Immortal Paladin

I had misunderstood what it meant to see the distance between cause and effect.

Calling it foresight had not been inaccurate, but it had been incomplete. What Ophanim granted me was not merely glimpses of what would happen. It allowed me to perceive the scaffolding behind events, the tension between intent and outcome, the subtle elasticity of inevitability.

And somehow, even with that, I had still underestimated it.

My intention when I sealed Conquest had been simple. Deter him. Remove him as a hindrance. Ensure he would forget us, forget the Hollowed World, forget the very motivation that would drive him to interfere. I had planned to yeet his identity into the void and gift him a neat little package of cosmic amnesia.

Apparently, I had forgotten something extremely inconvenient.

Free will.

Even a Horseman possessed that.

In the moment I imposed his own Dao Domain upon him, when his will was being pierced and rewritten, he had chosen something drastic. He had struck at the core of his own existence and forced a compromise. Rather than be conquered entirely, he had split along the thinnest possible seam of self-preservation.

Conquest had avoided erasure by the smallest imaginable margin.

What stood before me now was not entirely him.

But not entirely not him either.

“Just tell me what to do, O Supreme Bearer,” Pestilence said as she hugged my waist tighter.

I twitched.

She pressed her cheek against me with alarming enthusiasm. “I will serve faithfully. I will spread plagues only when you command it. I will restrain myself if you desire subtlety. Please allow me to remain by your side. If I am under your protection, my brothers will hesitate.”

I tried to push her face away with two fingers.

She leaned back in immediately.

“Your enemies will become my enemies,” she continued fervently. “If you permit it, I will devote my existence to your cause. I do not wish to be hunted. I do not wish to be erased. Let me work for you.”

She was far too clingy for someone who used to embody pestilential conquest.

When I had first realized what had happened, I did attempt to kill her. Decisively. Repeatedly. Conceptually.

It did not work.

She would dissolve, unravel, and then reconstitute a short distance away, slightly dizzy but otherwise intact, and resume pestering me as though nothing had occurred.

She was a real pestilence in my life.

Even the Ophanim trick that had broken Conquest’s psyche, the repeated suicidal charges layered with alternate realities and existential trauma, had failed to produce results. Whatever desperate maneuver he had pulled, he had reversed something fundamental. The arrogance, the oppressive will, the fear I had carved into him had vanished.

In its place was this… bizarre loyalty complex.

“I am only a watered-down version of Conquest,” Pestilence admitted at one point, lowering her voice. “If my brothers discover what I have become, they will target me. I am weaker now, diminished. I cannot stand against them alone.”

That was xtremely interesting.

But not here.

Not with an audience.

I grabbed her face with what I internally referred to as the vice grip of doom and held her at arm’s length. She dangled compliantly, blinking at me with unsettling approval.

“I still do not know what to do with you,” I told her flatly. “However, we can talk it out. This is not the right place.”

She raised a thumb enthusiastically.

“I approve, my lord.”

“Lord my ass,” I muttered. “I am not your lord.”

Only then did I turn to the trio who had witnessed the entire spectacle.

Hei Mao stood protectively in front of Hei Mei, shadows coiling around his small frame. Ox-Head held his axe at the ready, though his expression was more bewildered than hostile. Hei Mei peeked around her brother with open curiosity.

I cleared my throat, still holding Pestilence at arm’s length as she swayed slightly.

“Hei Mao, Ox-Head, and… Hei Mei, is it?” I said. “Nice to see all of you are doing well.”

This was not how I had imagined this reunion going.

Hei Mao cried out, “M-Master, I am sorry… I…”

I cut him off before he could spiral any further.

“There is no need,” I said firmly. “Buddy, you did great. You are alive. I am alive. Your fellow disciples are most likely alive. That is already a victory. Now, let us continue this conversation somewhere else.”

I summoned the Mighty Duck from my pocket dimension.

The overpowered xianxia paddle steamer manifested beside us with a dramatic shimmer, its polished hull gleaming under the starlight of the Greater Universe. Decorative paddles rotated lazily at its sides despite the absence of water, because physics had long since given up trying to make sense of my life.

I leaped onto the deck in one smooth motion and released Pestilence mid-air.

“I shall be your eyes, my lord!” she declared enthusiastically.

Before I could object, she vanished and reappeared in the crow’s nest, saluting dramatically.

Frankly, I did not trust this gal at all.

The Four Horsemen were clearly inspired by biblical archetypes, and Pestilence or Conquest symbolized False Peace. What were the chances that Conquest was still pulling some spy nonsense on me through this split persona. Perhaps I should have made a proper deal with him when I had the upper hand instead of attempting to seal him outright.

I had been greedy.

Sealing one of the Four Horsemen would have guaranteed one less enemy in the future. Instead, I now had a clingy former embodiment of plague perched on my boat volunteering for employment.

Hei Mao landed on the deck lightly and helped Hei Mei up after him. She looked so much like Yuan Shun that a faint ache tugged at my chest. It reminded me of my counterpart, of the version of me who had taken her in as a disciple and walked a path parallel yet separate from mine.

Hei Mao looked up at me anxiously.

“Master, what happened to the others?”

“If you mean the other disciples,” I answered honestly, “you are the first one I have found. It is a really long story, and our situation has more sides than we imagined. However, we have all the time in the world to talk about it.”

Ox-Head landed next.

The entire deck shook under his weight.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

He shifted into a more compact humanoid form, resembling a stern barbarian with heavy shoulders and sharp features. His battle axe disappeared into his pocket dimension.

“I met Horse-Face, by the way,” I informed him casually. “Still perky as ever.”

Ox-Head barked a laugh. “Hah! Good to know. I thought the poor horse had truly kicked it.”

I took hold of the wheel and activated the Mighty Duck’s warp state. Space folded around us as light streamed into elongated ribbons. The stars smeared into brilliant lines while the vessel cut through distance like a blade through silk.

When the warp ended, we drifted in open vacuum surrounded by twinkling stars and vast nebulous clouds painted in blues and violets.

“Summon: Holy Spirit,” I uttered.

Ezekiel manifested before me in a gentle blaze of radiance.

“Take over the wheel for me.”

He inclined his head and placed his hands upon the helm with serene competence.

I turned back to the trio.

“Now,” I said, “where should we start?”

I told them how the Hollowed World War had ended in overwhelming victory for our side. I explained that the battle between me and my counterpart had been so close that victor and loser became an indeterminate outcome. That indeterminacy had rippled outward, destabilizing the Heavenly Temple’s authority until all that remained was obedience beneath a unified banner.

“The Hollowed World is united under my name now,” I said quietly. “The world has begun shifting in a direction it has not seen in ages. Structures of power are reforming. Old dogmas are collapsing.”

Ox-Head frowned thoughtfully. “This counterpart of yours… I am still astonished. Time splitting into two? That borders on absurd.”

“It was not my doing originally,” I replied. “My predecessor wielded the Source before me. He split time, which split the Source itself into two parallel worlds. That is how my counterpart and I came to exist.”

I paused, considering the memory.

“My decision to let my counterpart consume me so that we could become one was another suicidal move,” I admitted. “Regardless of who won, the resulting existence would still have been us. We would have prioritized the same people. Even now, though I am the dominant personality, I can feel parts of him within me. His instincts. His impulses.”

I glanced briefly toward the crow’s nest where Pestilence stood vigil.

“The arrogant and overwhelming offensive against Conquest,” I added dryly, “was not entirely my own idea. Hah~! That’s another set of problems I want to postpone right now. I guess for now, just ignore the crazy woman. Okay? Well, I am sure you have a lot of questions. Feel free to ask me anything.”

Hei Mao absorbed all of this silently.

After a moment, he asked, “Master… where are we going?”

I rested my hand lightly on the railing and looked ahead into the sea of stars.

“We have already established a base of operations,” I said. “We will regroup there. From that point, we will decide what to do with the others and plan our next move.”

Hei Mao stood near the railing for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts. The starlight reflected faintly in his eyes before he finally spoke.

“Master… when I woke up, I was already here. In this realm.”

His voice was steadier now, though I could hear the remnants of confusion buried underneath.

“I did not remember the exact moment of dying. I just… opened my eyes. Everything felt wrong. The air, the sky, even the powers around me were different. I wandered for a while, trying to stay hidden. I thought if I gathered information first, I could figure out a way back.”

He glanced at Ox-Head and gave a small nod.

“Eventually, I ran into him. Well… more like I nearly got caught snooping and he caught me first.”

Ox-Head snorted. “You were terrible at hiding for someone who specializes in shadows. Your shadow was too big.”

“I was emotionally compromised,” Hei Mao muttered defensively before continuing. “After that, we traveled together. I kept feeling… uneasy. Like something was pulling at me. Then one day, there was a procession. Guards everywhere. They were boasting about some mysterious woman War had taken interest in.”

His jaw tightened.

“They said she was a recently perished soul who wandered into the Underworld. When I saw her face, I knew. It was my sister.”

Hei Mei, who had been quietly clutching his sleeve, blinked at the attention.

Hei Mao gently nudged her forward.

“Master,” he said softly, “this is Hei Mei.”

She peeked at me from behind him.

Physically, she looked like Yuan Shun. The resemblance was so precise that for a split second, my mind overlaid old memories onto her form. However, her eyes were different. They were softer and unburdened.

“H-hello…” she said shyly, her voice carrying a childish lilt that clashed completely with her adult appearance. “Big Brother’s Master… um… nice to meet you.”

She sidled closer to Hei Mao as if using him as a shield.

I offered her a small, reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you too, Hei Mei,” I replied. “I have heard a lot about you.”

She brightened slightly at that.

Before the atmosphere could settle into something wholesome, a dramatic gust of wind swept across the deck.

Pestilence descended from the crow’s nest as though she were making an entrance on stage. She landed lightly and placed a hand over her heart.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” she declared flamboyantly. “I am Pestilence, the most loyal companion of Da Wei. One day, I shall win his heart and stand supreme beside him among the stars!”

There was a brief silence.

Hei Mao stared.

Ox-Head blinked slowly.

Hei Mei tilted her head in confusion.

I did not.

I stepped forward and punched Pestilence square in the face with a War Smite.

The impact detonated with a concussive burst of force. She shot off the Mighty Duck like a comet, vanishing into the distant void in a shrinking speck of white.

I brushed off my sleeve.

“You can ignore her,” I said calmly. “She is going through something.”

Ezekiel did not even look back from the wheel.

Somewhere in the distance, a faint voice echoed through space.

“I will return, my lord!”

It did not take long for us to return to our base of operations.

As the Mighty Duck descended, I looked down at what used to be ruins and felt a flicker of surprise.

“They are working quite fast,” I muttered.

A budding city had already begun to take shape. What once had been shattered stone and drifting debris was now structured streets, rising towers, and formations etched into the ground to stabilize the surrounding laws. Spiritual lights glowed at key nodes, forming a protective lattice around the settlement.

I had enjoyed a brief stretch of peace and quiet after punching Pestilence into the vacuum. She would surely come back, but I would take what I could get. With Conquest’s hostility practically erased, I was confident she would not attempt anything too reckless.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

As we disembarked, Gue Jie appeared before us.

“Father, you have returned,” she said calmly. “Mother has been rather busy, but I will inform her that you are back.”

“She is with David and Joan right now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Even as we spoke, I activated Ophanim subtly.

The Gu Jie standing before me was a clone.

Not an ordinary clone, but a destiny-clone. The threads of causality anchoring her existence were stable, almost independent. I had seen a similar technique when she showed my Ghost Soul that recorded world of the past.

“Impressive,” I said. “But how are you doing something like this? Your cultivation realm should not permit such a manifestation.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I believe my eyes are of the same level as yours, Father,” she replied. “I have been researching powers beyond Immortal Arts recently. I have not found a clear path yet, but I suspect the answer lies in that direction. I will inform you the moment I uncover anything concrete.”

Hei Mao suddenly leaned forward.

“Big Sis Gu Jie, is that really you?”

She looked at him with her usual deadpan expression.

“It is a long story.”

When her gaze shifted toward Hei Mei, however, something changed.

Hei Mei trembled instinctively, shrinking closer to Hei Mao.

I followed Gu Jie’s line of sight and then froze.

There, in the center of the budding city, stood an enormous statue.

Of me.

It was easily several dozen meters tall, carved with meticulous detail. My robes flowed dramatically, one hand extended as if guiding the masses toward enlightenment. There was even a faint golden glow emanating from it.

I stared.

“What is that about?” I asked slowly.

Gu Jie hesitated.

“It is also… a long story.”

“Just tell me.”

She folded her hands behind her back.

“It was primarily Ru Qiu’s effort,” she explained. “You gain power from faith. The Underworld suffers from a significant lack of management and spiritual direction. When he realized this, he began organizing the wandering souls. It turns out that religious structure attaches easily to the dead. They crave order and purpose.”

I blinked.

Ru Qiu used to run a cult.

Of course he did this efficiently.

I distinctly remembered asking him once to help spread the faith, and he had flatly refused. Now I was staring at a literal statue of myself in the middle of a growing city.

Was he some kind of yandere?

Still, it was baffling how much he had accomplished in such a short time. I did not recall authorizing monumental self-idolatry.

In the distance, I spotted Horse-Face.

He was being surrounded.

A group of wandering souls knelt before him, reverently praying. Some even offered incense-like wisps of spiritual energy.

Horse-Face looked utterly flustered.

“No, no, please disperse,” he insisted, waving his hands awkwardly. “I am merely performing my duties. There is no need for offerings. Please stop bowing.”

Ox-Head crossed his arms and chuckled.

“Well, my co-worker and I are somewhat poster children in the Underworld,” he said. “It seems some of the dead still recognize our authority.”

Before I could comment further, Ru Qiu appeared, stepping forward with composed elegance.

An old man followed behind him.

“Oh,” I said, eyeing the newcomer. “Who is the old man?”

Ru Qiu inclined his head slightly.

“I only found the opportunity now to introduce him. He was one of the Heavenly Demons who inherited my cult. Although the cult’s existence was erased by the Eternal Undeath Sect and my eventual demise, fragments persisted in the Hollowed World and even here in the Underworld.”

The old man stepped forward and cupped his fist respectfully.

“The name is Wei Bao,” he said. “The Seventh Heavenly Demon of the Heavenly Divine Cult.”

Ru Qiu continued, “I hope you do not mind. I brought along familiar faces I found wandering. Word spread, and surviving members of my former cult gathered here.”

Wei Bao suddenly spoke up, cutting across his ancestor.

“Apologies, my lord,” he addressed Ru Qiu. “I believe it is prudent to clarify something. Why must we be subservient to this personage? The loyalty of the cult is forever yours, but—”

“Watch your mouth,” Ru Qiu said softly.

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

“I do not acknowledge you as my successor, nor any of your lot,” he continued coldly. “The title of Heavenly Demon is not inheritable. The mere fact that the home I created was defiled by the ignorant actions of my disciples and followers is already enough to warrant your deaths. Hmph. It appears I overestimated your value. Should I simply kill you?”

Wei Bao stiffened.

The surrounding air grew heavy.

I raised a hand lightly.

“It is fine,” I said. “Let him speak as he pleases. I am willing to listen.”

It was frankly an unexpected and welcome development.

When I came to the Greater Universe, I had done so under the assumption that I had no real allies here. The Hollowed World was far behind us. Everything ahead was foreign, vast, and indifferent.

If someone like this old man truly existed here, a former immortal from our world who had survived the transition, then perhaps our footing was better than I initially imagined.

Of course, that did not mean I would accept him blindly.

Wei Bao began in a measured tone.

“I mean no disrespect. However, the Greater Universe is a dangerous place, far wider and grander than the Hollowed World. My long experience will prove valuable to the cult. The layers of immortality I have accumulated should be enough to discourage unwanted attention. Not to mention, my lord, the Heavenly Demon possesses an Immortal Art capable of cowing any challengers who dare cross us.”

He was not lying.

Through Ophanim, I could see the stacked frameworks of his existence. Multiple layers of immortality interwoven carefully. By level standards, he was in the upper seventies.

Respectable.

Ru Qiu, however, had developed a very sour look.

It did not take divine insight to interpret Wei Bao’s subtext.

You are a frog in a well. Let me, the elder with more experience and power, take the helm so the cult may prosper.

It was particularly grating that he kept calling it our cult.

I foresaw Ru Qiu killing him within the next three breaths.

“Calm down, Ru Qiu,” I said lightly. “Do not interrupt him. It is about to get funny.”

Wei Bao blinked. “Excuse me?”

Killing intent spiked.

Hei Mao’s shadow twisted unnaturally behind him. Ox-Head’s presence grew heavy and oppressive.

Horse-Face appeared by the railing, arms folded.

“You fool,” he said flatly. “You do not even possess an Immortal Art, yet you are this arrogant? In my heyday, you would be paste within a second. You are fortunate Da Wei has a soft side.”

Wei Bao stiffened, offended.

“I do not believe this concerns someone of your stature, Lord Horse-Face. If I recall correctly, you are here on asylum.”

Horse-Face guffawed. “Da Wei, let me kill this fool already.”

“Master, let me hit him,” Hei Mao said.

“Do not,” Gu Jie interjected calmly. “He will die. He does not have an Immortal Art.”

Ox-Head scoffed. “And he is this arrogant?”

Ru Qiu exhaled slowly. “I apologize. It seems I have been lax on my… recruitment.”

That was rather uncharacteristic of Ru Qiu to apologize of all things. Wei Bao, now visibly realizing he might have miscalculated catastrophically, swallowed. “My lord… what is the meaning of this?”

Horse-Face shook his head. “You just got on everyone’s list at the worst possible time and in the worst possible manner.”

“Yeah, yeah, he should get wrecked or something,” a feminine voice chimed in cheerfully.

Pestilence appeared behind me without warning, her hands resting on my shoulders.

“My lord, as your loyal servant, I recommend we make an example out of him.”

So my suspicion was correct. Rulers of Laws could create brief blind spots in Ophanim. It was short and fleeting, but dangerous. I hadn’t expected Pestilence to appear so suddenly like that.

Before I could respond, Wei Bao suddenly dropped to his knees.

He began coughing violently.

Red flowers bloomed across his skin.

His immortality layers flared instinctively, but the affliction bypassed them, attacking the conceptual seams of his existence.

“This is not funny anymore,” I said flatly. “Pestilence. Stop.”

She snapped her fingers.

The flowers withered instantly.

Wei Bao collapsed forward, gasping for breath, trembling.

“Impossible…” he rasped. “Y-you are Conquest… Your appearance has changed, but I cannot be mistaken…”

Pestilence pouted and leaned against me in a half-hug.

“Oh, come on. Please call me Pestilence, loyal servant of Lord Wei—”

Starshroud apparently had enough.

A Cursed Bolt erupted from my robes and struck Pestilence squarely in the torso, sending her flying off the Mighty Duck once more.

I did not even look back.

Instead, I squatted down until I was eye-level with Wei Bao.

“Engrave this lesson into your bones,” I said quietly.

I combined Ophanim with Divine Possession and projected an alternate reality directly into his perception.

In that reality, I killed him. I erased him layer by layer. Mortal death. Immortal death. Conceptual death. His accumulated insights unraveled like thread. His Dao collapsed. His identity fragmented into irrelevance.

I only showed it once.

That was enough.

His face drained of color instantly.

He understood.

“What do you think?” I asked calmly. “Illusion? Reality?”

Wei Bao’s lips trembled.

“I… I submit.”

Good.

I stood and brushed imaginary dust off my robes.

“Here is how this works,” I said evenly. “You are now one of ours, as long as you follow my rules. You do not posture. You do not undermine. You do not mistake seniority for authority. If you bring value, you will be respected. If you cause problems, I will remove you.”

I looked down at him once more.

“As long as you understand that, we are cool.”

Wei Bao bowed his head deeply.

“I understand, my lord.”

Around us, the tension slowly dissipated.

Somewhere in the distant void, I heard Pestilence shouting.

“I am still loyal!”