to live another day, while the fallen were butchered, their remnants refined into strengthening tonics sold at market stalls as casually as bread. Mothers clutched their children in terror, not to protect them from enemies beyond the walls, but from their very rulers who viewed life as coin to be spent at whim.

The sheer depth of depravity gnawed at Lu Gao’s heart. Though he had seen the Hollowed World’s countless wars, the brutal pragmatism of sects, and the callous sacrifices demanded by kingdoms, nothing had prepared him for Northshire’s cruelty. He found himself questioning everything from his decisions, his pragmatism, even the meaning of survival itself.

Yet there was no time for reflection.

Presently, the trio crouched beneath the shadow of a crumbling stone bridge. The river ran sluggish and dark beneath them, carrying the stink of rot and ash. Above, patrols clattered by, their lanterns casting fractured light into the cracks of the bridge.

Jue Bu sat cross-legged on the damp earth beneath the bridge, a faint glow radiating from the Spirit Stone clasped between his hands. The light flickered, dimmed, then snuffed out entirely, leaving behind a dull husk. He tossed it aside with a grimace. “Do we still have some of these left?” he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

Lu Gao’s tone was flat. “No.”

A silence lingered before Yuen Fu spoke. “How are you holding up?”

Jue Bu cracked one eye open, his lips curling into a dry smile. “Bad. Very bad.” He coughed, spat blood into the shadows, and leaned back against the stone. “But seriously? How in the world is there a monster like that in this backwater corner of the Hollowed World? I’ve been through a lot, but that… that thing nearly broke me.”

Just a few days ago, they had attempted to assassinate the tyrant of Northshire, the very man responsible for the atrocities of this vile country. What seemed at first like an easy deception, a fool who cloaked himself in cruelty, had unraveled into nightmare. The tyrant had let them believe he was vulnerable, only to reveal strength that punched far above his supposed cultivation. Jue Bu, the strongest among them, had been beaten within an inch of his life, and they had been lucky to escape at all.

Jue Bu coughed again and grumbled, “There’s something wrong with that gorilla.”

Yuen Fu frowned, puzzled. “What even is a gorilla?”

“Some kind of animal,” Jue Bu replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“Well, he’s unusually big for a human,” Yuen Fu said.

“You mean fat,” Jue Bu muttered, shaking his head.

It had been nearly a month since they found themselves trapped in Northshire after running off from a pair of very powerful bounty hunters. Now, they were stuck in Northshire, their every attempt at escape thwarted by the shimmering dome that covered the sky. The invisible barrier warped their sense of direction, a labyrinth that mocked their efforts. No matter how far they traveled, they were forced back into the kingdom. They had robbed treasuries, taken hostages, even attempted to slay the tyrant himself, yet none of it had revealed the key to their entrapment. Their heists had only redistributed wealth, their hostages had chosen death over betrayal, and their clash with the tyrant had left Jue Bu hurt.

Now, huddled in shadows, their situation was dire.

Yuen Fu let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “It looks like we have no choice but to rely on this.” He held out a worn pamphlet.

Lu Gao plucked it from his hands and studied the inked caricature of the three of them, bold letters scrawled above: The Holy Trinity of Freedom. It was a ridiculous name, but one that had begun to circulate.

For the past month, they had ‘accidentally stoked the fires of rebellion in there antics to find a way out. Pamphlets distributed in alleys, speeches given in public squares, and sect branches openly challenged. Jue Bu’s arrogance had found a stage, Yuen Fu’s lightning had become a banner, and Lu Gao’s duels had carved their defiance into Northshire’s soil.

Since they were called rebels in the first place, they might as well embrace it.

Thus, began the rebellion kindled not for the people, but as a beacon for one man.

“I am sorry about everything,” Yuen Fu said suddenly. His voice wavered with sincerity. “I shouldn’t have escalated that night. My ignorance of this world cost those children their lives. I admit it. But tell me, are you sure this is the right answer? By interfering with this kingdom, aren’t we risking the lives of the common folk? Aren’t we no better than the tyrant?”

Jue Bu laughed, the sound coarse but amused. “Naïve. These people are tools, nothing more. The noise we make here isn’t for them… it’s for Da Wei. The Hollowed World is too vast. If we want him to find us, we have to shout loud enough to shake the heavens.”

His words struck true. For all his disdain, Jue Bu had pierced Lu Gao’s intent. Since they could not reach Da Wei, they would force Da Wei to reach for them. The rebellion was never about Northshire… Instead, it was a signal fire.

Lu Gao’s eyes hardened as he looked at Yuen Fu. “Yes. We are risking their lives for our benefit. But this way, they have a fighting chance. That’s enough.”