Immortal Paladin

Mt. Qingshi stood serene beneath a sky painted with drifting clouds. The breeze carried the scent of pine and mountain flowers through the small pavilion perched near the summit. Anyone witnessing the scene would have thought it peaceful. Two men sat across from one another before an exquisite tea set, sharing tea while overlooking the vast landscape below.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

One of those men was the Supreme Heart, sovereign of the Greater Human Realm and an existence whose schemes had plagued me since the day I entered this ridiculous game. The other was me, Da Wei, Holy Emperor of the Hollowed World and, apparently, the latest victim of his increasingly bizarre obsession.

After heating the kettle with Searing Smite, I poured myself a cup. Steam rose lazily from the surface before I filled another cup and slid it toward Heart. While pouring, I discreetly infused the liquid with a thread of Divine Qi to make it heavy.

Heart accepted the cup without hesitation. He brought it beneath his nose, took a slow sniff, and immediately bared his teeth.

”Very cliché, you know that, right?”

”I was hoping it’d annoy you. Did it work?”

Heart tried to remove my Divine Qi, but it clung stubbornly to his cup.

Instead, the cup broke from Divine Smite and the tea spilled on him. He glared at me as he waved his hand, fixed the cup with traces of quintessence, and used qi telekinesis in a flashy manner to refill his tea from the kettle. Finally, he used his qi to heat the spilled liquid, until they were reduced to vapor.

”You could try harder,” mocked Heart. ”Or was that your best shot?”

The answer earned a chuckle from me. Heart took a sip. I followed suit a moment later. The tea tasted like water. Not surprisingly, since my Searing Smite had purified everything within it. That had been the entire point.

”How does the stale water taste?” I asked.

”I’ve had better,” Heart remarked calmly.

For several moments, neither of us spoke. The mountain breeze continued to whistle through the pavilion while distant birds flew across the horizon.

Finally, I set my cup down.

”Let’s cut to the chase. Why do you want me to bear your child?” I stared directly into his eyes. ”We’re both dudes. You know where I’m coming from, right? Moreover, I have a woman who’ll surely get jealous. Not to mention we’re enemies. I still haven’t forgotten the couple of times you’ve targeted me, you piece of shit.”

”Harsh.”

Heart looked more amused than offended.

”I mean, shouldn’t you worry about your subjects first?”

His gaze drifted somewhere beyond the mountain.

The tower.

Specifically, the two unfortunate children still trapped inside it.

The same children who had endured enough torment to make me question whether Heart possessed a conscience at all.

By now, they should have reached the next floor.

Without changing my expression, I extended my senses through the remnants of Divine Myriad Nebula I secretly scattered throughout the tower. Only microscopic traces of Divine Qi remained behind, invisible to ordinary perception.

They were enough.

”Summon: Holy Spirit.”

The words left my lips softly.

Far away, within the tower’s interior, particles of divine creation gathered together. From those scattered remnants emerged an Ezekiel.

Heart’s cup stopped halfway toward his mouth as his expression darkened.

”What did you do?”

”You know,” I began leisurely, ”throughout our little game, you’ve never once asserted direct control over the Tower itself. You manipulated circumstances. You nudged events. You arranged scenarios. Yet you never simply altered the rules and declared yourself the winner. At first, I thought you were being sporting. Then I realized something much more interesting. You can’t.”

The atmosphere in the pavilion grew noticeably heavier.

”You don’t possess absolute authority over the Tower.”

Heart remained silent.

I smiled.

”Your reaction just now confirmed it. What I did went against your expectations. If you truly controlled the Tower, you wouldn’t look like someone had just kicked your favorite dog.”

A vein twitched near his temple.

”Oh, don’t look so upset.” I spread my hands innocently. ”You’re on my turf, Heart. You can play your tricks all you want, but I can play mine too.”

For several seconds, neither of us moved. Then, surprisingly, Heart relaxed, the pressure vanishing as he took another sip from his cup as though nothing had happened.

”It seems you are far more wily than I thought.”

The compliment sounded hollow.

Coming from him, praise was often more dangerous than insults.

While maintaining the conversation, I activated my Ophanim. Vast streams of information flooded my perception as I examined the Hollowed World from top to bottom. Every continent, every kingdom, every significant fluctuation of energy unfolded before my senses.

Heart had arrived here in person, so the idea that he had done absolutely nothing was laughable. Yet after a thorough inspection, I found no abnormalities suddenly befalling the Hollowed World. Nothing at all. Somehow, the complete absence of anything amiss only made me even more suspicious.

”Let’s get back on track, shall we?” I asked. ”What exactly makes you think I should bear your child?”

Heart stared into the tea in his cup. For once, the usual smugness had faded from his expression, replaced instead by an oddly contemplative look.

”Tell me something, Da Wei.”

”Hm?”

”Have you ever noticed that all Supreme Beings are male?”

The question caught me off guard.

I frowned.

Heart continued before I could answer.

”Do you think that has a deeper meaning?”

”What are you getting at?”

”I don’t know,” Heart admitted after a pause. ”Perhaps there is. Perhaps there isn’t.”

His fingers traced the rim of the cup, while a strange glimmer appeared within his eyes.

”But the underlying idea is quite simple. The path beyond a Supreme Being has remained closed for countless ages. Every method has been attempted. Every possibility has been explored.  Yet there remains one avenue that has never truly been tested.”

I already disliked where this conversation was heading.

Heart smiled.

”Create a being capable of surpassing a Supreme Being.”

My eyelid twitched.

”No.”

”You haven’t even heard the rest.”

”I don’t need to.”

Heart ignored me completely.

”If ordinary cultivators can produce descendants with extraordinary talent, then the principle should scale upward. Two Supreme Beings possess authority, concepts, divinity, and power beyond all existence. So naturally, the hypothesis is obvious. A child born from two Supreme Beings may possess the potential to surpass both.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Heart delivered the conclusion with all the confidence of a scholar unveiling a groundbreaking discovery. Knowing him, there was a disturbingly high chance that he had spent millions of years seriously researching this nonsense.

It was exactly the kind of insanity I expected from a Supreme Being. In hindsight, perhaps I should not have been surprised. After all, millions upon millions of years tended to do strange things to people, and Supreme Heart had simply reached a stage where his madness had become sophisticated enough to masquerade as research.

I asked the most obvious question. ”Why don’t you do it with your friends?”

Heart nearly choked on his tea. ”My friends?”

”Yes. Your fellow Supreme Beings. Surely one of them is willing to indulge your insanity.”

”I totally could.”

”Then why don’t you?”

Heart pointed at the sky as though presenting an irrefutable truth.

”Because they’re all completely insane.”

I blinked, then blinked again. The hypocrisy was so immense that even Mt. Qingshi seemed to shake slightly beneath it.

Heart continued without the slightest hint of self-awareness.

”Void is a complete and utter lunatic I don’t want to associate with. Death is... well, dead. Taboo is a giant weirdo and a freak. The others aren’t much better.” He shook his head. ”I wouldn’t trust any of them with something this important.”

”But me?”

”Yes, you.”

I stared at him, and he stared back. Neither of us seemed willing to concede just how ridiculous this conversation had become. Finally, Heart sighed. “Because I know what kind of person you are.”

A bad feeling immediately rose within me as he leaned forward. “You’d love the child.”

I frowned. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice became surprisingly serious. “You’d love it with all your being.”

The pavilion fell quiet.

Heart tapped his finger against the table.

”You care too much, Da Wei. You care about your people. You care about your disciples. You care about random mortals you’ve never even met before. Half the systems you’ve built inside the Hollowed World revolve around helping others.”

I hated how accurate that sounded.

”You’re the sort of person who would sacrifice himself for a child.”

His gaze sharpened.

”That’s why consent matters.”

I immediately regretted allowing him to continue.

”If this is forced, then it won’t work.” Heart spread his hands. ”The child must be loved. Genuinely loved. Otherwise, the entire premise falls apart.”

”The power of love?” I asked dryly.

”The power of love.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, and then I looked him directly in the eyes.

”No.”

Heart waited.

I continued.

”No.”

His expression remained unchanged.

I leaned forward.

”No.”

Still nothing.

I decided subtlety was no longer necessary. I released my Divine Qi, letting it roll outward in invisible waves. The pavilion groaned, the mountain beneath us trembled slightly, clouds parted overhead, and even the wind seemed to hesitate.

Heart merely watched.

I stared at him, then laughed, because the sheer absurdity of his proposal had reached a point where laughter was easier than anger.

“You actually think I’d agree to that?” I cut him off before he could speak. “No. Let me explain exactly why that’s never happening.”

The pressure around me intensified as I pointed directly at him. “You talk about creating some child capable of surpassing Supreme Beings as though you’re discussing a simple cultivation experiment. As though they’re a grand solution to a problem you’ve been obsessing over for millions of years. But that’s exactly the problem. You don’t want a child. You want a result. A hypothesis. A possibility. A proof of concept. Maybe, a goddamn fucking weapon. Do you even hear yourself?”

I continued, my voice growing colder. “You want to bring a life into existence because you’re curious about what it might become. And let’s say your theory is right. Let’s say this child is born with absurd talent, stronger, smarter, more gifted than anyone else. Then what?”

The mountain breeze died completely. “They’d spend their entire existence being used. Every Supreme Being would see an opportunity or an enemy. Every faction would see a ’thing’ to be used. Every cultivator would see whatever they want to see. They wouldn’t be allowed to simply exist. They wouldn’t be allowed to fail. They wouldn’t be allowed to be ordinary.”

Heart’s gaze remained fixed on me, but I met it without hesitation. “You think being special is a blessing?” I laughed again, this time with no humor. “People fear what they don’t understand. So what happens when a child is born from two Supreme Beings? A miracle?” I shook my head. “No. A monster. A freak. An abomination.”

I looked away briefly toward the distant horizon. “They’d spend their entire life carrying expectations they never asked for. Judged before they could speak, before they could walk, before they could decide who they wanted to become. They’d inherit burdens, responsibilities, conflicts, wars, the ambitions of beings older than civilizations all dumped onto someone who never asked to be born.”

I exhaled slowly. “No fucking way. I refuse.”

My gaze hardened as I looked directly into Heart’s eyes. “Maybe that’s the difference between us. When I create something, I want it to live. Not serve. Not perform. Not fulfill some cosmic purpose. Just live. I don’t care how talented they are or how powerful they become. A life is a life. Not a tool, not an experiment, not a solution, and certainly not a sacrifice.”

The divine pressure around me settled. “So no. There is absolutely no universe where I voluntarily bring someone into this world just so they can spend eternity being used, scrutinized, feared, worshipped, manipulated, and crushed beneath expectations they never chose.”

I shook my head one final time. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Heart sighed. ”I expected resistance, but not this much.”

”You can take that proposal, roll it into a scroll, shove it up your ass, and then suck a fat one for all I care. But not mine. Find someone else, because I for sure ain’t sucking yours.”

”If you refuse,” said Heart calmly, ”perhaps I should simply release the Tower’s monsters entirely.”

”Try it. I dare you. Let me see if you have the balls. You let the Tower loose, and I’ll drop the False Earth directly into the middle of the Greater Human Realm. You know what kind of person I am. I’m definitely gonna do it, and I’m not gonna look back.”

Silence hung between us. Heart stared at me, and I stared back, neither of us blinking.

One thing I had learned while playing Snake & Ladders with this bastard was that he cared about humanity to an almost pathological degree, obsessively, unhealthily, and dangerously. Whenever I found opportunities between alternate realities, I spoke with him. Not because I liked him, but because understanding an enemy was often more valuable than understanding a friend. Every single time, he had been surprisingly open.

Heart was an asshole, a manipulative bastard, and a genuine piece of trash. Yet beneath all that lay someone who sincerely cared about humanity. The problem was that Supreme Beings rarely possessed normal definitions of sincerity. His love could be just as destructive as his hatred. That realization didn’t make him any easier to tolerate; if anything, it made him worse.

He remained my sworn enemy. Only Supreme Void ranked higher on my personal list of people I wanted to punch repeatedly. And that was saying something.

Eventually, Heart sighed as the hostility dissipated. ”What a shame.”

”I disagree.”

”Perhaps we can settle this another way.”

I immediately became suspicious.

”What way?”

”A contest.”

The moment he said those words, every instinct in my body screamed danger.

”No.”

Heart frowned.

”You haven’t heard it yet.”

”I don’t need to.”

”Da Wei—”

”If it’s anything like Snake & Ladders, I’d rather we skip the formalities and try killing each other.”

Heart blinked.

I pointed at him.

”I’m serious. At least then I’d know what kind of suffering to expect.”

The memory of that accursed board game still haunted me.

Heart looked mildly offended.

”It wasn’t that bad.”

”It was psychological warfare disguised as family entertainment. Besides, a fight between us would be disastrous. Even if one of us somehow won, we’d emerge vulnerable enough for the other Supreme Beings to descend like vultures. I suggest we just part ways from here.”

Heart nodded. in agreement, but the grin on his face remained. ”Very well. You decide.”

”What?”

”You choose the contest.”

”You’re letting me decide?”

”Why not?”

That alone made me suspicious enough to check several hundred futures. Unfortunately, I lacked the Divine Qi necessary to view an absolute outcome. Instead, I extended my Divine Phantasm of Dreams throughout the Hollowed World, connecting countless minds to my perception: wise rulers, cultivators, scholars, generals, philosophers, thinkers, and other individuals I had personally marked over the years.

The system was relatively new. Whenever I encountered someone whose wisdom impressed me, I offered them a choice, asking for permission to be consulted whenever circumstances demanded counsel. The arrangement was messy and imperfect, yet immensely valuable.

Among those voices was Nongmin, with others joining shortly afterward. Suggestions emerged from every direction, turning into arguments, counterarguments, and countless possibilities. The collective intelligence of the Hollowed World became a vast ocean of perspectives. After some deliberation, one particular idea stood above the rest.

I looked toward Heart. “I have a proposal.”

His grin widened. “Oh?”

“A tournament. Between our champions.”

For a moment, Heart simply stared at me. Then he burst into genuine laughter, the kind that rarely escaped him. “Hahahaha!”

I frowned. His reaction worried me.

Heart slapped the table, still laughing. “Excellent! Truly excellent.” He shook his head in admiration. “A tournament between champions. Simple. Elegant. Entertaining. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“I don’t recall asking,” I muttered.

He ignored me, eyes gleaming with excitement. “There should be restrictions, of course.”

“Such as?”

“Only cultivators at the beginning of Ascended Soul, someone with a single layer of immortality. The level of a Perfect Immortal, or roughly equivalent to a Demi-God. Strong enough to impress, yet weak enough that individual talent still matters.”

I considered it. It was reasonable.

Heart stood from his seat, his grin positively radiant. “Marvelous. Truly marvelous!” He pointed dramatically toward the horizon. “Warriors. Geniuses. Heroes. Champions carrying the hopes of entire worlds.”

I immediately suspected he was imagining something ridiculous.

“Da Wei, this may be the most entertaining idea you’ve ever had,” he declared, laughing once more. “I shall begin preparations immediately. And I look forward to watching every second of it.”

His enthusiasm only made me more uneasy.