Immortal Paladin

149 Want a Candy?

“I’m sorry about Ren Xun,” I told her, voice low. “I promise I’ll bring him back.”

The words tasted heavy coming out of my mouth. He had died because of me… or more accurately, because he’d agreed to watch over me during our trip to the Imperial Capital. A simple ‘tourguide’ mission, basically babysitting. And now he was dead.

Lin Lim stood still beside the cart, her hand resting lightly on the edge of the beast’s torn wing. She didn’t look at me, but that was nothing new. She never looked at anyone.

Her lips tightened. “Don’t misunderstand.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Ren Xun only volunteered for that journey to avoid his duties… and his desire of wooing me is just a trick. In the end, he just needed an excuse to run away. To put it simply, I just happened to be a convenient excuse he used to appeal to his parents for his desire to get away from that life. We are not in love.”

That was a lie.

I didn’t need to probe deeply into her tone, her heartbeat, or her body language. My Divine Sense told me plain and clear… she was lying. Her words were neat, carefully folded like offerings left at a shrine, meant more for herself than for me.

But I didn’t call her out.

Instead, I just nodded quietly.

“I see.”

I thought, maybe I should give her something. Money, spirit stones, a supply pack, and a talisman. Anything. She deserved something. But I knew how that would look. I knew exactly the kind of steel that lived inside her. She’d take it as pity, and she’d hate me for it.

Instead, I offered something else.

“…Do you want me to heal your eyes?”

She went stiff. The breeze carried her silence like a banner.

Then came the fire.

“No,” she said, sharp and sudden, voice almost too loud for the street. “They’re mine. This blindness is my burden to carry. My punishment.”

“For what?” I asked, almost without thinking.

“It’s my story to tell.”

She clenched her fists, then slowly exhaled. The rage melted back into her, hot iron cooling into something quieter. She didn’t apologize. I didn’t expect her to.

I nodded again, slower this time. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed. She let the silence breathe before she broke it again.

“I’m fine,” she said more softly. “Governor Ren Jin and Lady Yue Ruo have looked after me. I have work. A place. I’m not lost.”

“That’s good,” I murmured.

“But…” She turned her head slightly, toward me, though her gaze passed through. “You’d better bring him back. We still have a lot to talk about.”

I met her not-quite-eyes. “I will.”

Then she walked off with the cart, her footsteps steady, fading into the noise of the street.

Tao Long had been standing quietly beside me the entire time, which was a miracle in itself. He looked toward her retreating form, then turned to me.

“Should we go, Lord Wei?” he asked.

I took one last look at Lin Lim’s back.

“…Yeah. Let’s go.”

Old Song led us through a twisting alley toward what looked like the bones of a house. The building might’ve once been a shop or a courtyard residence, but now the wood sagged like tired shoulders, and the gate leaned open like it had long since forgotten how to close.

“This is where we part ways,” he said, his voice cracked like dry leaves. No farewell, no warning. Just a statement. I nodded. He limped off before I could thank him.

I stepped inside behind Tao Long, the boards creaking under our feet. The scent of dust and old incense clung to the air. Inside, the Emperor stood waiting. Nongmin was dressed not as a ruler but as a traveler, robes simple but sharp. General Zhu Shin was beside him, arms crossed, and spine ramrod straight. The man wore his age like armor: every line in his face was a campaign.

In other words, Zhu Shin was mewing.

Ahem...

I raised an eyebrow. “Is this everyone? I remember you harping about how many would be attending. Contingents, you said. Practically small armies.”

General Zhu Shin gave a short nod, replying, “I am prepared to offer my soldiers at any moment.”

“We’re not going to war,” Nongmin said, not glancing at him. “We’ll move into a small unit. No army.”

I frowned. “Are you expecting a fight?” I had a feeling that if we weren’t expecting a fight, he’d gladly bring along an army to let them gain experience and as a show of prestige to the rival sovereigns.

Zhu Shin offered, “Forgive me if I speak out of place, but if a fight is expected… wouldn’t bringing an army be the point?”

Before the Emperor could answer, Tao Long cut in, voice tight with disapproval. “A fight at the World Summit would be idiotic. The Empire would be sanctioned, maybe even condemned. No one with sense wants that.”

Nongmin remained quiet for a moment. He didn’t pace. He didn’t sigh. He just watched the dust swirl in the air until he spoke again, calmly.

“We’re not picking a fight,” he said, “but there will be a fight.”

The room settled into a stillness that wasn’t quite silence. I folded my arms. “If we’re expecting a fight, then I’d rather move in small units. Strong fighters. No baggage. No formations. Just people who can handle themselves.”

The Emperor nodded slightly. “I’ve invited experts I trust. Some are still arriving.”

“And until then?” I asked.

His gaze shifted. Not just toward me, but… into me. The weight of it was heavy. Suddenly, both Tao Long and Zhu Shin were staring at me too, not unkindly, but with something close to caution.

“There’s something important we must settle first,” Nongmin said, voice low. “It concerns perception… appearance.”

He let that hang just long enough for my mind to start racing before he asked, tone suddenly far too serious:

“For the duration of the World Summit, can you pretend to be my son?”

Silence.

Not because I didn’t know how to answer. Just because I was trying very hard not to laugh.

“…Excuse me?”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He didn’t flinch. “It’s a calculated move. You are already known to many dignitaries by face or by tale. Aligning you publicly with the Empire gives us both cover. You move as my son… unofficially. An honored guest, hidden in plain sight.”

Zhu Shin cleared his throat. “It also keeps enemies from targeting you openly. They’d have to go through us.”

This Emperor wanted to be beaten up, didn’t he?

He looked me dead in the eye, dead serious, like asking me to pretend to be his son, which wasn’t the most absurd thing I’d heard since arriving in this realm. My expression must’ve said as much, because I didn’t even need to speak for the silence to feel loaded.

But I did speak, anyway.

“What’s next?” I asked, voice dry as bone. “I call you daddy?”

Nongmin didn’t flinch. Of course, he didn’t.

I rubbed my temple with two fingers. “Do you remember, Nongmin, that you still owe me one slap? I’ll be delighted to land this itchy palm of mine on your smug imperial face.”

General Zhu Shin bristled instantly. “How dare you disrespect His Majesty—!”

“Calm down,” Nongmin interrupted, lifting a lazy hand in the general’s direction. “He’s not wrong.”

Zhu Shin looked like he might burst a blood vessel.

Nongmin exhaled slowly and turned back to me, eyes tired but focused. “If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, you could pretend to be a squire. Or anyone’s nephew. Tao Long’s, maybe.”

Tao Long choked.

“But,” Nongmin continued, “the best excuse I could think of for you to accompany us is that you’re my mysterious lovechild… disguised as my genius and talented grandson.”

I stared.

Then I stared harder.

“…That’s your best excuse?”

Before he could defend himself, a new voice cut in from the shadows.

“I’ve got it handled.”

Liang Na strolled in like she owned the building… and to be fair, with her entrance, she might as well have. Her robes were crisp, her hair tied up in a braid so tight it probably had its own spiritual formation. She looked sharp, strong, and smug.

She gave me a nod. “Just broke through the Ninth Realm. Early stage.”

Of course she did.

I let out a long sigh and muttered, “I really need more practice reading people.”

I knew Liang Na’s cultivation was high. But Ninth Realm? That was ridiculous. That was bordering on demigod territory. Still… I narrowed my eyes. “Why a son, though?”

Liang Na was already three steps ahead of me.

“I mean no disrespect, Lord Wei,” she said, tone respectful in the most technical sense of the word, “but your Presence and the Spiritual Pressure you exude clearly mark you as someone limited to the Third Realm. That makes you extremely suspicious.”

I folded my arms. “Thanks.”

She kept going, merciless. “If His Majesty were to show up at the World Summit with a Third Realm cultivator—without an army backing him—curious eyes would definitely pry. Questions would spread. Rumors would multiply. That kind of scrutiny is dangerous. But…” She glanced toward Nongmin. “A mysterious illegitimate descendant? With untapped talent and a late start? That’s romantic. Poetic. Politically convenient. You’ll move through the Summit unchallenged, assuming you play your role well.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we all die horribly,” she said, like she was describing the weather. “The Empire is alone, nascent, and painfully lacking in heroes…”

Nongmin added, far too casually, “Liang Na will act as your personal guard.”

“Oh great,” I muttered. “Even more eyes on me.”

“And,” Nongmin added, a little too cheerfully, “with your treasure that allows shapeshifting into smaller physiques…”

I groaned before he could finish.

“…you’ll sell the lie well.”

My hand slowly, very slowly, dragged down my face. “This is revenge, isn’t it? For when I used the Chibi Perfume on you.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

At least he was honest… and unrepentant.

Tao Long finally stepped forward, clearing his throat like he’d been waiting for an opening. “I will similarly stay by Lord Wei’s side.”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

“I feel… an affinity,” he said carefully, “to Lord Da Wei. I wish to witness his greatness up close.”

That was a lie.

Not the worst lie, but still a lie. The guy was clearly scheming something, but honestly? I didn’t have the energy to deal with him just yet. I mean, I liked him enough… so I’d feel terrible if he ended up screwing with me, but that was just how people worked. Let him watch. Let him witness.

I looked at Nongmin, who was still watching me with that infuriatingly patient expression.

“So,” he asked, arms folded behind his back. “What’s it gonna be?”

I took a breath.

Let it out.

“…Fine,” I said at last. “But be forewarned… when I get into a role, I take it seriously.”

Nongmin smiled faintly. “I expect nothing less, my son.”

I reached for my Chibi Perfume and stared at the little bottle like it personally betrayed me. Then, without another word, I popped the cap.

“Yes, Father.”

I sprayed myself with the Chibi Perfume.

In an instant, my body shrank: limbs compressing, torso tightening, and even my robes slinking inward as if obedient to the magic. It was surprisingly comfortable. Whoever enchanted the item had actually accounted for the user’s clothes adjusting too, which, considering how often magical gear ignored modesty, was nothing short of miraculous.

“Convenient gimmicky item,” I muttered, adjusting my sleeves and testing my gait. “I’m a walking plush toy now.”

Nongmin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, not even pretending to hide the amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll fit in well. You act like a child anyway.”

I turned slowly to face him, eyes narrowed to slits. “Hey, hey… that’s crossing a line.”

“What’s next?” I asked, not even bothering to wait for a response. “You gonna pinch my cheeks and call me adorable?”

He smirked. “Tempting.”

Before I could threaten to unshrink just to slap him, he changed the subject. “We’re waiting on two more people. They’ll be joining our little entourage for the Summit.”

“Oh? Who?”

“One is the Sect Master of the Cloud Mist Sect,” he said. “The other, an independent cultivator of considerable renown. Both are in the Tenth Realm, so… you might want to watch your back around them.”

Tenth Realm? Of course. Why not just throw in a dragon or a celestial beast while we're at it. Wait, we already have a dragon in our midst, so that had to count for something, right?

I crossed my arms and frowned. “Cloud Mist… you talking about the sect here in Riverfall?”

Nongmin shook his head. “No, no. That’s just a provincial branch. I’m referring to the main sect. The real one.”

Then he paused. I could tell a lecture was coming. I could feel it. Sure enough, he steepled his fingers and went full teacher-mode.

“Their true name,” he said with exaggerated importance, “is Cloud and Mist as One, Yet Never United Sect.”

“…Huh?”

He nodded gravely. “Exactly.”

“Wait. That’s seriously their name?”

“Yes.”

“That’s…” I blinked. “So that’s why it’s not Cloudy or Misty. It’s not an adjective. It’s two nouns awkwardly crammed together into a philosophical contradiction.”

“They are very proud of that.”

“I bet they are,” I muttered.

Nongmin continued, as though he hadn’t just dropped a naming disaster onto my lap. “The Cloud Mist Sect maintains a unique relationship with the Empire. Though they’re directly affiliated with the Heavenly Temple, their Holy Mountain lies within imperial territory.”

“So they’re squatters.”

“They pay for the privilege,” Nongmin said smoothly. “Heavily. Unlike the sects born and raised within our borders, Cloud Mist is taxed aggressively in exchange for imperial protection.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re extorting them.”

“I am extorting them,” he said shamelessly. “And it works. The Empire has remained an unassailable powerhouse largely because of one reason.”

He tapped a finger to his temple.

“My Heavenly Eye.”

Then he spread his arms, expansive and regal. “And because I am strongest when I remain within my Territory. They know better than to test me on home soil.”

He said it like it was a simple fact. Like gravity. I wasn’t sure if I should be impressed or concerned.

Probably both.

“You really are a final boss, huh?” I murmured.

He glanced at me sidelong, that knowing smirk curling again at his lips. “Only if you make me one.”

Gods help me, he wasn’t even kidding. I mean, I was more surprised he got the reference.

There was something deeply unsettling about how casually Nongmin had started to adopt my mannerisms. A few phrases here and there, the cadence of his sarcasm… it was getting suspicious. Was this man actually borrowing my personality?

It made me wonder: just how many times had he talked to me in alternate timelines? I knew he used his Heavenly Eye to simulate possibilities, but lately it felt like he’d been doing it a lot. Enough to mimic my speech patterns.

Were the other versions of me that gullible? Spilling secrets just because someone smiled at them and offered a bit of imperial flattery?

No. I didn’t think so. I had too much pride, even in parallel.

Still… a dark thought crept in.

Did the Emperor torture me in those alternate realities to make me spill secrets?

I shook my head. Nah. That wouldn’t work either. If that happened, I’d end up killing him. Probably slowly. My lie detection ability didn’t just work on others… I was pretty damn good at spotting manipulation, even layered across dimensions. And if anything, I'd weaponize it in reverse.

There was a knock on the door.

“That would be the Cloud Mist Sect Master,” Nongmin said casually. “If you don’t mind.”

He wasn’t looking at me, just sipping tea and enjoying himself like he hadn’t just dropped that bomb. I realized I was standing in front of the door. I opened it, not because he asked, but because I had to get out of the way.

And that’s when I saw him.

An old man with flowing white hair, bright laughing eyes, and a youthful grin that looked way too mischievous for someone claiming Tenth Realm status.

“Oh! Who is this cutie?” he said the moment he saw me.

I didn’t even have time to flinch before his hands were on my face, stretching my cheeks, patting my head, giving me full-on coddles like I was a lost puppy and he was a grandma at a dumpling shop.

“Is this your grandson, Your Majesty?” he cooed, turning briefly toward Nongmin. “He’s so adorable!”

My voice came out higher-pitched than usual thanks to the Chibi Perfume. “I’ll kill you.”

The old man blinked.

“I am in my murder hobo arc, let go of me!”

He burst out laughing. “Oh! He’s got spunk too!”

I barely restrained myself. It took every ounce of my willpower not to drop the full power of my Reflect ability and turn his enthusiastic pinches into divine backlash.

Internally, I was raging.

Nongmin, you bastard! You saw this, didn’t you? You definitely saw this in one of your precog runs. And you said nothing.

That settled it.

From now on, if anything bad happened to me, I would blame Nongmin by default. Even if it wasn’t his fault. New policy.

Suddenly, the old man leaned in and whispered like he was offering contraband.

“Do you want candy?”

…

Okay.

Maybe I’d postpone Nongmin’s punishment.

Because, yes. I could use the candy.