Immortal Paladin

128 Under the Pale Moonlight

The moon hung low, round and solemn, casting silver light across the dunes. The desert was quiet tonight, eerily so. Even the wind whispered as if trying not to disturb the lonely figure atop the sandy ridge.

Lu Gao exhaled slowly. The night was calm, but his heart was not.

It had been months, three, maybe four, depending on how one counted days without proper sunrises. He had been separated from his Master and the others during that chaotic battle. He remembered the final clash, the screaming, the blood... and then waking up alone, half-buried in sand with the upper half of his robe missing.

Since then, he had wandered with a certain duo.

His Master? No, he wasn’t worried about that man. Da Wei was the type who’d survive anything. The world might collapse, but that man would probably joke about it on the way down.

But the others…

Gu Jie, Ren Jingyi, even Hei Mao. And especially, Ren Xun.

Ren Xun, who was only supposed to be their guide. Ren Xun, who always fumbled during drills. Ren Xun, who had the delicate build of a scribe and the reflexes of a startled rabbit.

“We shouldn’t have let him come,” Lu Gao muttered. “The Emperor won’t want us dead, right? Master would probably be fine, but…”

He tilted his head toward the moon, the weight of guilt growing heavier in his chest.

And yet… Lu Gao smiled faintly.

Ren Xun had the stubbornness of the Ren bloodline. Even if he was useless in a fist fight, the man was formidable enough when it came to spell formations, a talent unique to his bloodline, probably inherited from the Emperor himself.

If at Martial Tempering, a cultivator would reach levels of physical prowess beyond mortal ability. If at Mind Enlightenment, a cultivator would hone their mind to achieve super perception and greater thought. If at Will Reinforcement, a cultivator would be able to express their will to the world. Then at Spirit Mystery, a cultivator would begin to manifest powers unique to their own path of cultivation: abilities shaped by their soul, their intent, and their journey.

For Lu Gao, that power had taken the shape of conjuration.

With a quiet grunt, Lu Gao brought his hands together. Purple flames flickered to life between his fingers, twisting and writhing before taking form… an elegant saber forged from ethereal fire.

“Hollow Point: Incursion,” he whispered. “Take form into the shape I desire, oh… I beseech you, my nascent power!”

His Spirit Mystery Realm manifestation answered.

The blade gleamed in the moonlight, and without further hesitation, Lu Gao moved.

Each step was precise. The sand shifted, but he flowed through it with the grace of a practiced dancer. His purple flame saber carved arcs of light into the night, each movement a verse in the silent poem he composed with his body.

From the outside, it looked beautiful… an art piece in motion.

From within, it was war.

This was how he trained now. No more sparring partners. No more handmaidens delivering tea. No supervising instructor throwing fruit at him when he made a mistake.

Just the wind, the sand, and the whispers of the dead.

Aili Si’s voice cut through the silence. “Stop.”

Lu Gao halted mid-motion, the saber humming faintly in his hand.

He turned his head slightly.

Aili Si.

That probably wasn’t her real name, of course. It was just the closest approximation he’d managed to pull from her strange, lilting speech when talking to the blonde woman. Whatever the case, his Master had told him they could be trusted.

So he did.

The woman with the rosy pink hair and amused eyes looked like a demonic cultivator if he’d ever seen one. Her energy felt wrong, not twisted, not evil, but… wild. Unshackled.

Still, Da Wei trusted her. That was enough.

Lu Gao lowered the saber slightly.

From the woman’s waist, the floating skull tethered to her belt let out a lecherous chuckle.

“I’d appreciate your flawless movement and topless appearance if you were a woman,” it crooned, voice full of ancient sleaze. “Alas, you are just another bastard!”

Lu Gao ignored the skull.

He raised his hand to disperse the conjured saber.

“Don’t,” Aili Si said, stepping forward.

He froze.

Before he could react, she reached out and plucked the saber from his hand as if it were a real, physical object. His eyes widened. No one should have been able to do that. The blade was an expression of his Spirit Mystery, a manifestation of his soul.

“W-Wait—!” he began.

Too late. She twirled it once in her grip, examining the flames as if inspecting a strange flower. The saber did not flicker or fade… it obeyed her touch, gleaming quietly like a house pet submitting to a new master.

Panic prickled beneath Lu Gao’s skin. He resisted the urge to step back.

His cultivation at Spirit Mystery hadn’t granted him extended life, but it had given him power, abilities more refined and dangerous than most cultivators of his level. Under the right conditions, he could even cross realms and fight those stronger than him.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But Aili Si didn’t seem impressed. She didn’t even seem interested. She was just toying with the conjured weapon like it was nothing.

“Interesting,” she remarked offhandedly. “A little immature in shape-binding, but the soul echo is stable. You’re young.”

Lu Gao blinked.

She turned to him, handing the saber back without ceremony. “Try again. This time, focus less on performance and more on intent.”

He took it silently.

“Yes,” he said, almost on instinct.

There were many things he didn’t understand. Who Aili Si really was. Why the skull never shuts up. Why the desert still felt wrong beneath his feet.

But his Master trusted them. And right now, Lu Gao wanted to be stronger.

So when she told him to try again… he obeyed.

The moon had drifted higher, casting longer shadows over the dunes by the time Lu Gao finished his third weapon conjuration… a spear of lightning-chased jade, flickering and humming with ghostlight.

He stood before Aili Si, breath steady but shirt still missing, the desert wind now a familiar companion against his skin. The pink-haired woman circled him once, her arms folded and her brow furrowed in thought. She hadn’t said much during his demonstration, only nodding or occasionally clicking her tongue when he formed something sloppy. Her expression remained as unreadable as ever.

Then finally, she spoke.

“Enough.” She waved a hand like she was shooing off a particularly persistent cloud. “I’ve seen your shapes. Blade, bow, spear, those tiny flying swordlings… decent control. But clumsy. You are not soul-deep in them yet. I will make a regime for training.”

“Regimen,” Lu Gao corrected quietly, brushing some sand off his pants.

“Regime, regimen, same same,” Aili Si replied breezily, clearly unconcerned with the nuance. She turned her gaze to the distant dunes, as if seeing through them. “You are Paladin, yes? You can take more… sacred power. There are some techniques, holy ones, that might shape you better.”

Lu Gao blinked. “You… know what a Paladin is?”

“Of course. They are my nemeses, priests come a close second.”

The aforementioned skull gave a lewd chuckle from her belt. “And I told her you were a meathead with a conjuration kink.”

Lu Gao grunted and looked away.

The skull was a master of making trouble by taking advantage of the language barrier.

Aili Si continued, seemingly unbothered. “There is a woman, blonde. She is a White Caster. Ask her what to steal. I mean… learn.” She pursed her lips, frowning. “Steal-learn. Stearn.”

Ah… What was her name again? Sho An? Jo Ahn? Cho An. Yeah, Cho An, that should do.

It would take some time for Lu Gao to learn their language, but he was working hard.

“Learn from,” Lu Gao corrected gently.

“Yes, that.” She nodded as if she’d just solved a great puzzle.

It had only been a few months since she started learning Common, but already she could hold conversations… sometimes. Occasionally, though, her word choices left Lu Gao more flustered than he cared to admit.

“Before, when I say your thrusting was very strong,” she began, tilting her head at him, “I did not mean it sounded like rutting.”

Lu Gao almost choked on his own breath. “You could’ve just said my piercing technique was good.”

“Thrusting sounds better. Strong. Potent.” She looked him dead in the eye. “It had rhythm.”

He stared at her, face flushing. “You really need to be careful with how you say that.”

“But why? It is true.” She crossed her arms. “You do it with your whole body.”

Lu Gao covered his face with one hand. “You… you can’t say things like that in public. People will misunderstand.”

“I want them to understand,” she said, clearly confused. “You have strong thrusting. Your form is perfect. Everyone should know this.”

Lu Gao groaned.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just say… ‘he has good spear technique.’ Simple. No misunderstanding.”

Aili Si nodded, though she didn’t look fully convinced.

She tried again. “His spear is long and penetrating?”

“No.”

“Piercing.”

“Still no.”

“…Stabby?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll work on metaphors later.”

She shrugged. “Strange language. So many words. Why is ‘staff’ not the same as ‘staff’? I told a man in the town I needed a long staff inside me, and they chased me out with bread.”

Lu Gao winced. “I don’t even want to unpack that one.”

“Bread is also wrong word,” she muttered, as if to herself. “They didn’t throw bread. It was stale. Like rock. Very rude.”

The skull let out a high-pitched wheeze of amusement. “Oh, she’s learning fast. At this rate, she’ll be banned from every city on the continent by spring.”

Lu Gao sighed and looked up at the moon.

His Master had said to trust these two. No, not the skull. Definitely not the skull. His Master was surely referring to the two women. And, well… so far, they hadn’t tried to kill him.

That was worth something.

"Let’s dive!" Aili Si declared with a triumphant grin.

Lu Gao tilted his head. "You mean… ‘let’s go’?"

She blinked, then frowned. “Same?”

“Not quite. You dive into the water. You go somewhere. Unless we’re diving into our sixth inn,” he muttered under his breath.

The skull hanging from her belt let out a lecherous laugh. “I don’t mind diving if she’s leading the way.”

“Shut it,” Lu Gao said, though his tone lacked real bite.

They broke into a run, their movements light across the dunes. The conjured flame-blade had long since dissipated, and now the only light was the moon's glow and the occasional shimmer of Aili Si’s floating veil ribbons, fluttering behind her like ghostly streamers.

It didn’t take long to return to the village.

Sandthorn was small, barely a hundred structures, if one was being generous. The buildings were squat and round, shaped from hardened clay and packed sand. No walls, no gates, no guards. Just silence. Most of the inhabitants were already asleep, their windows shuttered and lanterns dark. Only the occasional creak of wood or snort of a dozing animal broke the stillness.

There were no oasis pools nearby, no babbling streams. The only water came from deep beneath the sand, drawn by creaky old contraptions and sold in clay jugs. That was how they earned coin here, by selling conjured or purified water. Simple, clean, and effective. Lu Gao’s flame conjuration techniques had little to do with water, but Aili Si had her own tricks, and Cho An… well, Cho An had smarts.

This was their sixth inn. The first two towns had guards too nosy for their liking. Aili Si had nearly incinerated one for trying to touch her hair. In the third village, they’d unknowingly walked into a bandit den. Lu Gao still remembered the look of horror on the local “mayor” when Aili Si melted a crossbow into slag. The fourth and fifth inns? Rude innkeepers, high prices, and too many questions.

Sandthorn was… tolerable.

They reached their small rented house, barely more than a two-room hut, and slipped inside, careful not to make noise. But someone was already awake.

Cho An sat hunched over a tiny wooden desk. Scrolls, maps, and makeshift parchment covered every surface, including half the wall. The glow of a single spirit-stone lantern illuminated her face, cast in soft blue hues. Her golden hair was tied in a loose braid, and her eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration.

“You didn’t sleep again?” Lu Gao asked, brushing sand from his pants.

Cho An looked up. “No.”

Aili Si stepped forward. “She is mapping?”

“Yes,” Cho An replied curtly, tapping one of the hanging scrolls. “Wind. Here. Move dune.”

“You mean… the wind moves the dunes here?” Lu Gao offered.

“Yes.” Cho An nodded. “Change every day. Hard path. Safe here.” She pointed at a narrow line in red.

Aili Si crouched beside her. “As you can see, Lu Gao… She is a very serious person.”

“Seems that way,” Lu Gao said with a tired smile. “I’d dare say, she’s the most intense person I’ve ever met.”

Cho An heard that and muttered, “Serious. Not intense.”

“You’re both,” Lu Gao said gently. Then he glanced at the map again. “Are we still good to stay here for another day or two?”

Cho An gave a small shrug. “Maybe. No fight. No question. We stay.”

It wasn’t exactly a ‘yes,’ but for her, it was close enough.

“Alright,” Lu Gao said, finally sitting down and leaning back against the wall. “Tomorrow, we train. Aili Si wants to make me less embarrassing.”

Aili Si beamed. “Yes. I will make him very strong. Very... hard.”

Lu Gao’s soul left his body for a second.

“You mean resilient. You’ll make me resilient.”

Aili Si tilted her head. “Same, no?”

“No,” Cho An said simply from the desk, not even looking up.

The skull cackled again. “She’s my favorite. Both of them.”

“Can I bury that thing in the sand?” Lu Gao asked.

“No,” Aili Si and Cho An replied in unison.