Immortal Paladin

200 Ezekiel

The roar of gunfire echoed across the frozen air, the acrid stench of gunpowder clinging to the inside of my nose. Smoke swirled in chaotic gusts as volleys of bullets and cannon shells exploded into the sea of demonic beasts surging below. A rough estimate put their number at a thousand, and that was just the northern front. Fortunately, Wen Yuhan’s foresight had prepared us; nearly all our rifles, cannons, and warriors were stationed on this side.

“Fire!” bellowed the captain assigned to the second cannon, his voice nearly drowned in the thunderous roar of simultaneous blasts. Each cannon had its own captain, just like each rifle squad. It was a system I lifted from Earth’s old world, albeit with trial and error, since even Nongmin, who had rediscovered gunpowder, hadn’t made use of structured volley fire. Back then, I never fully grasped the historical importance of synchronized volleys. Now, watching lines of trained riflemen reload and fire in rhythm, I understood: it was about force in unity, about replacing pinpoint precision with sheer, overwhelming volume.

Our shots were landing, no doubt about it. The charge slowed, the ground littered with twitching corpses and scorched fur. Yet, the beasts continued to advance, propelled not by rage but by something darker.

Wen Yuhan muttered, “Their vitality is immense. Even worse, their undead state means we aren’t really killing them. You can’t kill what’s already dead.”

“Dragon’s Fire!” I roared, my voice bolstered by Lion’s Roar.

Dozens of villagers hurled glass bottles filled with oil and flame from the ramparts. On Earth, we called them Molotov cocktails. Here, the name stuck as Dragon’s Fire… less confusing that way. Every time someone asked who Molotov was, I could only shrug. The cocktail part was easier to explain, but Molotov? No idea. Some guy who liked burning things, maybe.

The fire spread quickly, flickering orange and crimson under the pale winter moon. It licked across the beasts’ fur and bones, consuming them in defiance of snow and frost. Still, the undead came. Some stumbled into pits we’d dug ahead of time, traps laid by the hunters days ago. It thinned their numbers, but…

“That won’t be enough,” Wen Yuhan said with cool certainty.

The horde pressed forward, and soon they were at the base of the wall. Some slammed their massive bodies against the stone, cracking the surface. Others began to climb. A serpentine beast, wind-imbued and lightning-fast, slithered up past the defenses, its jaws wide. I caught it mid-air, gripped its cold throat, and squeezed until I heard the wet crack of its spine.

“Switch to melee!” I shouted.

My voice carried, and the defenders obeyed. We had trained for this. Ranged combat ended once the wall was breached or when the beasts began scaling the surface. Inside the wall were narrow slits for rifles, but the top was open ground. The cannon crews abandoned their posts, drawing shields and spears.

Everyone on the wall had reached at least the Martial Tempering Realm. That had been my requirement. I’d taught them only two techniques: Shield Bash and War Smite. No complicated internal meridian cycling, no delicate finger positioning… just raw and direct power. These techniques didn’t kill outright, but they sent enemies flying. That was all we needed.

The battle atop the wall turned brutal. A wild boar, its spine exposed and rotting, lunged at a woman. She intercepted with a crushing shield bash, sending the beast tumbling back into the swarm below. Another man, lean and steady, used his spear to pin a charging wolf-beast to the stone before smiting its skull into pulp.

I moved among them like a ghost of fire and steel, slamming beasts aside, protecting gaps, issuing corrections. I had seen war before, on a grander scale in the Hollowed World. But this… this was different. These people weren’t trained soldiers. They were farmers, smiths, and hunters. And yet, they held the line.

“HOLD YOUR POSITION! REPEL THE DEMONIC BEASTS!”

The clash of steel and the roars of monsters filled the air. I brandished my blade, cutting through the tide of demonic beasts that pressed upon the wall. Their forms were grotesque and varied from snakes with four legs, cats with too many eyes, and wolves with jaws unhinged and weeping pus. I cut through them all, not because I was faster or more clever, but because I had to be stronger. There was no one else up here who could match these monsters when they surged with such unnatural resilience.

My sword sank deep into the ribcage of a bison-sized hound, splitting bone and flesh with practiced ease. I didn’t pause to admire the kill. A raccoon-shaped beast, its claws slick with someone’s blood, leapt at one of the young guards. I turned and cleaved it mid-air, splitting it from snout to tail before it could touch the boy. These weren’t wild beasts anymore, but more like puppets. They shouldn’t have been able to climb the wall, not with their massive frames and gnarled limbs. And yet, they did. Some scaled it with the ease of lizards. That’s when I realized it.

“They’ve been modified,” I muttered. “Spells are lightening them, giving them the adhesive ability to cling and climb. That’s the Yama King’s work. Has to be.”

The thought made my blood run colder than the air around us.

“REPORT! REPORT!”

A young man, carrying a knife, cleaved his way in my direction.

“The southern wall is in trouble, they breached through!”

I used my Divine Sense, amplified it with Qi, and honed my senses.

A portion of the southern wall collapsed under the weight of corrupted mammoths, their tusks dripping with turbulent qi. The beasts poured through the breach like floodwater. Cries rose behind us.

“Let me deal with it,” Wen Yuhan said, her tone unusually soft amidst the chaos.

I didn’t even turn. My blade found another mark on a fox-beast with chitinous skin, and split it open. “No,” I answered firmly. “I need you at full strength for something else. You already know that. Da Ji will handle this breach.”

A massive elk charged, antlers blazing with spectral fire. I intercepted it with a backhand War Smite, shattering its skull and sending it crashing into its own kind. Wen Yuhan stepped past the corpse elegantly, though her robes were already soaked in blood.

“You’ve foreseen everything up until this moment,” I said, my voice quieter now. “And everything is going exactly as your vision told you. The only part that remains uncertain is the fight with the Yama King. That’s the one thing not even your Eyes can unravel. So let’s not panic now. Let’s trust the process.”

She gave a thin smile, more weary than pleased. “I already told you, didn’t I? My abilities are shackled by the rules of this False Earth. I can see the patterns, yes, but I cannot change the threads. The people that are meant to die… they will die. I’ve tried before. No matter what action I take, the outcome snaps back into place like an iron spring. The longer we think things are stable, the more brutal the reversal when fate corrects its course. The butterfly’s wings are already flapping.”

A shadow passed under my feet. Without hesitation, I jumped, just in time to avoid a giant mantis bursting out of the stone. I hurled my sword mid-air, embedding it into its head, and it collapsed with a crunch of chitin and dirt. I landed, retrieved my weapon, and looked back at her.

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“You keep telling me the same thing,” I said, panting through my words, “and I always listen. But why? Why do you keep repeating it?”

Her eyes caught mine, and there was something distant in them. “Maybe I just don’t want you to expect too much. Lower your expectations, Da Wei. It hurts less that way.”

I nodded slowly, picked up my sword for a heartbeat, and used Flash Step to reappear beside a jaguar-shaped corpse still twitching. I finished it with a stomp, then turned back toward her with a cryptic smile. “Noted. Also… I know you’ve been lying to me since the start. Just wanted to let you know ahead of time. So you lower your expectations, too.”

That caught her off guard. She blinked, then smirked. “You have a way with words. Is that your subtle way of saying you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

“Could be.”

Wen Yuhan dodged a demonic bear’s claw swipe. The swipe struck the panther instead, which let out a screech before collapsing. Just as the bear raised its head, a massive tongue shot out from the mouth of a bloated frog, aiming for Wen Yuhan. She sidestepped, and the tongue instead latched onto the bear’s flank. A moment later, the bear convulsed, veins blackening, then collapsed in a heap.

Before the frog could retract its tongue, a rhinoceros-shaped monstrosity barreled through the mess in an attempt to strike Wen Yuhan, but missed by a hair. It slammed directly into the frog, whose bloated body popped like a spoiled fruit, splashing gore across the battlefield. The rhino, now coated in the frog’s poison, stumbled two steps before collapsing in turn.

She flicked blood off her sleeve and arched a brow. “It’s as if the world doesn’t want me dead.”

“Don’t play coy now,” I muttered, driving my sword into the skull of a demonic ape with fangs like obsidian daggers. Blood sprayed up, thick and dark like oil. Another beast, something resembling a deer fused with a centipede, tried to rush me, but I sidestepped and cleaved its legs in one smooth arc. As it screeched and fell, I couldn’t help but think back to the uncanny “accidents” earlier. The way beasts fell from friendly fire, as though they’d been maneuvered into killing one another. It wasn’t luck. No, Wen Yuhan didn’t deal in coincidence.

Just like she manipulated these beasts, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were playing the other prisoners the same way. This wasn’t just a war; it was a game. A test. A bloodied stage where cultivators clawed their way to freedom. Somewhere in the unspoken rules, I’d pieced together the truth: this place was a crucible, a battle royale. The last few standing would reach a height high enough to tear through the fabric of this fake world and return to the real one.

“He’s here,” Wen Yuhan said.

I turned sharply toward the southern fields, beyond the ruin and haze of flame and blood. There, in the distance, a square formation of soldiers approached like a wall of iron and resolve. Their armor gleamed with the chill of the moonlight, and their steps moved as one. No beast moved to block their way. They were the Yama King's army!

A soldier beside me clutched his shield and spear, something he recovered from the dead soldier. He had been the one to bring news of the breach. I caught his eye and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Finish the evacuation. Spread the word. It’s time.”

His pupils widened in understanding. “Yes, sir!” he shouted, then dropped his shield and spear, summoning Zealot’s Stride. His form blurred as he dashed across the parapet like a streak of lightning.

I watched him go and turned to Wen Yuhan. “Help with the evacuation of the remaining soldiers. You know what comes next. The final phase of the plan.”

She met my gaze and nodded, her expression uncharacteristically solemn. “Until then.”

Without another word, I jumped off the wall. Wind rushed against me, cold and sharp. Below, demonic beasts gathered like an ocean of rage and claws, eager to devour anything that moved. A snake with ice crystals on its back struck as I descended, its fangs missing me by inches. I spun in midair and lopped off its head. Another beast tried to leap up from the horde, a tiger with flame wreathed along its spine, but I split it down the middle before its jaws could close.

“Are we really doing this?” came Jue Bu’s voice, emerging from deep within my consciousness. “You’re about to lose a massive chunk of your lifespan, you mad bastard!”

I grinned despite the chaos. “Just get ready, you perverted bones.” I have a plan, and it definitely didn't involve me dying.

Jue Bu laughed, the kind of laugh only an ancient undead spirit could make, bitter, triumphant, and laced with madness. “I can’t believe it. You’re finally entrusting your life to me. The infamous Da Wei, the so-called God of War, giving his soul to bones. What an honor!”

“Shut up and focus,” I growled.

Before I hit the swarm, I pressed both palms together, gathering divine energy into my core. White light spilled from my fingers, and the world trembled beneath me. I cast the spell I had long sealed away, the one that came with a price no sane man would pay.

“Summon: Holy Spirit.”

The earth cracked. Blinding radiance erupted from the heavens as the sky split open, and down from the rift came enormous, skeletal wings composed of holy bone and gilded light. They cast shadows across the battlefield, immense and divine. Bones as white as snow spiraled down, assembling themselves midair with impossible precision.

They wrapped around me, shielding me just as I struck the ground. Dozens of demonic beasts were vaporized on contact. The wave of holy pressure alone shattered those too weak to flee.

And then, from within the shell of light, came the voice of my companion, my reluctant partner.

“Ezekiel,” Jue Bu intoned, his voice echoing not from my mind but from the earth, the sky, and the marrow of every bone that answered his call. “For a shoddy modified spell, this sure is tacky~! Ha ha ha ha ha~!

“Don’t ruin it.”

Ezekiel.

A towering skeletal avatar of divine energy wrapped around me like a colossal second body. From within his ribcage, I stood at the core, tethered to every motion he made.

It was no ordinary spirit, and no simple construct. He stood over twenty meters tall, a massive winged skeleton wreathed in divine light that shimmered with scripture etched into bone. His skull was crowned with a halo of burning gold, and twin pinions of ivory extended from his back, each feather formed from sharpened ribs and ancient femurs. Despite his grotesque form, he radiated an aura of overwhelming sanctity. The irony was blinding.

This… was Jue Bu’s masterpiece. A perverted, battle-hungry undead cultivator with a penchant for throwing salacious remarks… and here he was, now fully embodied within a holy construct so sacred it could have passed for a divine emissary.

The spell was my own modification. The base came from “Summon: Holy Spirit,” one of the last divine spells I’d learned back on LLO, but I’d twisted it and reshaped it through the filter of Jue Bu’s Immortal Art: Reversal of Heaven and Earth. I took everything holy and merged it with what was dead, transmuting contradiction into power. That contradiction was Ezekiel.

It made me wonder just a little what Jue Bu’s story was. What sort of lunatic did you have to be to die, come back, and decide to master both death and holiness? For an undead spirit to wield divine spells with such finesse… Yeah. That was the kind of tale I’d like to hear eventually.

I felt the tether snap into place. Ezekiel’s ribcage pulsed with divine light as qi surged through our connection. In this form, I was no longer simply at the Mind Enlightenment. No. The spell elevated me. With Ezekiel as my mount and anchor, I could function at the level of a Will Reinforcement Realm cultivator, at least for as long as my lifespan held out. A high price, but not too high. Not for this.

The demonic beasts didn’t hesitate. They charged as one, driven by fury and reanimation spells that bent their will to the Yama King’s command. Their growls mixed with the shriek of corrupted qi. They were strong, no doubt, but they were still only at Martial Tempering.

Too weak.

I raised my hands and began casting. “Armor of the Indomitable.” A shell of golden light enveloped me, reinforcing my body with divine strength.

“Sacred Bulwark.” A shimmering barrier snapped into place before me, deflecting a charging hellhound’s claws.

“Blessed Weapon.” My sword lit up with radiant heat, its blade now wrapped in celestial fire.

“Holy Sanctuary.” A dome of sanctified space burst into existence around me, cleansing and shielding all within.

“Holy Aura.” My very presence began to burn the undead nearby, the light of the divine seeping into every crevice of the battlefield.

While I chanted and cast, Ezekiel moved like a predator let loose from the heavens. His massive hands, tipped with bones sharp as blades, shredded those foolish enough to leap at him. One beast, a bear twisted with additional limbs, was hurled dozens of meters by a backhand from Ezekiel, its body breaking like dry bark.

And then, with a deep breath, I channeled the final spell.

“Mass Turn Undead.”

The spell surged outward like a divine explosion. A wave of pure light burst from me, radiating in all directions. The effect was immediate. The demonic beasts raised through necromantic means froze. Their limbs twitched. Their eyes burned blue for a second, then extinguished.

They crumbled into ash.

One breath. That was all it took.

The battlefield quieted. Those not struck down by the spell stumbled in confusion, their cohesion breaking apart.

I exhaled and looked up at Ezekiel, whose skull had tilted down to observe me with hollow sockets that glowed faintly with approval or mockery. It was hard to tell with him.

Jue Bu’s voice echoed inside my head. “Hah! See? You might just make a proper necromancer yet.”

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I’m a paladin, damn it.”

He laughed. “Labels are for the living, Da Wei.”

I lifted my sword once more, the holy light still burning on its edge. There was more to come. The Yama King had arrived.

But I was ready.