Immortal Paladin

024 Fourth Day

The fourth day of the festival had arrived. For me, it was nearly the fifth since I had been cast into this world.

An attendant led me through the sprawling estate of City Governor Ren Jin. His pace was excruciatingly slow—understandable for a mere mortal, but frustrating nonetheless. The manor itself was vast, a testament to wealth and power, with polished stone floors that sent echoes drifting through the quiet corridors.

Why was I here?

Ren Jin had graciously provided lodging while Elder Lei Fen worked to adapt Gu Jie’s cultivation method into something usable at the First Realm. I had no patience for idle waiting, but I wasn’t about to abandon my follower in a time of need.

As we walked, I took in the extravagant displays of wealth—gold-inlaid carvings on the wooden pillars, intricate paintings lining the walls, and the scent of rare incense curling in the air.

Just as I was beginning to appreciate the luxurious surroundings, a familiar presence flickered beside me.

Fan Shi.

I had long since noticed her tailing me, her attempts at concealment was useless before my Divine Sense. Now, she finally chose to reveal herself.

“How may I help you, Ms. Fan?” I asked without breaking stride.

Her gaze sharpened. “What is your cultivation realm?”

Again with this? Did no one in this world have any other topic of conversation?

“That is a matter I prefer to keep to myself.”

She studied me for a moment, then inclined her head slightly. “I have a match. Excuse me, Senior.” Without another word, she turned and left.

At last, we arrived before a set of heavy wooden doors, guarded by two armored cultivators.

The attendant bowed. “We have arrived, honored cultivator.”

The guards assessed me with quick, practiced glances before pushing the doors open. They swung inward without a creak, revealing an opulent VIP box. The scent of incense deepened, mingling with the faint energy fluctuations of the enchantments woven into the chamber.

Stepping inside, I took in the space.

The room was grander than I had expected, its design both refined and imposing. Five seats formed a slight arc, offering a commanding view of the arena below. At the center sat Ren Jin himself, exuding effortless authority even in repose. To his left was an elder clad in the flowing robes of the Cloud Mist Sect, his aged features betraying a wealth of experience. Further down sat a middle-aged man with a keen, cutting aura—one glance at his bearing marked him as a swordsman, likely from the Sword Canopy Sect.

This was a gathering of power. And for now, I was its guest.

To Ren Jin’s right, two seats remained. One was already occupied by a representative of the Isolation Path Sect, while the other, I presumed, was mine.

Without a word, I took my place, letting my gaze sweep over the gathering.

The man beside me turned slightly, offering a respectful bow. “Greetings, Senior. I am Chang Fan, a disciple of—”

Before he could finish, the Cloud Mist Sect elder let out a dissatisfied grunt.

“Where is Lei Fen?” The old man’s voice was laced with impatience. “Leaving us to wait like this… Does he find the next generation so beneath his notice?”

I resisted the urge to sigh. Cultivators and their ceaseless power plays—what a waste of breath.

Chang Fan tensed beside me, caught between his reverence for the elder and his duty to defend his sect’s honor.

Before the situation grew needlessly troublesome, I spoke. “Lei Fen is absent for the simple reason that he is performing a favor for me.”

The Sword Canopy Elder, who had remained silent until now, finally stirred. “And you are?”

I exhaled inwardly. Surely, no one here was foolish enough to start a fight in a setting as refined as this? Then again, with cultivators, one could never be certain. A single misplaced word could mean the difference between idle curiosity and outright provocation.

“I am Da Wei,” I replied evenly. “I’ve troubled Lord Ren Jin with a… minor incident beyond his city’s walls.”

The Sword Canopy Elder’s eyes sharpened. “That was you?”

How rude.

Maintaining my composure, I continued, “Since then, I have made my apologies to his lordship. I am grateful for his hospitality.”

The weight of their gazes settled upon me, their qi pressing in subtle waves, testing, probing.

How predictable.

According to Gu Jie, when one was probed by qi, it felt like countless tiny pinpricks against the skin. I felt nothing of the sort.

But thanks to my Perception stat and Divine Sense, their scrutiny might as well have been written in the air.

Divine Sense had originally been a simple scouting ability, meant to detect hostility in the game. Yet, through repeated use, I had begun to notice it could do far more—perceiving killing intent, presence, even the subtle fluctuations of attention. It wasn’t something explicitly detailed in the mechanics, but I recalled vague mentions in old flavor text that suggested its potential. If I trained it further, who knew what else I could refine?

I suppressed a sigh. The two elders weren’t exuding killing intent, but their hostility was clear enough that Divine Sense marked them without issue.

Before the silence grew strained, Ren Jin, ever the consummate host, intervened smoothly. “I believe proper introductions are in order.” He gestured toward the Cloud Mist Sect elder. “Daoist Da Wei, this is Daoist Pan Xia of the Cloud Mist Sect.” Then, to the other, “And beside him is Daoist Long Xieren of the Sword Canopy Sect.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Pan Xia inclined his head and unfurled a folding fan, waving it lazily with a practiced air of ease. “Greetings, fellow Daoist. If you do not mind me asking—what is your cultivation realm?”

I held back a sigh. Here we go again.

“Does it matter?” I replied evenly. “Is it not considered discourteous to inquire about one’s cultivation upon first meeting?”

Long Xieren scoffed. “That is what you say, yet your qi presence is negligible. If anything, your physique is the only thing of note.”

Oh? So that confirmed it—they couldn’t detect mana.

Lei Fen hadn’t sensed it. Ren Jin hadn’t either. Jiang Zhen, for all his experience, failed as well. If any of them could perceive it, they gave no indication of understanding what they were seeing.

A quiet confidence settled over me. So long as their methods remained blind to my true nature, I held a considerable advantage.

Of course, that didn’t make being interrogated any less tedious.

I shrugged. “Sect Master Jiang Zhen said the same.”

That name drop had exactly the effect I wanted.

Pan Xia’s fan stilled mid-wave. Long Xieren’s brows furrowed slightly.

I had not spoken falsely. Nor had I revealed anything outright. Just enough to let them infer that I shared some unspoken connection with a high-ranking figure such as Jiang Zhen.

Suck on that, old man.

Chang Fan, the Isolation Path Sect disciple, spoke with a calm yet firm voice. “Master Da is an honored friend of our sect and a peer of our Sect Master. I ask my seniors to extend to him the same respect afforded to the Isolation Path Sect.”

Oh? Now that was an interesting spin.

Pan Xia arched a brow, snapping his fan shut with a soft flick. “Ho~ what an unexpected turn of events. Forgive my earlier impertinence, then, but might I inquire about Senior’s origins and affiliation?”

A polite veneer, but the intent behind his words was sharp. This Cloud Mist Sect Elder had taken an interest in me, and not the friendly kind. Even as he addressed me as Senior, his question was anything but innocent—a barbed probe wrapped in courtesy.

Still, I had already been named a peer of the Isolation Path Sect’s Master. That alone had shifted their perception of me. No need to fight the tide—better to ride it.

I inclined my head slightly, keeping my tone measured. “I hail from a distant land. A traveler, nothing more.”

Long Xieren scoffed. “A peer of the Isolation Path Sect’s Master, yet you claim to be merely a traveler? Unbelievable. That golden radiance outside the city… That must have been you exchanging pointers with him.” He nodded to himself. “Admirable strength, fellow Daoist.”

Oh, if only you knew.

I suppressed a sigh. So that was the conclusion they had reached? Not bad. I could work with that.

Pan Xia chose to keep his distance for now, continuing to address me as Senior—no doubt unwilling to provoke an unknown factor. Long Xieren, on the other hand, took a different approach, treating me as an equal. Their motives were unclear, but they were certainly weighing their next move.

And then, something clicked.

The auction.

Gu Jie had mentioned whispers of a significant auction approaching. It wasn’t part of the official festival itinerary, but I had a strong feeling it would take place on the final day.

Were they wary of me because they saw me as a potential competitor?

Interesting. I had barely stepped into the world of high cultivator society, and already, they were treating me as an unknown piece on their board.

The tournament had reached the quarter-finals. Outside the VIP box, the crowd buzzed with excitement, a chaotic hum of voices anticipating the battles ahead. Cultivators and mortals alike packed the arena, eager to witness the next generation’s clash for supremacy.

Below, the arena’s elevated stone platform stood reinforced by intricate formations, ensuring that the destructive force of the upcoming duels would be contained. The sun hung high, casting sharp shadows as two figures stepped onto the stage.

Chief Enforcer Liang Na, standing at the center, would act as the referee. Her expression remained unreadable, her official robes lending her an air of absolute authority. With a single glance, she silenced the murmurs in the audience, her gaze sweeping between the two competitors.

One of them was Fan Shi, the Isolation Path Sect disciple I had met earlier. Dressed in her signature black robes with silver trim, she exuded the same eerie, unsettling pressure as before. Her long, dark hair was tied up, exposing the cold, sharp lines of her face—a blade without a sheath.

Opposite her stood her opponent, a female disciple of the Cloud Mist Sect.

If Fan Shi was a jade beauty, then this woman was an ice beauty.

She carried herself with a regal grace, her expression as composed as a winter landscape untouched by warmth. She wore pristine white robes edged with mist-like silver embroidery, her long, frosty silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her presence was distant, refined, carrying the faint scent of frozen lilies.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the others in the VIP box. “So, anyone here feel like doing some commentary?”

Silence.

I scanned the room. Pan Xia, Long Xieren, and Ren Jin were all watching the arena with the solemn expressions of seasoned cultivators analyzing a battle of significance. Even Chang Fan had his brows furrowed in quiet focus.

Damn. I got spoiled by Gu Jie.

She would have already launched into a detailed breakdown—sect backgrounds, fighting styles, notable achievements. Instead, I was stuck with a room full of serious old men and their scrutiny.

Luckily, Chang Fan was a helpful sort.

He turned to me and asked, “Master Da, what is it you wish to know?”

I gestured toward the ice beauty. “I know Fan Shi, but what about her?”

Chang Fan gave a knowing nod. “That’s to be expected, Master Da. After all, you are not from around here.”

Pan Xia leaned back, idly waving his fan with an air of satisfaction. “She is our Sect’s pride and treasure, a direct descendant of our noble lineage. Her roots trace back to the Parent Sect of Cloud Mist.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Parent Sect?”

The question was innocent enough—nothing that should raise suspicion. If I was playing the role of a traveler unfamiliar with local customs, a bit of ignorance was only natural. Still, Pan Xia clicked his tongue in annoyance, clearly displeased at having to explain something so obvious—at least, obvious to them.

Thankfully, Chang Fan was much more accommodating. “Master Da, some Sects expand their influence by establishing branches in different provinces, and in rare cases, across entire continents. The Parent Sect refers to the original Sect from which these branches originate.”

Huh. So something like a franchise, but for cultivators?

Chang Fan continued, “The Cloud Mist Sect has a long and illustrious history, its roots tracing back to the main continent.”

Main continent? That was new.

I had read a fair bit since arriving here, and Gu Jie had shared plenty of stories, but I had yet to come across a proper world map. From what I had gathered, Riverfall Continent was merely one of many under the dominion of the Empire. If they were mentioning the ‘main continent’ so casually, then the world was much larger than I had assumed.

Chang Fan gestured toward the arena. “Jia Yun of Cloud Mist Sect is a rising star—Second Realm, Sixth Star, Mid Stage.”

I rubbed my chin. “And Fan Shi?”

Chang Fan’s expression turned serious. “Fan Shi is stronger, but… her path is different.”

I glanced down at the stage.

Jia Yun stood with ethereal grace, her pristine white robes edged with silver mist embroidery, an icy contrast to Fan Shi’s darker, more ominous attire. The way she carried herself—detached, regal—suggested she was used to being revered.

Fan Shi, by contrast, was motionless, her presence like a still, deep pool.

Liang Na, the acting referee, stepped forward and raised her hand. The match was about to begin.

I leaned back in my seat.

Fan Shi moved first, stepping forward with a graceful bow. "Disciple of the Isolation Path Sect greets Jia Yun of the Cloud Mist Sect."

Jia Yun barely put in the effort to respond. She cupped her fist in return, her expression indifferent, her voice carrying a lazy drawl.

“…The same.”

From my seat in the VIP box, I studied them closely. The contrast was stark.

Fan Shi exuded a quiet menace, her dark robes blending into the eerie stillness around her, as if the very air recoiled from her presence. Jia Yun, by contrast, stood untouched—pristine, immovable, an ice sculpture carved in the shape of a woman.

Liang Na cast an even gaze over them both. “The same rules apply as yesterday. The conditions for defeat are stepping out of bounds, drawing first blood, a call for surrender, or incapacitation.”

The air grew heavier.

The crowd, sensing the imminent clash, hushed. Even the distant murmur of wind over the arena walls seemed to fade, as if the world itself held its breath.

A moment of silence.

Then—

“Fight.”

No movement.

Jia Yun remained where she stood, utterly motionless.

Fan Shi mirrored her, still as a shadow.

Yet, something was shifting between them.

An unseen force pressed outward, subtle but undeniable—a clash of presence, of will. It wasn’t just a test of strength or technique. This was a duel of intent, a contest to see who would break the stillness first.

I narrowed my eyes.

This fight had already begun.