Immortal Paladin

193 Migration?

“Hei Mao!?”

The name struck my ears like a bell in the dark. My eyes shot open, blood rushing to my head as the haze of unconsciousness peeled away. A red scarf flashed across my mind’s eye, too quick to grasp. Was it a dream? A hallucination? No. It felt real. I remembered someone. No face, only the warmth of being carried and the scent of spring rain clinging to that scarf.

“Brother?”

That voice. It was gentle and familiar. Small hands were wrapped around mine.

I blinked, focusing on the small face leaning over me. Her wide eyes were glossy with tears, her brows furrowed in concern. It was her.

“Da Ji?” I croaked.

My voice was hoarse, like gravel dragged over steel. I clutched her hand reflexively, afraid that letting go might send me back into that void again.

“Rest, brother. Don’t strain yourself,” she whispered, her fingers curling around mine.

I obeyed, slumping back into the cot. My body ached in waves. I was swathed in bandages… over my shoulders, chest, abdomen, even across my thigh. I felt like a broken puppet stitched back together with prayer and luck.

“Mom! Brother is awake!” Da Ji’s voice rang out.

I watched her dart from the room like a bird freed from a cage. My head throbbed as I tried to sit upright, but my body screamed at me for the attempt.

“How did I get here?” I asked, half-mumbling.

She returned in a flurry, grasping my hand. “Dad found you. He was out hunting with the village men. They saw smoke from the forest… then they saw you… collapsed and covered in blood.”

Her voice cracked, and I saw the tremble in her lip. “Brother, what happened to you?”

What happened?

Where would I even begin?

The Empire was probably in ashes. Jiangshi ambushed me… Undead warriors who moved with martial mastery nearly killed me. I’d been poisoned, hunted, and almost torn apart. Someone had saved me, though I still didn’t know how. Was it my Summon: Holy Spirit spell? And in the middle of all of that, I remembered a cultist suddenly exploding in front of me after shouting something about a Yama King.

“Ugh… my head hurts…”

I sighed, long and low. The weight of memory pressed against my chest.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” I muttered. “It’s… too much.”

I tried to shift my internal energy. “Help me up,” I said gently.

Da Ji hesitated but complied, bracing me as I moved into a half-sitting position. My limbs trembled with effort, but the pain was manageable now. It was dull and distant.

My mother entered, and her face was tight with worry.

“Da Wei,” she said, walking straight to me. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I guess,” I replied, trying to smile.

She knelt beside me, placing a cool hand on my forehead. Her touch was light, but her brows knit together in worry. Without a word, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small clay pot, unscrewing the lid to reveal a dark salve. She applied it to my temples and neck, her movements practiced.

“Da Ji, help your brother with his bandages.”

Da Ji nodded and began to unwrap the bindings with gentle, patient hands.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. I let them work in silence, cooperating where I could. My thoughts drifted instead to what came next. The world was changing. I could feel it in the air, even through fever and fatigue. Something akin to the Warring States period was coming… I could feel it in my bones. Not that I was an expert on history, but I wasn’t so dull as to lack imagination. Power vacuums never remained empty for long. Chaos fed ambition, and ambition bled into war.

“Brother?” Da Ji’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Why are you crying?”

I hadn’t noticed.

But she was right.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, silent and without sobs. I raised a hand, touching the wetness. I didn’t even know what part of me was mourning anymore.

Maybe all of it.

Ah, shit.

The tears weren’t just grief or pain. They were helplessness. I realized, right then and there, that I might not be able to protect my family at all in this life. Not against what was coming. Not against the storm that had already begun to sweep through the world like wildfire through dry grass. Losing confidence in yourself was one thing, but losing faith in your power, purpose, and ability to change anything… That was something else entirely. That was the kind of despair that lodged deep in the bones.

I used to think I could take on anything. I had wielded divine techniques, cut down monsters, and faced down legacies old as empires. But what was that worth when the world itself seemed rigged against me? The Heavenly Demon was just the beginning. Now there was this Yama King, and gods knew how many more, all probably just as powerful and just as twisted.

We were insects. That’s what it came down to. Me, my family, everyone in this village… we were nothing in the eyes of these beings. Their schemes spanned lifetimes. We were just caught in the crossfire.

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My chest shuddered, and before I could stop it, Mom wrapped her arms around me from behind. Da Ji joined in, pressing her cheek to mine.

“It’s going to be fine,” Mom whispered, though even she didn’t sound convinced.

I wanted to cry harder, louder, and desperately, the way children do when they’ve finally given up on being strong, but I held it in. This wasn’t the time. There were still things I had to do. Plans I had to make. People I needed to protect. Sure, I could blame the breakdown on my teenage body, on hormones or trauma, but let’s not kid ourselves… The truth was, I was fucked, and I knew it.

Eventually, Da Ji finished changing my bandages, her hands more careful than before. My body still ached, but at least the shaking had stopped. I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand, swallowing the rest down.

“I need to talk to Dad,” I muttered.

“I’m here.”

The voice came from the doorway, breathless and urgent. My father, Da Jin, stepped in, his face glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted the whole way from the outer fields. He looked rough, hair sticking to his face, clothes wrinkled, dirt on his boots.

“I ran here as fast as I could when I heard you were awake,” he said, coming over and hugging me with all the strength a father could offer.

“Ouch, ouch,” I winced. “That hurts.”

“Sorry,” he muttered quickly, pulling back, eyes wide with guilt. “You… you look terrible, son. What happened out there?”

I glanced to the side, then down, breathing slowly through my nose. There was no easy way to say this, but I couldn’t afford to delay either. Time was bleeding away like the sun setting on a battlefield.

“I think the village chief needs to hear this too,” I said. “We don’t have time to waste. What I’m about to say… It’s not just bad. It’s the kind of thing that could decide whether or not we even have a future.”

My father’s expression darkened, lines forming around his mouth and eyes like cracks in stone. “Stay here, I will get the chief.” He gave a slow nod and turned to leave, already calling out for someone to fetch the chief.

“I will come with you!”

I tried to get up, gritting my teeth as I swung one leg over the cot, but Mom placed a firm hand on my chest, gently pushing me back down. “Don’t be stubborn,” she said. “You’re injured. Let the chief come here himself if it’s so urgent.”

Da Ji had already risen without being asked, but Mom nodded toward her anyway. “Prepare tea for the visitors, dear. Use the good leaves.”

Da Ji left quietly, her footsteps light but quick. Once we were alone, Mom settled on the edge of the bed and looked at me, her expression a mixture of worry and resignation. “Only you returned, Da Wei,” she said. Her voice wasn’t cold, but it cut deeper than any blade. “Of all the boys and men conscripted from our village… you’re the only one who made it back. The rest are either missing, presumed dead, or worse.”

My throat tightened. I’d suspected as much, but hearing it aloud settled it in stone.

She continued, “Word of the Empire’s fall has been spreading for some time now. A few messengers from the larger towns came through last week with news. The local lord refuses to send men for protection. Bandits roam freely, and even the wild beasts have been acting strangely. Wan Peng… he’s thinking of moving the village, maybe to the next city.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

She looked at me with furrowed brows, so I explained everything. “I took the forest route back. It should’ve been faster, but I was ambushed by the jiangshi. That’s how I got injured. They weren’t the stiff corpse puppets from the tales. They were fast, trained, and intelligent enough to set a trap. Traveling right now is more dangerous than staying put.”

Mom paled slightly at the word jiangshi. She didn’t interrupt, just listened as I went on.

“I didn’t return straight home. I had to take detours. No map, no compass… just landmarks and guesswork. I stopped at a few villages, passed a few outposts, and tried to get my bearings. What I saw along the way…” I shook my head. “A lot of them had become ghost towns... Occasionally, I would encounter a few people. It was bad. Civilized folk turning on each other over stale bread. Some became bandits, others were just lost. I even saw wild beasts coming too close to the roads, eyes glowing like they were possessed. The bandits and beasts were nothing to me, easy enough to deal with, but what’s worrying is the unpredictability of it all... I... I... It's tough, Mom..."

Just then, the door creaked open. Da Ji returned first, carrying a small tray with steaming cups of tea. Behind her stepped a tall man with a heavy gait and eyes like sharpened flint. He wore a feathered headdress and bore the expression of someone who didn’t waste words. Wan Peng, chief of Willow Village, had arrived.

I made the effort to stand, forcing myself upright against the protests in my muscles. But Wan Peng held out a hand and said, “Be at ease, little Wei. You’ve done more than enough already.”

Dad appeared shortly after, dragging a worn wooden chair across the floor and placing it beside my cot for the chief. He looked exhausted, sweat sticking to his collar and dampening the sleeves of his tunic. “I came as fast as I could when I heard,” he said. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, and I winced. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Wan Peng lowered himself onto the chair, hands folded. “So,” he began, voice low and even, “what is it you saw out there?”

I met his gaze. This wasn’t a time for half-truths or softened edges. They deserved to know everything, even if it terrified them. Because it terrified me.

“There’s more than just a fallen Empire,” I said. “There’s something else out there now. Something worse. And if we don’t prepare, we’re going to be swept aside like dust in a storm.”

“Explain,” Chief Wan Peng demanded.

I stared at the lines in the wooden ceiling, took a deep breath, and considered what I could share. I’d kept a lot hidden from the squadron… Things I told myself were too heavy, too strange, and too dangerous to speak aloud. But now? I wasn’t a soldier anymore. I wasn’t under Imperial command, or any command for that matter. There was no point in hiding the truth.

So I told him.

I told Wan Peng everything that mattered. About the Heavenly Demon my squadron fought, a being whose very presence bent the natural laws, who wielded powers I couldn’t explain, who tore through our squad like they were wheat before a scythe. I spoke of the jiangshi who moved with unnatural fluidity, capable of martial discipline no corpse should retain. I told him about the fanatic in golden robes, the one who screamed “Glory to the Yama King!” before exploding in a burst of gore and poison, nearly taking me with him.

I left out the part where I summoned a Holy Spirit, and the full nature of my powers. I didn’t mention that this world was a prison and we were all prisoners. That truth would only breed despair. But I said more than enough to make the weight of what was coming clear.

“They’re not just random threats,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “This isn’t just an unstable era after the Empire’s fall. The rules of the world are changing. Supernatural powers, ancient entities, forgotten forces… they're all surfacing again. There’s no peace to return to. Just a storm that hasn’t fully hit us yet.”

Chief Wan Peng was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine. Then, slowly, he nodded. “It sounds like we’ve returned to the era of myths,” he said, voice low and contemplative.

I clenched my fists at my side. “I’m not lying,” I snapped, louder than I intended. The bitterness in my chest boiled up without warning. “I know how it sounds, but I nearly died out there!"

Wan Peng raised a hand, calm and without offense. “I believe you.”

That surprised me.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice steady. “Willow Village didn’t start as a peaceful farming settlement. We were once hunters… not just of game, but of demonic beasts. That was a long time ago, back when Immortals still walked the world, or so the stories said. I never took those tales too seriously. But lately… with what I’ve seen and what I’ve heard…” He let the sentence trail. “I’m no fool. The world is changing.”

He stood then, back straight and proud, though I saw the weight in his eyes. “Tomorrow, we migrate to the next city. We’ll pack up what we can carry. The city walls may not be the safest thing, but it’s something. We’ll hope they let us in.”

I frowned. There was something in his tone that unsettled me. Too much hope, and not enough certainty.

“Chief,” I said, slowly, “I don’t think you understand how bad it’s going to get. Cities might not be any safer than the wilds soon. You could walk into a trap, or worse… walk into a city that’s already gone mad.”

He gave me a small, grim smile. “Maybe. But staying still is the same as death. At least moving gives us a chance.”