Immortal Paladin

I set the chessboard on the low table, its lacquered surface gleaming faintly under the lantern light. Da Ji leaned in eagerly, eyes wide with curiosity as she inspected the carved pieces from generals, soldiers, chariots, horses, and cannons. They were all arranged neatly in their opening positions. “So, how do we play this again?” she asked, tilting her head as if sizing up the tiny wooden army.

“You’ll pick it up fast,” I said, adopting the air of a seasoned strategist. “The goal is to corner my general. Everything else is expendable.” She nodded, clearly excited to try her hand at something new.

The first game lasted barely ten minutes. She moved her horse boldly into the center, only to have it trapped by my chariot. From there, I pressed my advantage and surrounded her general in short order. “Checkmate,” I said, grinning smugly as she pouted.

“That was unfair! You tricked me,” Da Ji protested.

“Strategy,” I corrected, setting the pieces for another round. “War isn’t fair.”

We played again. She tried to be more cautious this time, but her cannon was too exposed, and I snapped it up before she could use it effectively. The game dragged a little longer, but the result was the same: my general standing firm while hers was hemmed in.

By the third match, Da Ji’s brows had furrowed into a stormy knot. She slammed down a soldier with such force the board rattled. “This time I’ll win!” she declared. Her enthusiasm carried her far, and I had to actually think several moves ahead to keep her from boxing me in. Still, when I baited her into advancing her general too far, the board fell into my control. She gasped when I closed in for the final strike.

Another loss.

Her shoulders slumped, but I only chuckled and reset the pieces once more. We played round after round, the rhythm of clattering wood echoing through the room. Sometimes I crushed her easily, sometimes she forced me into narrow escapes, but no matter how the board unfolded, I found ways to outmaneuver her. Finally, after a long string of victories on my part, I leaned back smugly.

Da Ji’s lips quivered, her eyes glistening. “You’re cheating,” she accused, almost ready to burst into tears.

I raised my hands in mock innocence. “What? I’m just talented. You’ll get better… maybe in a decade or two.”

She let out an indignant huff, crossing her arms. “I don’t believe you.”

Before I could tease her further, a firm knock came at the door. “Honored guests,” a woman’s voice called, muffled through the wood. “I’ve arrived with a change of clothing, fitting for the feast.”

Da Ji sniffled, trying to hide her watery eyes, while I suppressed a laugh and began packing up the board. It seemed our entertainment for the afternoon had come to an end.

We didn’t waste time. The moment the servant’s footsteps faded down the corridor, I tore open the bundle of robes she had delivered. The fabric was soft, dyed in pale blues and whites, embroidered with clouds along the hems. Typical of Nineclouds’ theme, but the real issue was whether they were safe. I exchanged a look with Da Ji, then summoned quintessence and began weaving an exact copy of the clothing. Every thread, every shimmer of dye, and every fold of texture… I replicated it perfectly.

Da Ji followed my example, pursing her lips in concentration until her own copy shimmered into existence. Another part of me scolded me for being paranoid, but if the Heavenly Temple had taught me anything, it was that nothing came free of traps. The real garments I folded neatly and stashed in my Item Box. Better to keep them hidden than risk some hidden formation woven into the cloth.

Once dressed, Da Ji twirled once in front of the mirror, tugging on the sleeves. “Feels the same.”

“Because it is the same,” I muttered, adjusting my own collar. “Only safer. Remember, the devil is in the details, and I don’t mean metaphorically.”

We stepped to the door, where the servant waited with hands politely folded. I put on a genial smile, the kind of smile I reserved for playing the part of an old woman who supposedly spent more time meditating than plotting schemes. “We are ready,” I said smoothly. “Please, lead the way.”

The servant bowed, opened the corridor, and guided us through the winding halls of Nineclouds Palace. The further we walked, the richer the architecture became: soaring columns carved like rolling waves, murals of stars and constellations traced in gold leaf, and lanterns suspended in midair by faint arrays. The air itself carried a hum of power, the faint buzz of formations interlacing the entire inner palace like veins.

At last, the hall opened into a grand chamber. Rich silk banners hung from the ceiling, clouds embroidered in silver thread rippling with the draft. Tables laden with delicacies stretched across the space, and the fragrance of roasted meats and rare wines filled the air. The hall was already alive with chatter. Nobles, sect representatives, and cultivators of all ranks gathered in groups, their voices weaving together into a low hum of intrigue and politeness.

We had arrived at the feast of Nineclouds… and from the looks of it, we weren’t the only honored guests tonight.

Tian Luo rose from his elevated cloud seat with a flourish, his robe sleeves drifting like mist as he gestured toward the place beside him. “Come, honored guest, sit by my side.”

I obeyed, lowering myself onto the seat he indicated, while Da Ji quietly slipped to a lower cushion further down the table. A young master in bright silks leaned toward her with a curious grin, clearly too eager to spark conversation with a girl who looked far too elfin for her own good. I ignored him, focusing on Tian Luo.

The Lord of Nineclouds leaned in slightly. “Where is the other one? The… mercenary?”

I steepled my fingers and lowered my voice. “Ah, Du De. He is presently occupied with errands, bartering a few of my trinkets at the market, perhaps even the auction hall.”

Tian Luo chuckled, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have bothered. If you wished to trade, you need only speak, and I would gladly purchase them at a markup. Consider it the least I can offer as host.”

I smiled, feigning humility. “To abuse the generosity of my benefactor would shame me more than any loss of coin or spirit stones. I could never take advantage of such goodwill.”

He regarded me a moment longer, his gaze oddly soft. Then, almost absently, he said, “You… look prettier than usual.” His eyes flickered wide with realization, and he drew back, coughing into his sleeve. “Forgive me, I do not know why I said that.”

Internally, I sighed. I knew exactly why. That damn Charisma stat again, after so long! I almost forgot about it. Alice at least had the foresight to train stealth arts to mute hers, but me? I’d been stumbling through awkward encounters ever since recovering my Divine Spark. My stats had rebounded to their peak and were climbing further in a ratio I remembered all too well from my LLO days. That meant if I kept growing unchecked, I’d only become more… handsome. Handsome enough to make even an Eighth Realm lord say something foolish to a wrinkled old disguise. Wonderful.

I quickly smothered the thought and steered the conversation elsewhere. “In any case, Du De is not merely trading. He has a secondary duty, seeking signs of demonic activity. Protecting us is one thing, but demon hunting is his true vocation. If something unnatural lingers within your city, he will root it out.”

Tian Luo waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Your mercenary will not find any demons here. Nineclouds is the safest city within all of Skyhold, I daresay the Empire itself. I have overseen every bridge, every street, and every shadow. No foulness could hide under my rule.”

I let his boasting wash over me before steering the conversation. “Your surname intrigues me, Lord Tian. How closely are you tied to the Tian Clan of the Heavenly Temple?”

The smile faltered. A grimace tugged at his face before he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “How much do you know of the Seven Imperial Houses?”

I folded my hands together as if recalling a passage from scripture. “The Seven Houses serve as the foundation of the Empire. Lu, the Road, guiding paths of expansion. Kang, the Fighting Spirit, guardians of martial might. Xun, the Seeker, preservers of knowledge. Feng, the Wind, masters of mobility and commerce. Bai, the White, preservers of purity and order. Hei, the Black, rooted in secrecy and shadow. And finally, Tian, the Sky, said to serve as the very gaze of the heavens upon the Empire. Each house was granted dominion over a pillar, their combined efforts creating prosperity and stability for the Grand Ascension Empire.”

Tian Luo chuckled, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Ah, perception, truly a wonderful thing. But the truth is far more ugly and dirtier… Do you know? A thousand years ago, the Heavenly Temple sent forth a Tian disciple of rare brilliance. Charismatic, cunning, and trained in every art of seduction. She was to win over the Emperor’s heart, to place the Empire beneath the Temple’s thumb. And yet—” he spread his hands, amused, “—the fool fell in love with a commoner woman. Not the Emperor, not a nobleman, but a nameless girl of no clan or bloodline.”

His words struck a familiar chord, and I felt my breath still. A memory stirred, one I had plucked from Nongmin himself when I experienced his life through Divine Possession. I remembered his shameless grin as he toyed with the Heavenly Temple’s seers. They had gazed into his Heavenly Eye and seen visions of him marrying the Tian woman, every omen aligned with their schemes. Nongmin, ever the trickster, had carefully shown them exactly what they wanted to see.

But behind the stage he wove a different game. He set the Tian seductress on a blind date, a so-called ”chance meeting” with that commoner woman. Love bloomed where it was never meant to, and the Temple’s grand design collapsed. The frown of the Heavenly Temple had been deep, for not only had they lost their pawn, but the Emperor himself openly supported the match… even as same-sex unions were condemned in the Temple’s doctrines. Nongmin had cared nothing for their disapproval.

No, he had taken it further, parading the affair as a subtle strike. Their seers had been made fools of, their oracles turned against them. The Temple had been forced to adapt, retreating their influence and restructuring their hold. The fallout birthed the Imperial Sky Household as a compensatory pillar, ensuring the Tian line was bound tighter to the Empire than the Temple’s schemes ever intended.

Nongmin truly had been shameless, and clever. 

So why did I even bother asking such a gossipy question when I already knew the answer? It wasn’t because I was ignorant. It was because I wanted to weigh Tian Luo’s nature, to peel back the layers of his manner and see if his tongue revealed more than his pride would admit. He clearly enjoyed gossip, almost as though he fed on it, and that in itself could serve me well. A man who gossiped freely was also a man who might, in the right moment, spill the truths hidden beneath the Empire’s polished facade. From his tone earlier, I could already tell he bore little love for the Heavenly Temple. That was a useful crack in his armor.

Much of what I knew of the Seven Imperial Houses came not from idle reading but from Nongmin’s visions, those shards of truth I had glimpsed through Divine Possession. And though the Empire taught them as noble pillars, the reality was messier, each clan carved from conflict, coercion, or cunning bargains. The Hei, the Black Clan, rose from the ashes of the Abyss Clan’s destruction, their remnants splintering into the Shadow and the Black. The Bai, the White Clan, chose surrender when Nongmin swore to safeguard Evernight, offering them protection from chaos in return for loyalty. The Kang, the Fighting Clan, were forced into service after Nongmin personally challenged their patriarch and shattered him in combat so decisively that resistance became impossible.

The Lu, the Road Clan, thought themselves clever. They joined the Empire under the guise of cooperation, driven by greed for expanding their technology’s reach. But when their secret military schemes surfaced, schemes for a coup, they were swiftly humbled and bound tighter under imperial oversight. The Xun, the Seeker Clan, had to be coaxed through coercion. Nongmin dangled their most precious treasure, taken as spoils, and only with promises of its return did they bow their heads. The Feng, the Wind Clan, were forged in blood. After Nongmin annihilated every bandit faction within the Empire, those who survived gathered under a tribal leader. Defeated, he bent knee and offered land and wealth, exchanging brigand freedom for imperial legitimacy.

And finally, the Tian, the Sky Clan. Their roots were entwined with the Heavenly Temple, their fate shaped by schemes and seductions gone astray. Nongmin had turned their origins into a knot of embarrassment and political necessity, and from that knot grew the Imperial Sky Household, a pillar that owed its existence to the Emperor’s manipulation rather than the Temple’s design.

I remembered all of this vividly, each thread of history painted with Nongmin’s audacity. My readings in the Empire’s archives filled the details, but it was through Nongmin’s memories that the true heart of it all revealed itself.

Tian Luo shifted in his seat, his eyes lingering on me in a thoughtful way, perhaps measuring my presence as I measured his. Then, with a grin that was part test, part curiosity, he asked, “Old master, would you mind showing off your healing arts?”

I watched Tian Luo’s smile widen as if he’d rehearsed the moment a dozen times, then snapped his fingers and the spectacle began. Soldiers hauled a broken man into the hall, chains clanking, skin torn and smeared with dried blood; he staggered like a puppet on frayed strings, wearing nothing but tatters over his groin.

The crowd shifted, curiosity rippling through them, and my stomach tightened when Tian Luo announced the prisoner’s name. “The one that stands ebfore you is… Zhu Shin, the Iron Bull, former General of the Western Watch, and traitor of the Empire!”

Recognition made my jaw go cold. The man looked wrecked from the cuts showing bone here and there, pus and grime crusted on his skin, and his breathing ragged, but his eyes still burned with that old Iron Bull defiance. Even half-dead he carried the remnant of a warrior’s aura, the kind that made men follow him into hell.

Tian Luo didn’t let the moment breathe; he threw the accusation with theatrical venom. “Traitor, thief of imperial favor, schemer against the throne!” He paced, voice amplified by the hall, declaring that Zhu Shin had been caught prying into imperial secrets and reduced to this by his own crimes. The guards shoved the man forward as if he were an offering. Tian Luo wanted spectacle, and healers were rarities the city loved to parade. He wanted me to be the showpiece: heal the fallen, earn his gratitude, and let the court whisper my name in the same breath as his.

“Please,” said Tian Luo. “Old master, would you please heal this traitor, so that my reliable subordinate can continue there interrogation of him?”

“No need to tell me twice.”

I cast Blessed Regeneration first, letting golden threads of renewal snake across Zhu Shin’s skin, knitting torn flesh and stanching bleeding where the soldiers had missed. The hall hummed; some of the courtiers leaned forward like moths to a bright flame. Then I laid on Great Cure, pouring quintessence into him, forcing his dantian to reawaken enough to hold life.

The metal clamp over his mouth cracked and fell away as he screamed, coughing bile and fury. “Where is my sister, you dog? You swore she would be spared!” he spat, filled with anger. “If you’ve touched a single strand of her hair, Tian Luo, I’ll drag you to hell myself!”

The lord of Nineclouds only smirked, though the edges of his smile twitched. “So the Iron Bull still has a tongue. Remarkable, considering how stubbornly silent you’ve been. But threats? In my hall? Hah. Do you think yourself in command still?”

Zhu Shin spat a glob of blood onto the polished floor. “Better to be a corpse than lick boots like you. His Majesty, the Emperor, would never—” His jaw cracked as the guard captain wrenched it sideways, silencing him with brutal precision.

“Enough,” the captain growled, wiping blood from his fingers. “This dog does not deserve words.”

I clenched my teeth, the urge to blast the man with a spell simmering under my skin. My voice came steady, almost too calm. “Was that necessary? You asked me to heal him, yet you break what I mend before the ink dries. Do you want him alive, or do you prefer a corpse you can boast about?”

The captain’s eyes narrowed, but Tian Luo raised a hand, cutting him off. “Peace, Captain. The healer speaks true. Our guest has no stake in our justice.” Turning to me, Tian Luo added with a bright laugh, “Forgive the mess. Men of passion are hard to leash, even my most loyal.”

I knelt by Zhu Shin, whispered a Divine Word: Rest too softly for anyone else to catch, and let the light lull him into slumber. His breathing evened, the fury melting into unconsciousness. I rose, dusting my hands as if the work had been simple.

“He won’t die just yet,” I revealed. “But if you continue with your methods, he will die for sure.”

Tian Luo clapped sharply, forcing the crowd to follow. “Marvelous! Truly, the heavens favor us tonight. A healer who restores even the broken Iron Bull! Do you not see, honored guests, how Nineclouds thrives under heaven’s grace?”

Polite applause filled the chamber, but I caught more than one noble staring, not at Tian Luo, but at me. I forced a smile, though my gaze slid back to Tian Luo, cold and appraising.

“Lord Tian,” I said evenly, “next time, if you wish me to showcase my craft, I’d prefer a patient less… mutilated. Healers are not jesters for the court.”

The hall went uncomfortably quiet for a beat before Tian Luo broke it with laughter, though it rang hollow as he continued to boast me over his constituents. “Spoken with the fire of principle! You see, dear guests, such candor proves the healer’s worth. Truly, an admirable companion.”