Immortal Paladin

287 An Inferior’s Defiance

[POV: Lei Jia]

Lei Jia’s ruined eye shimmered with sulfuric embers, the gore knitting back into flesh as though the wound had never been there. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the punishment she had inflicted on Zhu Guanting. His gasps filled the chamber as the boils shrank, his skin smoothed, and his body stopped convulsing. He collapsed on the marble floor, clutching at his chest, drenched in sweat but alive.

Her attention, however, remained fixed on the unconscious figure of Yuen Fu. The warrior’s frame was thin, scarred, and starved, yet the spirit within him had blazed brighter than anything she had witnessed in years. His sword forms, raw and incomplete, had carried the possibility of Martial Ascension. That such brilliance could exist in a body stripped of cultivation was both irritating and intoxicating. She pressed a clawed fingertip against her lips and clicked her tongue in quiet annoyance.

Her mind strayed to Jue Bu’s warning. “If you think the Heavenly Temple is your ally, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Lei Jia exhaled slowly, letting the words coil around her thoughts like smoke. She distrusted Jue Bu as one might distrust a snake smiling from the shadows, yet the truth in his statement gnawed at her. The Heavenly Temple claimed dominion over virtue and law, but to her eyes, they were no different from any tyrant who wrapped chains in gold.

Still, wariness did not mean avoidance. There was merit in extending a hand to them, if only to see what they truly sought. If she surrendered ‘Da Wei’ to the Heavenly Temple, she’d finally be able to rid herself of this world and appeal to the grace of a Prince of Hell. Yet curiosity pricked at her sharper than caution. Who was this Da Wei, to raise warriors like Yuen Fu who fought with the echoes of forgotten saints? Who was he to warrant the Heavenly Temple’s pursuit?

She thought of Jue Bu again, of his false smiles and slippery promises. He had failed to give her answers, feeding her riddles and bargains instead of truths. And now, this youth, this unbending, unyielding, broken toy who refused her invitation? He too denied her. Lei Jia’s lips curved into a wry smile. The refusal did not anger her; it intrigued her.

“No,” she murmured to herself, her demonic eyes narrowing. “I will not kill him yet. He may scream, resist, and curse my name, but he will breathe. He will live until he becomes useful. And when Da Wei comes for him, then…” Her voice trailed into silence, leaving the unspoken possibilities to hang heavy in the air.

Zhu Guanting, still trembling, pressed his forehead against the cold floor. His voice broke as he dared to speak. “Your Majesty, Demon King of Fiery Vapor… thank you for your boundless mercy. I swear my loyalty again, and again, until my last breath.”

Lei Jia turned away from the battered figure of Yuen Fu, her robes rustling as she strode toward her throne. “Take care of him,” she commanded in a measured voice. “No need to break him anymore. Indulge him. Let him be fed, and corrupt him if you must. In ten years’ time, we shall see what he will become—”

Her words halted mid-sentence.

Behind her, a sound rose faintly, soft as a dying ember struggling to live. Yuen Fu’s lips were moving. His body lay limp, his eyes closed, yet whispers spilled out between shallow breaths. Zhu Guanting blinked in confusion, pressing a hand against his wounded side. “He’s… praying.”

The murmurs grew distinct, each syllable drawn with desperate conviction.

“O Great Guard… hear me. I am unworthy, yet I lift my voice to you. Through blood, through despair, through this broken shell, I call upon your light. I am bound, yet I will not yield. I am torn, yet I will not turn. My soul is yours to shape. My blade is yours to wield. My life is yours to take. I am Yuen Fu… your dedicated servant.”

The prayer struck the air like thunder. Quintessence surged violently around Yuen Fu, a storm breaking from the core of his soul. The iron collar at his throat screeched as fissures crawled across its surface before shattering into fragments. Light poured from his chest, searing gold and white, burning away the shadows of the chamber.

Lei Jia stiffened, her pupils narrowing at the sight of Divine Intervention. She had not seen it since the age when the Ruler of Laws still roamed the Greater Universe freely. And now, here, in her own hall, in the body of a half-starved mortal? Impossible! Unacceptable!

From Yuen Fu’s hand coalesced a sword. It pulsed with his aura, his sword intent, and the mastery of a thousand battles endured through blood and torment.

Zhu Guanting snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “Her Majesty has shown you favor again and again, yet you dare draw your sword? You insolent fool!”

His roar cut short. In less than a blink, Yuen Fu moved. A single swing tore through the air, too swift for even Zhu Guanting’s eyes to follow. His left arm fell to the ground, severed cleanly at the shoulder.

Zhu Guanting’s scream filled the chamber, raw and trembling. “H-how?!” His face twisted with disbelief. His perception told him the boy stood at nothing more than the Fifth Realm, his cultivation crippled, and his meridians ruined.

Lei Jia, unlike him, understood. She felt the pulse in the air, the resonance of another Path beneath the Longevity every demon knew. Yuen Fu had touched the Transcendent Path, stepping into its entry realm, Legend.

Her lips curved downward in thought. Demons of the Hell Realm had long known the Transcendent Path was superior in its purity, but even they dared not deny the strength of one who walked both roads at once. The legends told of ancient heroes who trod the Path of Longevity and the Path of Transcendence together, wielding power vast enough to scar stars in their youth.

‘This boy is dangerous,’ she admitted inwardly. ‘Too dangerous to leave alive. A future Martial Saint of such caliber would not bend… and I will not suffer an enemy like him to grow.’

She lifted her hand, summoning the heat of her flames, ready to erase the spark before it could become a blaze.

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Then it came.

A voice filled her, not in the air, not in her ears, but inside her very marrow. It pressed her down, ancient and immeasurable. “DO NOT INTERFERE.”

The flames in her palm died instantly. Her body froze. A weight like an ocean crashed into her soul.

From the storm of quintessence, a silhouette took shape. It was golden, radiant, and faceless. Its presence dwarfed even hers. It was no mortal, no god, and no demon. It was raw existence, a being so vast that its will alone manifested form. It reminded her of the Princes of Hell, those ageless rulers who had clawed themselves into eternity without souls.

Lei Jia trembled. Her throat was dry, her body obeying fear she had not felt in centuries. Her voice was hoarse when she forced it out.

“Who… are you?”

The silhouette did not answer.

Zhu Guanting roared as his massive frame trembled with fury. His great blade, taller than a man, burned with pinkish flame as he raised it high overhead. “Die, wretch!” he thundered, bringing it down with the force of a collapsing mountain.

But the strike never landed. Yuen Fu vanished in a flicker, leaving nothing but a trail of golden sparks. He reappeared on Zhu Guanting’s shoulder, his body radiating with sudden vitality. His meridians, once shattered, knitted themselves together as light surged through him. His cultivation climbed, cresting back into the Sixth Realm, Essence Gathering.

With a single, unhesitating swing of his radiant sword, Yuen Fu cut through the giant. Zhu Guanting’s legs buckled as his knees slammed the stone floor. He collapsed, screaming, his lower half torn away in a spray of blood. Yuen Fu landed lightly across the chamber, barely touching the ground as his movement blurred like lightning.

“No… no! Your Majesty!” Zhu Guanting cried, scrambling forward on one arm, his blade useless at his side. His screams filled the chamber as his sword arm was cleaved away. He dragged himself with his one remaining limb, eyes wild with terror. “Help me! Lei Jia! Save me!”

Lei Jia’s expression hardened. She could not bear to lose Zhu Guanting. He was her most prized creation, the culmination of decades of careful corruption. To nurture the evil in the heart of a once noble man had been a challenge in itself, but the reward had been exquisite. His fall had birthed a font of wicked qi so rich she had been able to refine her cultivation and recover the vestiges of her lost immortality. The thought of letting that treasure slip from her grasp twisted her gut with fury.

Her quintessence erupted, boiling into the air, overwhelming even the golden silhouette that had manifested before. The intimidating figure flickered and then dissolved, suppressed under her will. She summoned her Immortal Weapon, a grotesque club of searing iron, and with a scream of wrath, she brought it crashing down upon the defiant warrior.

The blow struck true. Yuen Fu’s body shattered into chunks of meat and blood.

Lei Jia exhaled slowly, lowering the weapon. “Fool,” she spat. She turned back toward her broken subordinate, only to freeze. Zhu Guanting’s body lay still, headless. His face was gone, his last terrified expression carved forever into the stone.

Her brows knit.

“At the last moment… that boy…”

Realization sank in. Yuen Fu had struck true at the last second.

Before her anger could consume her, the giant doors burst open. A servant stumbled inside, pale and trembling. “Y-Your Majesty! A disaster! Several of our military outposts were o-overwhelmed by rebels! Reports say… important officials have been slain!”

“Rebels?” Lei Jia’s voice cracked the air. “Ridiculous!” Her eyes blazed, her qi lashing like fire whips. “My officials are at least at the Fourth Realm, and their demons were of the Legend Rank! Who dares challenge me?” Her fury boiled so violently that the servant fainted on the spot, blood leaking from her ears. Lei Jia nearly killed her then and there, but restrained herself with visible effort, teeth clenched.

Her patience broke. She spread her arms and screamed in her Qi Speech, her command vibrating across the skies of Northshire. “Martial law! From this moment, the entire kingdom stands under my decree!” Her voice shook the city, rattling windows, toppling weak walls, sending mortals sprawling in terror.

However, interrupting her words was a burst of power.

The meat chunks at her feet twitched. They pulsed with light. Slowly, impossibly, they rose and knitted back together, sinew and flesh weaving as though rewound by unseen hands. In the blink of an eye, Yuen Fu stood whole before her once again, breathing raggedly but alive. A faint glow of quintessence clung to him, thin yet undeniable.

Lei Jia’s eyes widened. “Impossible. The art of resurrection was lost to humanity long ago.”

Yuen Fu’s lips moved. His voice was hoarse but steady. “I understand, my lord. I shall not die a second time. But... I do regret being unable to punish more... Zhu Guanting deserves worse for... I see... I see... He will suffer in hell, and I should take comfort in that.”

Her fury rose like a storm. She spread her arms wide, her aura boiling into nine circles of scarlet flame. “You dare defy me, insect!? Then face my Immortal Art: Ninefold Boiling Hell!”

But before the waves of flame could consume him, Yuen Fu raised his hand. His face hardened with defiance, his eyes burning with stubborn light.

“Hear the words of my lord.” His hand curled into a fist, then extended a single finger. “Fuck you.”

He raised his middle finger high.

Lei Jia blinked, her fury faltering for just a moment.

“What… does that gesture even mean?”

She lifted her grotesque club high, channeling the bulk of her Immortal Art into the weapon. As a [Level 8] Ascended Soul, her presence bent the very air, quintessence quaking under the weight of her will. The club warped hideously in her grasp, wood expanding into fleshy vessels, sprouting streams of blood. Human teeth jutted grotesquely from its surface, gnashing with hunger as it sought to devour the warrior before her. If the blow struck, it would consume not only his body, but the very essence of his soul.

But before it could fall, the figure she targeted vanished.

In his place stood a stranger, dark-haired, garbed in robes of deep purple laced with golden trim. His presence did not belong to a mortal; it surged with malevolence, steeped in the aura of the demonic.

With one motion, he raised his hand. Purple flames and dark feathers spiraled outward, gathering power into his palm as he struck. His slap collided with her grotesque club, shattering its corruption in an instant and forcing it back into its original, gnarled wooden form. The backlash made her arm tremble.

Her voice cut the silence. “Are you Da Wei?”

The man’s eyes glowed faintly as he replied. “No. I am Lu Gao, Disciple of Da Wei, Host to his Hell Soul. And I shall judge you as Paladin in service of the Great Guard.”

Lei Jia’s laughter erupted sharply and cruelly, echoing against the black stone. “Judge me? You?” She could feel the truth of his aura. His soul state was pitiful… at most a [Level 1] Ascended Soul. A temporary elevation, no doubt. Some Immortal Art had lent him this strength, but its fleeting nature was obvious. Compared to hers, his foundation was laughable.

Her smile widened with venom as she ridiculed. “So this is Da Wei’s answer? He sends a disciple, cloaked in scraps of borrowed might, instead of daring to face me himself? The Great Guard hides in his hole, trembling, too afraid to stand before me.”

Lu Gao’s gaze never wavered. He raised his sword hand, flames curling faintly at his fingertips. “You misunderstand, fiend. I begged my master for this right. I pleaded for him to indulge me, to allow me the honor of crossing blades with you. It is not that he fears you. It is because he grants my request.”

The words struck sharper than steel.

Lei Jia’s laughter died in her throat, replaced by a guttural snarl. “The insolence!”

Her aura erupted, the weight of boiling hellfire filling the chamber as her fury sought to crush the disciple who dared speak so boldly in her presence.

But Lu Gao did not flinch, merely continuing in derision. “Ah… I take it back. There is no honor in crossing blades with you. But it will be my pleasure to teach you to fear the name of my master.”