Immortal Paladin

The heart of the Temple opened before me like a wound in the world.

At its center stood a towering spire, rising straight into the skies, its surface mottled with age and scars. Green vegetation coiled around its base and climbed along its sides, roots gripping stone as if afraid the spire might one day leave them behind. Scattered around it were strange statues from figures broken at the waist or neck, faces eroded smooth, or limbs shattered and reassembled incorrectly, as though someone had tried to remember gods from fragments and failed.

When I tilted my head back, I saw that the spire’s tip was malformed. Not worn by time, but broken. It was blunt and jagged, as if something had been torn away.

“Where is this?” I asked, my voice echoing faintly against the stone.

Wen Yuhan stood beside me, her sleeves stirring in the breeze that shouldn’t have existed indoors. “This is the Ascending Bridge.”

Hei Mao snorted. “Doesn’t look like a bridge.”

Wen Yuhan smiled faintly, neither amused nor offended. “Because it isn’t a bridge in the way mortals imagine one. It is a one-way path from the False Earth.”

I frowned. “A one-way path to where?”

“To here,” she said simply. “This spire is the same thing that allowed the souls of the Dragon God, the Repentant Listener, and the Martial God to descend into this world and reincarnate.”

The air felt heavier after she said that, as if the spire itself had acknowledged the truth of her words.

“Who made it?” I asked.

Wen Yuhan shook her head. “I don’t know. It has existed for a very long time, long before my era, and long before recorded history.” She paused, then added, “The statues, however, are newer.”

I glanced again at the broken figures scattered around us. “Those?”

“Yes. They came later,” she said. “Something a friend made. A gift.”

Gu Jie stepped forward then, her gaze fixed on the spire’s sealed entrance. “Wen Yuhan and I will seclude ourselves inside. We’ll search for a method for us to return to our original timeline.”

Wen Yuhan turned to me and cupped her fist respectfully. “I’ll leave my disciples in your care.”

I returned the gesture. “I’ll be waiting eagerly for results.”

Gu Jie looked at me, her expression unreadable, and then softened slightly. “Thank you… for trusting me.”

Without further words, the two of them walked toward the entrance. The giant gates groaned as they opened, swallowing their figures whole. When the doors closed, they sealed themselves from within, ancient formations lighting briefly before fading into silence.

I stood there long after the echoes died.

That was the last time I saw Wen Yuhan and Gu Jie.

Decades passed after that.

I never doubted Gu Jie, not once. So I focused on the only thing I could do.

Cultivate.

The Heart Path was divided into chambers: the right atrium, left atrium, right ventricle, and left ventricle. At this realm, the heart was no longer just an organ. It was observed both physically and spiritually, laid bare under one’s own perception.

To complete the realm, one had to pump qi into each chamber simultaneously, synchronizing the spiritual heartbeat with the physical one.

Back in Meng Po’s world, I had brute-forced this realm by cycling my Mana Road Cultivation like a madman, overwhelming the imbalance through sheer repetition. Now, I was finally doing it properly, using pure qi, guided by the Longevity Method Hei Mao had taught me back then.

Slow. Precise. Relentless.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was blood.

Two young men lay sprawled on the ground in front of me, breathing heavily, their clothes torn and faces swollen. One had a footprint clearly imprinted on his cheek.

Yuan Shen groaned. “Why is it… even with so much handicap… we end up like this?” He rolled onto his back and pointed weakly at me. “You didn’t even use one hand or opened your eyes the entire time!”

Quan Shou spat out blood and laughed bitterly. “Difference in realm,” he said. “What else could it be?”

“That makes no sense!” Yuan Shen snapped. “He was suppressing his strength!”

I stood up, dusting off my robes. “If you’re uncomfortable sparring with me,” I said calmly, “I can always call Hei Mao.”

The effect was immediate.

Both of them stiffened, and then scrambled upright despite their injuries. They dropped to their knees in unison and slammed their heads against the ground.

“Forgive us!” Yuan Shen shouted.

“We spoke without thinking!” Quan Shou added.

I watched them for a moment, and then shook my head slightly.

Before I could speak, footsteps approached. A dark-haired woman walked in, carrying a tray of dishes, steam curling gently into the air. She glanced at the two kowtowing figures, then at me, and smiled faintly.

“Senior Hei Mao has returned,” she said. “I just finished preparing lunch.”

She was Yuan Shun, Yuan Shen’s twin sister.

I always found it strange how this situation was even possible.

If Yuan Shen and Quan Shou had met me in the past, then logically speaking, shouldn’t they at least recognize me in the future? A face, a voice, or something. Yet there was nothing like that in the future. Was this some kind of paradox? Or did time simply not care enough to be consistent?

Then there was Yuan Shun.

She honestly didn’t seem like a bad kid. Calm, polite, and sharp-eyed. As a grown woman, I could already imagine her breaking more than a few hearts in the future, assuming the world didn’t collapse before then.

Lunch was set on a long wooden table outside the Temple, the surface rough and scorched in places from past fires. At the center was an enormous boar, roasted slowly over open flame until its skin crackled and glistened with fat. The scent alone was enough to stir even stagnant qi.

Everyone was present, except Wen Yuhan, Gu Jie, and Zhou Yong who had left for some personal business she refused to elaborate on.

We ate.

Hei Mao hovered nearby, arms crossed, staring at the food with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering. “Ghost,” he reminded us flatly when Yuan Shun tried to hand him a leg. “I don’t eat.”

Quan Shou and Yuan Shen, on the other hand, ate like pigs.

No. They were worse than pigs.

Grease smeared their faces as they tore into meat with both hands, bones cracking loudly between their teeth. It was hard to believe the two of them were already comfortably seated in the Third Realm, Will Reinforcement.

Yuan Shun sighed and set down her chopsticks. “There’s plenty for everyone,” she said. “You don’t need to fight the boar like it owes you money.”

I chewed my share slowly and glanced at Hei Mao. “How was it out there?”

He exhaled, his form rippling faintly. “Bad. Skirmishes between factions are becoming common. Everyone’s probing each other. Testing boundaries.”

“So war?” I asked.

“Rumor says it’ll escalate within a hundred years.”

I swallowed. “And us? Chances of getting dragged into it?”

Hei Mao shook his head. “Unlikely. But it would be better if we’re prepared.”

Quan Shou slammed his fist on the table, nearly flipping a platter. “Let the villains come! I’ll beat them senseless!”

Yuan Shen snorted, mouth still full. “You? Don’t make me laugh. A weakling like you wouldn’t even last a round.”

Quan Shou turned red. “Say that again!”

They began arguing, voices rising, and insults flying, yet neither of them stopped eating. Hands darted across the table, stealing meat directly off each other’s plates mid-argument.

I leaned back and watched.

There were a lot of things to consider.

Gu Jie and Wen Yuhan had left us with no particular instructions. Technically, we were free to do as we pleased like fuck causality and see what happened.

…Ahem.

I wasn’t so foolish. Still, it didn’t hurt to be proactive. That was why I sent Hei Mao out to feel the pulse of the world. As for me, I would continue cultivating, mind my own business, and protect the Temple.

Yet the guests we’d taken in decades ago still worried me.

I was already at the Fourth Chamber of the Heart Path, poised at the threshold of the next realm.

The argument escalated.

Quan Shou lunged across the table and punched Yuan Shen square in the jaw, knocking him off the bench. Yuan Shen retaliated by sweeping Quan Shou’s legs and stealing a massive slab of boar in the same motion.

“Give that back!”

“Over my dead body!”

Before either could escalate further, a sharp pressure descended between them.

Yuan Shun stepped forward.

Her qi flared not violently, but decisively. Sixth Realm. Essence Gathering. Clean, refined, and disturbingly stable. She wedged herself between the two men effortlessly, one hand on each of their shoulders.

“Enough,” she said coldly. “If you don’t behave, I’ll kick both of you in the nuts.”

Both froze.

Slowly, they sat back down.

Among the three of them, Yuan Shun’s growth was… unprecedented. It had been too quick. From experience, I’d learned that anything unnatural usually had a terrifying reason behind it. I’d been keeping a close eye on her, but so far, she was nothing more than a model student.

I turned to Hei Mao. “So. How did your visit really go?”

He winced.

“…The Eternal Undeath Cult found me,” he said. “They started worshipping me as their Overlord.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Didn’t I emphasize to you… to hide yourself?”

Hei Mao avoided my eyes. “It’s not my fault,” he muttered. “All the experts of the Eternal Undeath Cult have Abyss Sight.”

Quan Shou, Yuan Shen, and Yuan Shun had gone quiet. They leaned together slightly, heads close, whispering in hurried murmurs while their eyes kept darting toward Hei Mao. It was subtle, but not subtle enough.

“…Did you hear that?”

“…An Overlord…”

“…So that means he’s like… really big, right?”

I watched them out of the corner of my eye. These fellows really idolized Hei Mao. The reverence was almost painful to look at.

Hei Mao noticed too. His shoulders stiffened, and his expression twisted into something awkward. “Shouldn’t you be scared of me?” he asked, frowning. “If I’m from the Eternal Undeath Cult, I mean.”

Quan Shou waved his hand dismissively. “Why would we be?”

Yuan Shen nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. The two of you are time travelers. According to you, the Eternal Undeath Cult doesn’t even exist in your time.”

Yuan Shun added softly, “So as far as we’re concerned… you’re not a cultist at all.”

Hei Mao blinked.

Then he rubbed his nose, lips curling upward despite himself. He looked… smug.

Hei Mao hadn’t had many friends back in our timeline. Outside of his fellow disciples who were usually busy with their own paths, he’d lived a rather isolated existence. Because of that, he’d been surprisingly loose with his stories, sharing whatever crossed his mind.

The result was obvious.

The trio had begun looking at me differently too, though in my case, it was more fear than admiration. Meanwhile, their gazes toward Hei Mao sparkled with something close to worship.

Among my disciples, Ren Jingyi had probably been the closest thing Hei Mao had to a friend. Even then, the disciples were more like family than friends to him. Bonds of duty rather than choice.

Yuan Shen suddenly spoke up, brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t the Eternal Undeath Cult vanish in the future anyway? After their immortals ascend and the remaining members scatter?”

The irony of him saying that nearly made me choke.

Of course, Hei Mao had enough sense not to reveal anything like how Quan Shou would one day become a leader of the Ward, defending the Hollowed World, or how Yuan Shen himself would grow into a particularly nasty villain with a flair for being an absolute asshole.

Hei Mao merely nodded. “That… is indeed the case.”

But his expression was troubled.

Hei Mao had always been more forgiving than people expected. Unexpectedly so. After all, the person sitting in front of him was the very villain who had ruined his life in our timeline.

He once told me in confidence that he wouldn’t do anything he’d regret. Nothing as stupid as trying to change the future and accidentally destroying what little peace he had now. If anything, this was an opportunity.

An opportunity to know Yuan Shen before he became what he was destined to be.

We finished lunch not long after.

I enjoyed it, honestly. Half of a good meal was the company.

Quan Shou stretched and stood. “We’ll spar in the courtyard.”

Yuan Shen cracked his knuckles. “I’ll knock some sense into him.”

Yuan Shun smiled faintly and bowed toward us. “I’ll go check on the patient.”

Ru Qiu.

I still had no idea why the man remained unconscious. Yuan Shun and Zhou Yong had been delegated to look after him, though Zhou Yong had been absent for quite some time now.

I was about to follow Yuan Shun when Hei Mao spoke up. “Wait. I want to talk.”

I turned to him. “About what?”

He hesitated, then said, “I met Zhou Yong.”

That caught my attention. “And?”

“She told me she’d return immediately after dealing with matters back home.”

It had been two years since Zhou Yong left, summoned suddenly by the Four Seasons. His words didn’t sit right with me.

I studied Hei Mao’s face. He was nervous and restless.

“That’s not what you really want to talk about,” I said flatly. “Spill it.”

He sighed, looking away. Then he met my eyes again, expression firm despite the tension.

“I want your permission,” Hei Mao said. “To leave for some time.”

“For what?”

“I want to infiltrate the Eternal Undeath Cult.”

I looked at Hei Mao for a long moment before speaking.

“Why?” I asked. “Why infiltrate the Eternal Undeath Cult when you were just there?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his arms crossed, and gaze drifting as if replaying something only he could see. “I have a good feeling,” he said slowly, “that I can complete my Immortal Art there.”

I frowned.

“And,” he continued, “they’re not really bad people. Just… misunderstood. I want to understand them more.”

That made my brow knit tighter. “That’s vague,” I said. “And frankly strange. Explain it better than that.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that response.

“From the shadows,” Hei Mao said, “I didn’t see monsters. I saw a tight-knit community. They worship the life after death, not destruction. Their doctrines are about doing good deeds so they can have a peaceful afterlife. Helping the living so the dead may rest well.”

I stared at him. “Did you get brainwashed or something?”

Hei Mao grimaced. “I’d be disappointed if you really thought that.”

I faked a cough. “Right. My mistake.”

Silence stretched between us for a moment.

“I’ll say this,” I added. “If we don’t want to… fuck causality, this is probably not fine.” I shrugged. “But I’d still say, go ahead.”

Hei Mao froze.

“…What?”

He looked utterly confused, then thoughtful. “If I leave,” he said carefully, “the strongest one here will just be you. And you’re not exactly at peak shape.”

“I’ll just use Castling on you if it comes to it,” I replied casually.

His face twitched. “You remember the Heavenly Temple’s methods, right? Their barrier formations cut off Qi Speech. Even Castling. Even Egress. They isolate the target completely.”

I waved it off. “Different time period. The Heavenly Temple hasn’t even been created yet.”

He stared at me, clearly unsettled. “Why are you being so reckless?”

I tilted my head. “When have I not been reckless?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “This feels different. You’re someone who learns from his mistakes. Most of the time, whether you look like it or not, you put thought behind your actions.”

I smirked. “I feel flattered.”

“I’m not done,” he cut in. “You’re not the kind of reckless person who dives head-on into the unknown.”

I scratched my chin. “You sure about that?”

I met his eyes. “False Earth. Supreme Void.”

He stiffened.

“Everything that led there,” I continued, “was me jumping into the unknown. Did I know I’d land on the core of the Hollowed World when I thought about jumping into the sun? Did I think I stood a shit’s chance against the Supreme Void?”

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

Hei Mao snapped back immediately, voice sharp. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“You were reincarnated,” he said. “You were trapped in that world. You had no choice but to hurl yourself into the unknown.”

“It’s the same thing,” I said.

Hei Mao looked at me sharply.

“We’re already standing in the middle of a great unknown,” I continued. “Time travel. Causality. Reincarnations stacked on top of reincarnations. Just because the ground is unstable doesn’t mean we walk on eggshells every time we need to move.”

I stepped closer to him.

“We need to be careful,” I said, voice lower, steadier. “But not careful to the point we lose initiative. Hesitation kills more futures than recklessness ever did.”

I paused, then added flatly, “I already gave you permission. So what else is there for you to bitch about?”

Hei Mao opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging. “…Nothing.”

I wished I could tell him everything.

But some truths weren’t meant to be shared, not yet. Rifts formed easily between disciples, and once trust fractured, it never returned to its original shape. My intelligence stat would’ve been wasted on me if I hadn’t already noticed it.

Gu Jie had been keeping secrets from me.

As the wielder of the Destiny Seeking Eyes, she’d managed to hide it long enough that I only recently became certain of it. Whatever she was concealing was layered, deliberate, and protected by something beyond simple fate-obfuscation.

What was the secret?

I had no idea.

For now, Ru Qiu was my best chance at answers. But even that was a problem, since I didn’t know where to start, nor whether he’d even wake up willingly.

Hei Mao floated back, then stopped and bowed deeply. “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“Go,” I said.

I waited until his presence faded completely, and then I closed my eyes.

Qi and mana intertwined as I cycled the Mana Road Cultivation through the Longevity Method, my heart chambers resonating in unison. The rhythm tightened, compressed, and then expanded violently.

Something broke open.

When I exhaled, the world pressed back.

Ninth Realm.

World Path.

I sighed softly, feeling world force settle onto my limbs like invisible chains, another absurdly underutilized power I’d acquired by speedrunning cultivation realms instead of actually mastering them.

“I’ll deal with that later,” I muttered.

I walked toward the annex where Ru Qiu was kept.

At the entrance, Yuan Shun stood up immediately. “Senior.”

“Leave him to me,” I said.

She bowed respectfully. “I’ll be with my brother.”

I nodded and entered.

Ru Qiu lay motionless on the bed, his breathing shallow, steady. His face was hidden beneath a porcelain mask. Yuan Shun must have just finished wiping him down, his skin still carried the scent of clean water and herbs.

I sat beside him and stared.

Gu Jie’s warnings of Divine Possession echoed in my mind for me to not use it. But I couldn’t take it anymore. There was an attraction, fate pulling taut like a thread wrapped around my wrist. A temptation deeper than curiosity, and heavier than responsibility. This was pretty reckless even for me, but not so much that I didn’t think I couldn’t handle it.

I reached out and held his arm.

“Divine Possession,” I whispered.

And my existence sank into his.