Immortal Paladin

262 Scales Upon the Sky

Tao Long’s voice carried into my head through the tether of the Animal Soul, uneasy and strained. “What exactly do you mean I wouldn’t like it?” His tone had that edge of forced composure, as if he already suspected my answer yet still hoped otherwise.

I exhaled, rubbing my temple as I glanced at the mountain of documents still waiting on my desk. “It means you’ll have to trust me,” I told him firmly, leaving no space for doubt. “Only this way will I be able to save your life and make sure those Heavenly Temple bastards don’t walk away with an easy victory.”

There was silence on his end, but the emotions bleeding through the Animal Soul were enough. I could sense the tension in his chest, the way his pulse quickened, the flicker of hesitation and unease that coiled into my own thoughts. The bond gave me more than a voice; it gave me the weight of his fears and the sharp edge of his disbelief. Even so, he did not protest outright, which was about as much trust as I could ask for under the circumstances.

Drawing deeper into his perspective, I immersed myself fully into the Animal Soul. The sight that greeted me nearly made me curse out loud. The ridges and valleys stretched wide with an ocean of white-robed soldiers, their formation so disciplined it seemed less like men and more like a tide rolling down from the heavens themselves. The mountain range that should have belonged to Shouquan’s protection was now drowned beneath that flood. Sacred beasts prowled alongside their masters, tigers with pelts like lightning, serpents coiling with divine fire, hawks circling with blades of wind at their wings.

But it wasn’t merely the spectacle that unsettled me. It was the weight of their cultivation. The average soldier carried themselves with the pressure of the Seventh Realm, something most sects would prize in their elders, and here they were marching by the thousands as if they were common infantry. On the fringes of their lines lingered presences that reached higher still, masters brushing against the Tenth Realm, keeping their aura restrained but unmistakable. I found myself wondering just how deep the resources of the Heavenly Temple truly went. To gather such a host of power in one place was beyond belief… It was obscene.

I pulled away from Tao Long’s perspective with a grim set to my jaw. The tether of the Animal Soul weakened as I returned to the weight of my own body. Alice glanced up at me from the pile of scrolls she was sorting through, one brow arching.

“I’m going to be busy for a while,” I said, already preparing the technique in my mind. “But I’ll be back.”

“As for the expedition to the Empire?”

“We’ll talk more about the details once I’m back.”

With a thought, I called back my Asura Soul and Ghost Soul from their wandering within the territory, their presences folding neatly into me as if expecting what was to come. Finally, I triggered Castling. In an instant, the world shifted, my body trading places with Tao Long’s across the tether, dragging me directly into the sacred mountain of Ward.

The Arch Gate loomed behind me like a wounded sentinel, its ancient stone carved with scars both old and fresh. Before me stretched the army of the Heavenly Temple, white robes shifting in the snowfall like a tide of purity that masked only bloodlust and conquest. The snow fell in a light, steady pour, veiling the land in a deceptive calm, but the ruins around me told another story… The remnants of what once had been the headquarters of Ward. Shattered walls, broken towers, and scorched ground whispered of Tao Long’s lonely defense, the times he had stood here alone and denied the enemy their claim to the Arch Gate.

I inhaled, the bitter air burning down my throat, and let Quintessence flow through me. My robes shimmered, reforming into the attire of the Wandering Adjudicator. A weight settled onto my shoulders as the ethereal green cape unfurled in the wind, swaying with the snowfall. Blue armor traced with gold linings enclosed my body, radiant yet grim. With a single lifted hand, I summoned the helm, the visor locking into place across my face. Shadows and light danced across its surface, hiding my expression, but not my intent. My gaze sharpened, and with it, I invoked Holy Smite.

Across the battlefield, multiple soldiers faltered as luminous halos blazed above their heads. They cried out, scrambling as if the heavens themselves had condemned them. From those halos descended countless arrows of pure radiance, each one woven with Quintessence, searing through flesh, armor, and spirit alike. Their cries echoed in the mountains as the snow turned dark with falling blood.

What were my thoughts on slaughter? That it was bad, an act that eroded one’s soul no matter how justified the reason. Yet at the same time, I understood it was necessary. Did that make me a hypocrite for condemning the “Cleanse,” that old horror the Four Powers had committed before the Sundering of the Summit, when they wiped out entire peoples under the guise of survival? I didn’t know. Maybe it did. But what I did know was this… I would regret it my entire life if I stood idle, watching the world be broken and the people devoured. Hypocrisy mattered little compared to cowardice.

“Hold formation!” one commander shouted, voice breaking against the storm of holy light.

“Advance! Charge, damn you, charge!” another bellowed, desperation cracking through his orders.

“Take cover, find cover!” a third voice screamed, though there was little shelter against my Smite. Soldiers ducked low, raised barriers of qi, or simply threw themselves forward in a rush of false courage, their voices mingling into a cacophony of fear and resolve.

I let the din rise, then drew in my breath, shaping my qi into words. With the weight of Lion’s Roar woven into Qi Speech, my voice rolled across the battlefield like thunder itself.

“I am Da Wei, the Unholy Taint, the one who Sundered the Summit. Flee my sight if you wish for survival. Come at me if you seek death. This will be your last warning.”

The snow fell heavier, blanketing the ruined land, as my words settled like a decree upon every soul who still stood against me.

Yet, they marched.

Of course, they didn’t listen. The moment my words faded, the soldiers broke into a sprinting march, boots pounding against the snow like a single relentless drum. Their banners shook, sacred beasts roared, and the tide of white surged forward to swallow me whole.

I exhaled and stretched out my hand. In the next instant, Soulsunderer materialized, its immense frame more akin to a nodachi than any common greatsword. Its edge glimmered with a light that was not light, a reflection of something far older, sharper, and crueler. I had quite a collection of legendary weapons tucked away, trophies and tools of past victories, but I avoided wielding most of them whenever I could. Not because of their strength, but because of their stories. Their lore was soaked in malice, and I had learned firsthand how “flavor text” could twist into something real in this world, evolving these weapons into reflections of their curses.

Soulsunderer was the worst of them all. A blade forged to sever not only flesh, but the very essence of gods and mortals alike. Its lore claimed it had no greater desire than to sunder the soul of its wielder, to gnaw at the foundation of whoever dared to grasp its hilt. Against mortals, it was devastatingly effective; against me, an Ascended Soul bound with multiple souls, I held confidence that if it tried to betray me, I had more than one soul to spare. Still, as I tightened my grip, I could feel all of my souls quake, even those I had bestowed on others.

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“If you think your cause is worth your souls, then fine.”

By drawing Soulsunderer, I had all but guaranteed the soldiers before me would never see reincarnation. That knowledge sat heavy in my chest. Was I truly so heartless as to wield it? Perhaps. But the truth was harsher… I wasn’t heartless enough. I would not let their souls vanish without cause, nor would I let them be fodder for this Temple’s conquest. If there was a price to pay for picking up this cursed blade, then it would fall on me, not them.

I raised the weapon, its edge singing with hunger, and let Quintessence surge through me. With a thought, I reached for the two souls I still carried. Their essence were bright and unyielding even within me. Drawing on them as my core, I invoked the art that had long burned in my veins.

“Holy Sword.”

Two luminous swords flared into existence, radiant arcs of brilliance that whirled into orbit around me. They were more than constructs of energy; they bore presence, a will that pressed against my own, distinct and recognizable. One radiated with a solemn weight, calm and resolute, while the other pulsed with a fiercer, sharper rhythm, like a heart beating for war. Perhaps this was the influence of deviation, the mark of individuality within my spawned souls. Whatever the reason, they were no longer mere extensions of me… They were companions, voices in steel and light, standing with me against the flood.

The army roared closer.

The Asura Sword trembled in orbit, hungry for release. I cast Thunderous Smite, and the blade howled forward like a storm unchained. Lightning split the snowstorm apart, shredding an entire rank of soldiers into charred husks before they even had time to scream. The smell of ozone and burnt flesh clung to the wind.

The Ghost Sword followed, and with it I invoked Searing Smite. Fire blossomed in a violent curtain, consuming shields and flesh alike. The snow became steam, and their orderly march collapsed into chaos as men and women cried out, clutching their faces and armor while flames ate at their skin.

That was when the true threats stirred. The Tenth Realm cultivators… sixteen of them in all. I counted their signatures one by one, each carrying an oppressive weight that even the Empire at its height could not have mustered. Sixteen… the Heavenly Temple’s arrogance bordered on lunacy, but the fact they could field such numbers chilled me more than the snow ever could.

I turned just as a ripple disturbed the air to my left. My hand shot out and closed around a throat that should not have been there. A woman in black froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had believed her stealth technique was untouchable, a perfect cloak. I gave her a smile that wasn’t one, then crushed her skull in my palm with Monkey Grip, spraying gore into the white snow.

To my right, a swordsman blurred into existence, his speed distorting the air itself. Above, a portal yawned wide, and a burly warrior descended with a massive hammer, spells woven into its head like threads of fire. Both lunged in unison.

“Fast,” I muttered, raising Soulsunderer.

I met the swordsman’s first strike with Flash Parry, sparks dancing across the steel. At the same time, I cast Sacred Bulwark, my qi surging outward to coat me in luminous light. The effect was immediate: their own force rebounded, burning them with reflected damage.

The hammer fell with a roar. I drew World Aegis, the tower shield blooming into existence, and braced. The impact resounded like thunder. The warrior staggered back as the force bounced, cracks spreading through the portal above. The swordsman pressed harder, his speed multiplying until he became little more than streaks of silver light.

I dismissed the shield and whispered, “Armor of the Indomitable.”

The spell tightened around my body, every blow adding to my defense. Strike after strike rang out in shrieking clangs of metal meeting metal. Then his rhythm faltered. The instant his speed waned, my hand shot forward, seizing him by the throat.

Before I could finish him, another portal bloomed. A ghostly figure veiled in mist reached through, laying a hand upon the swordsman. His body shimmered, phased, and in the blink of an eye, both were gone.

I snarled. “Not yet.”

I dismissed the Asura Sword, freeing the connection, and in that heartbeat, invoked Divine Possession on the fleeing swordsman. My will surged through the tether before they could vanish entirely.

The hammer warrior reappeared to my right from another portal, fury burning in his eyes. His weapon blazed with flames and enchantments as he swung with devastating force. I met it with Blessed Weapon, Soulsunderer’s edge glowing with consecrated light. Another Flash Parry redirected the blow, and before the warrior could recover, I poured everything into Divine Smite.

The great sword cleaved through him, splitting armor, flesh, and soul alike. His roar choked into silence as his body collapsed in two flaming halves.

From a distance, the sky split open. A colossal scale erupted into being, tilting across the heavens as I activated Final Adjudication through the swordsman still bound under my possession. Chains of holy fire lashed outward, crossing miles in an instant. The ground quaked, and the snowstorm stilled. Soldiers screamed as their bodies turned to ash, while others combusted, flames devouring them alive as their qi crumbled under judgment.

Above, the heavens dimmed, blackening as though the world itself bore witness to my decree.

Through the eyes of the possessed swordsman, I watched the battlefield twist into a frenzy. Blades, spells, and strikes from multiple directions converged upon me… or rather, upon him… as the Tenth Realm cultivators tried desperately to break the tether of my Divine Possession. They moved in ruthless coordination, sacrificing distance and timing for sheer weight of assault, hoping that even if they could not slay him outright, they could fracture the spell I was weaving through him.

From my main body, I merely raised a hand. Quintessence surged through me, and the heavens themselves groaned as I invoked Heavenly Punishment. Dark clouds above split like a curtain of night pulled apart, revealing a burning radiance. A colossal golden divine sword began to descend, its edge gleaming with annihilation. The chosen target, a man whose aura dwarfed the others, a mountain of qi and bloodline strength, barely had time to scream before the blade struck. His body and soul incinerated in a heartbeat, leaving only a crater where he had stood. The ground itself was scorched black, steam hissing from molten earth.

The moment he was gone, the other Tenth Realm cultivators faltered. Their strikes wavered, their coordination broke, and for the first time, I saw the mask of confidence crack.

They were putting up a good fight, I thought, watching their frantic movements through the swordsman’s eyes. But it wasn’t enough. They were strong, yes, but against me? Against judgment itself? Their struggle looked like ants gnashing at a flood. Perhaps I wouldn’t even need to resort to that ‘mad idea’ I had kept in the corner of my mind.

Their voices reached me, scattered and sharp with panic:

“Hold him down… stop the spell at all costs!”

“Where’s the hammer-bearer?! He was supposed to stall him—!”

“Heavenly Punishment… that was Heavenly Punishment! How could he call that down so easily?!”

“If he casts again, we’re finished! Someone break the possession, now!”

Their desperation was almost amusing. I let the swordsman’s lips curl faintly, though it was my will behind the smile. Watching them scramble only deepened the certainty that victory was already mine.

From my main body, I extended my perception outward. Their figures darted between fire and smoke, still thinking themselves hidden behind formations of qi and veils of concealment. But I had seen them. I always saw.

My Ghost Sword trembled, eager for blood. I directed it silently, mentally guiding its orbit until it flew toward the cluster of cultivators. Their little gathering was not as secret as they believed.

And then, calmly, I reached for another tether. I canceled Ghost Sword and extended my will into the next strongest among them. My Ghost Soul pierced his defenses before he even realized the trap, binding his essence like a moth impaled upon a pin.

“Your turn,” I murmured.

Through his body, I began the Ultimate Spell. The world shuddered in response.

A second scale of judgment erupted across the heavens, vast and merciless. Its golden chains lashed outward, blotting the battlefield in divine radiance. Shadows fled, the soldiers screamed, and panic erupted anew as the great balance descended to weigh their lives.

The scale blazed brighter than the first, its vast plates hanging in the heavens like a divine tribunal dragged into the mortal world. Chains lashed downward in arcs of golden fire, and the moment they touched earth, men screamed.

The Seventh Realm soldiers who had marched with such discipline only moments before broke immediately. Rows shattered, formation lines disintegrated. Some tried to flee but burst into ash the instant the chains grazed them. Others were left writhing on the ground, their souls tearing loose in fiery strands, drawn upward into the scale.

I felt their terror ripple through the air, an army’s will collapsing in real time.

“He’s… he’s calling down another judgment!” one of them shrieked.

“No! No, not again! The first one already—”

“We can’t win this! Retreat! Retreat!”

Cultivators who had once held their heads high scrambled like common mortals, throwing away weapons, tearing off armor, anything to flee faster. Yet the scale did not care for their desperation. It weighed them all the same.

Panic became a disease that spread through every rank. Some shouted prayers to the Heavenly Temple, others cursed their masters for leading them here. More than a few tried to rally, screaming orders to restore the line, but their words drowned beneath the thunder of chains and the cries of the damned.

“I told you so,” I said, unable to help it. “Should’ve run when you had the chance.”