Immortal Paladin

[POV: Da Wei]

The Supreme Void’s presence soon vanished, presumably taking the fight somewhere else. The first floor was a precious asset to him, after all. It was where most fresh climbers were tested and trained, and he couldn’t afford to let the entire place become collateral damage.

We regrouped at a safehouse situated between the desert and an abandoned town. Everyone was there: Nongmin, Tao Long, Hei Mei, Hei Mao, N’wa, Ru Qiu, and me.

“Remember, the path leading to the next floor won’t open until the storyline is complete,” Nongmin explained. “Fortunately, the team I’ve hired will take care of all the quest objectives. Our job is to stay here and avoid complicating things. The less attention we attract, the better. We don’t want the Supreme Void’s moderators scrutinizing us.”

He paused to let that sink in before continuing.

“I’ve prepared a group of fixers to carry us through each floor. They’ll handle the necessary work while we keep out of sight. Ideally, you shouldn’t even know one another’s names. I strongly advise everyone to keep their distance and avoid interfering with their operation.”

The group Nongmin had hired consisted of four climbers, each of whom looked like an ordinary civilian one might encounter on the street. They didn’t have the imposing appearances or extravagant equipment I’d come to associate with powerful cultivators. At first glance, they could have been a group of people going about their daily lives.

It was strange hearing Nongmin use modern or gaming terminology such as carry, moderators, and quest objectives. The Tower was incredibly inconsistent in how it presented itself. I could only blame the Supreme Void for that. At least the opposite side of the Tower offered a stronger sense of immersion, as though we were genuinely exploring another world rather than participating in an elaborate game.

Ru Qiu glanced at the four climbers and frowned. “These are the people we’re relying on? They’re too weak. Are you sure they can even complete the storyline?”

His blunt assessment didn’t sit well with them. The four climbers exchanged displeased looks, and one of them opened his mouth as though he intended to argue.

“We need these climbers,” I reminded Ru Qiu. “Just because the Supreme Void is occupied elsewhere doesn’t mean we’re safe from his scrutiny. Besides, the best way to travel between floors is to be carried by climbers of the appropriate level. We can’t simply force our way through everything.”

At present, Divine Phantasm of Dreams concealed us within the safehouse, making us effectively invisible to anyone observing the storyline from the outside. I knew the technique worked because I’d tested it myself, and my Tower Master class had helped me understand how the floor’s systems operated. However, that didn’t mean we could afford to be careless. If we disrupted the storyline too much, we might attract attention regardless of our concealment.

“Ru Qiu, take it easy on the young ones,” Tao Long advised. “They’re doing us a favor.”

The climbers didn’t appreciate his support any more than they’d appreciated Ru Qiu’s criticism. One of them snapped back at Tao Long, prompting the others to voice their displeasure.

Nongmin raised his voice.

“Enough! All of you, stop!”

The room fell silent.

Of course, I could understand why the climbers reacted that way. They might have been experienced hands on this floor, but they were still mortals shaped by their upbringing and circumstances. They weren’t accustomed to dealing with people who could casually dismiss their abilities, much less those who could crush them without a second thought.

Nongmin turned toward the four climbers.

“Please, carry on with your work. You’ll receive the remainder of your payment once the job is complete.”

The four exchanged glances before reluctantly accepting his words. They soon returned to discussing the storyline and the objectives they needed to accomplish.

”We’ll be on our way,” said the older man among the climbers, clearly the leader of the group.

”Take care,” said Nongmin, and they walked out of the building.

From what I’d gathered, this particular storyline revolved around hunting for treasure in the desert. It included the usual assortment of traps, gruesome discoveries, and monsters lurking in the wilderness. There were several storylines that could lead us to the next floor, but Nongmin had selected this one because it was relatively safe. The number of participants was low, and the isolated setting made it easier for us to avoid unwanted attention.

“We have time to kill, so what now?” Tao Long asked.

“Can you get her off me?” Hei Mao pleaded.

The little boy was currently trapped in Hei Mei’s embrace. The usually elegant woman had transformed into an overenthusiastic big sister who’d apparently spent years yearning for a little brother to cuddle.

I couldn’t help staring at the sight.

“How did it go?” I asked.

“The widdle adowable Mao Mao is pwimed and weady!” Hei Mei declared, squeezing him a little tighter. “Just give me the word, and you’ll have your god in a pocket.”

“Don’t call me that!” Hei Mao cried.

“So adowable~!”

I decided not to intervene. Hei Mei looked far too pleased with herself, and I wasn’t convinced that trying to rescue Hei Mao would accomplish anything other than making her cling to him even harder.

Tao Long found a television and busied himself watching a commercial for a resort. Ru Qiu settled into a corner with a magazine, apparently interested in the latest men’s fashion. Meanwhile, Nongmin and N’wa sat together at the table, discussing something in low voices.

A brief source reminder: the author publishes this chapter at , and this copy was not made with permission.

Eventually, Nongmin gestured for me to join them. I walked over and took a seat.

“So, what’s up?” I asked.

“I’m staying,” N’wa said.

I looked at her, then at Nongmin.

Nongmin nodded. “I’m handing the organization I’ve established on this floor over to her. It would be a waste to abandon everything we’ve built here, and N’wa is in a good position to take over. Through her, we should be able to maintain our support network, including our logistical resources and sources of information.”

That was surprisingly generous of him, and decidedly unlike the Nongmin I knew. He was placing an enormous amount of trust in N’wa by handing over an organization he’d spent so much effort building. Still, I could understand his reasoning. We couldn’t exactly bring the entire first floor with us as we climbed higher. Leaving behind everything we’d established would be a waste, especially when we might need its resources in the future.

N’wa met my gaze.

“I want to maintain a connection with the False Earth and do whatever I can to make things right. I know it won’t happen overnight. It might take a very long time before I can accomplish anything meaningful, but I want to try.”

She lowered her eyes briefly before continuing.

“The past few decades have been difficult for me. I’ve had to confront things I’d rather have left buried, and learning about my past life hasn’t made the process any easier. But I’ve grown stronger, and I’ve gained a different perspective on the world. I understand things now that I couldn’t have understood before.”

She looked back at me.

“Thank you for being patient with me, and for allowing me to see my past life. I don’t know where this path will lead, but I want to see it through.”

I nodded. There wasn’t much more to say. If N’wa had made up her mind, I wasn’t going to stand in her way.

Besides, having another potential thorn in the Supreme Void’s side was a significant victory for us. I was glad I’d brought N’wa along. The False Earth was an enormous problem, and I still had no idea where to begin addressing it. Yet N’wa represented a genuine breakthrough. If I could help her reclaim her past and convince her to stand against the Supreme Void, what was stopping me from doing the same for other Ancient Souls trapped in the False Earth?

Of course, that was a problem for the future. I still had the Tower to deal with, followed by the Hollowed World. I couldn’t afford to lose sight of those immediate priorities just because I’d found a possible solution to a much larger problem.

“I’ll provide whatever support I can,” I told N’wa. “We’ll need to discuss the details properly, of course, but you won’t have to handle everything alone.”

She smiled and nodded.

According to Ding Cai, a path had opened from the Tower on the Hollowed World side. She had no idea what had caused it, and neither did I. Unless I saw the passage for myself, I couldn’t determine whether it was a natural development or the result of someone’s interference.

For now, all I could do was keep that information in mind.

“Here,” N’wa said.

She reached into her belongings and took out an object wrapped in linen.

“I found this in one of the Slayer Order’s conclaves. I believe it belongs to you.”

I accepted the bundle and carefully peeled away the linen. What lay inside surprised me.

It was a spoke from a wheel.

The wooden object was about the length of my arm, plain and unremarkable in appearance. Anyone who stumbled across it might have mistaken it for a discarded piece of furniture. Yet the moment I examined it through Ophanim, I realized that it was anything but ordinary.

This had once been part of the Wheel of Reincarnation.

When the Supreme Heart transformed the Wheel into the Tower, he’d dismantled its original structure. The spokes had been scattered throughout the Tower, and each one represented a portion of the authority governing it.

That explained a great deal.

I’d assumed my inability to exercise complete control over the Tower was a consequence of the flawed process through which I’d acquired ownership. After all, the Supreme Heart had practically forced the Tower upon me. I’d never been given the opportunity to take possession of it under normal circumstances, so it had seemed reasonable to assume that something had gone wrong.

But the truth was much simpler.

My authority over the Tower was incomplete because I didn’t possess all the pieces necessary to exercise it.

As Ophanim revealed the spoke’s history, I discovered something even more surprising. This particular piece had belonged to the Great Sage.

When he’d been sealed away, the Great Sage had hidden the spoke. Eventually, members of the Slayer Order discovered it, apparently without understanding what they’d found. They’d kept it among their possessions until N’wa came across it and recognized that it might be important enough to bring to me.

What were the odds?

I’d gone to all that trouble to find the Great Sage, only to discover that one of the missing pieces of the Tower’s authority had already been hiding in the hands of someone traveling with me.

It was sheer luck that the spoke had found its way back to me through N’wa. More importantly, its connection to the Great Sage meant that our encounter might have yielded something far more valuable than I’d initially anticipated.

“Thanks. Really,” I said, examining the spoke closely.

Each spoke represented one of the Six Paths of Reincarnation. As I connected the pieces of information I’d gathered, I began to suspect that these objects were tied to the selection of the Tower’s Floor Masters. I would have bet good money that each Floor Master possessed a spoke of their own, though that raised an obvious question.

Where was the sixth one?

The Tower had a hundred floors, divided into five groups of twenty, each presided over by a Floor Master. If the spokes were connected to the Six Paths of Reincarnation and the Floor Masters, then what had happened to the remaining spoke?

I examined the wooden object more carefully, and Ophanim revealed its identity.

It was the Asura Spoke, corresponding to the Asura Path among the Six Paths of Reincarnation. That suited the Great Sage rather well. Although he’d originated from the Animal Path, his temperament was far more fitting for an asura. His violent disposition, combative nature, and boundless pride certainly made him seem like a better match for that path.

If my theory was correct, the other spokes probably followed similar themes.

It seemed we’d acquired another objective to pursue. The problem was that the spoke carried an exceptionally heavy Weight of Existence. That explained why I hadn’t detected it through Ophanim before N’wa brought it to me. Its existence was too significant to be casually observed, even with my Origin Art.

I suspected the Supreme Void possessed one of the spokes as well. If so, recovering all of them would be considerably more difficult than I’d hoped.

And that was another problem for the future.

It would probably take some time before the current storyline was completed. We’d have to repeat this process on every floor, relying on other climbers to finish their objectives while we kept ourselves out of sight. I could already imagine how tedious the journey would become if we had to endure the same routine a hundred times.

Still, this was probably for the best. We needed to avoid drawing the Supreme Void’s attention while making our way through the Tower, and letting others handle the storylines was the safest option available to us.

I only wished I’d found a better opportunity to bring up the matter I needed to discuss with Nongmin.

“We need to talk,” I said.

Everyone in the room froze, almost like they were stuck in time. I was using Ophanim to talk with Nongmin inside his head.

Nongmin frowned, looking at me with confusion. “What is it?”

“It’s part of my brilliant plan to escape the Tower as quickly as possible.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “The greatest obstacle standing between us and the Hollowed World is undoubtedly the Supreme Void. However, I’m not going to talk about him right now. Instead, I want to ask you something, Nongmin.”

I looked him straight in the eye.

“How willing are you to let the Yellow Emperor die?”

Nongmin’s expression changed.

“He’s a stranger to me,” he answered after a moment. “The Supreme Heart? The Yellow Emperor? It makes no difference to me. Why bring him up now, when we’ve already lost him?”

“Because we can bring him here.”

Nongmin stared at me.

“We can bring the Yellow Emperor here,” I continued, “but you’ll have to make sacrifices.”

He fell silent, chewing over my words. For the first time since I’d known him, he seemed genuinely troubled by the prospect of what I was proposing. I could almost see him struggling to reconcile the possibility of recovering something he’d lost with the price he might have to pay to make it happen.