Immortal Paladin

318 Draconic Price

[POV: Ren Xun]

Ren Xun stepped out of the small church, the echo of Da Wei’s words still reverberating in his chest. The cold night air bit at his skin, but within him burned a renewed fire. His heart thundered with purpose.

“Yes,” he thought in his heart of hearts, “this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning. My kin will be avenged. My bride will be reclaimed. I’ll see to it with my own hands.”

His steps were steady as he made his way back to his office. He had duties to return to from ledgers to approve, supply routes to secure, and defenses to adjust. But when he opened the door, he froze.

Waiting in the gloom was Hei Yuan, the patriarch of the Shadow Clan.

Ren Xun narrowed his eyes. “Do you have good news for me, Patriarch Hei?”

Hei Yuan shook his head, his face grim. “None. We cannot find the land of dragons you speak of. My shadows have combed the records, the hidden paths, the ruins in the hills… nothing. The people grow more restless by the day. Riverfall is isolated. The Feng Clan’s raids continue unchecked on villages, towns, and even walled cities. And soon…” He exhaled, heavy and weary. “Soon, the rest of the Seven Houses will bear their arms against us.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, but Ren Xun refused to let despair take root. His lips curled into a thin smile.

“You make it sound so grim, Patriarch Hei.” He strode past the man, lighting a lantern on his desk before turning back. “We will find the land of dragons. I know it in my bones. We are close. The people are protected by Hei Mao’s might, an immortal in his own right. And we are blessed still by young lady Ren Jingyi’s luck.” His voice rose with conviction. “As for the traitorous armies, they won’t dare march in full stride against us while Da Wei breathes down their necks beyond Riverfall’s borders. We can endure this. All we need is to last until Da Wei’s armies are ready, until his plans are in motion. The final battle will come, and we shall be there to see it.”

Hei Yuan studied him for a long while, his expression unreadable in the half-light.

“This is still a losing battle,” Hei Yuan said. “We are besieged from all sides.”

“I am not so naïve as to let them continue to have their ways,” said Ren Xun. “I have a plan. I always have a plan. By now, most of the refugees have already left their homes with my decree, making their pilgrimage to this city.”

Hei Yuan’s brows furrowed. His voice dropped, filled with incredulity. “Surely, you don’t mean to take them all in? An entire realm’s population crammed into a single city? That will be chaos, a nightmare beyond managing.”

Ren Xun did not flinch. Instead, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips, the expression of a man who had already considered every objection.

“I have made the proper arrangements,” he replied. “So fret not, Patriarch Hei. I have ordered the walls to be expanded outward, further and further, until the city itself is as vast as a realm. The aqueducts are being extended even as we speak, our soldiers drilling day and night to maintain order when the chaos of numbers inevitably arrives. It will not be easy, but it will be done.”

His voice carried the certainty of command, of a ruler who could not afford hesitation.

In truth, Ren Xun had prepared well. Hei Mao’s earlier display of strength with his sheer cultivation power, shaking the battlefield, had been a silent deterrent, one that forced the Feng Clan traitors to look the other way. They knew now the Yellow Dragon could not be underestimated. That alone had bought Ren Xun the time he needed.

At that time, he had acted boldly. The beggars and pilgrims who had once served Lin Lim’s cause were redirected, repurposed under a new banner. By his decree, they embarked on a “sacred pilgrimage,” ostensibly in worship of the Great Guard, a distant deity from the Empire, whose faith was far from controversial and unlikely to stir immediate suspicion. Under this guise, thousands moved steadily toward the city, swelling its numbers.

It was a dangerous gambit. The Feng Clan’s ancestors had been raiders, bandits in all but name. Ren Xun knew they would not balk at attacking pilgrims or settlements if the war grew desperate. For now, though, the traitors had not turned to such barbarity, still bound by the politics of the early stages of rebellion. That restraint granted Ren Xun a narrow window to act, and he meant to use it to the fullest.

As he reached for a drawer in his desk, he unfurled several maps, their surfaces layered with marks, circles, and scrawled annotations in his hand. His eyes gleamed as he spread them across the table before Hei Yuan.

“Then it is settled,” Ren Xun said, his voice low and decisive. “We will increase the expedition forces sent to search for dragons. These marked locations must be combed from every peak, ravine, and ruin. We cannot delay. The land of dragons will be found, and when it is, the tide of this war will turn in our favor.”

His work had been exhaustive, yet he knew it was incomplete. He could only do so much in such a small span of time. If he had access to the Grand Ascension Library, he could have been more precise and confident in his work.

But the Imperial Capital was already a ruin, the Emperor’s grand formation spells having collapsed the city upon itself in a desperate attempt to bury its secrets. Ren Xun doubted whether even the ashes of that great library remained. It had been bound to the land itself, its foundation locked to the Capital’s soil; not even an immortal’s pocket dimension could have carried it away when Da Wei’s company abandoned the city.

All Ren Xun had left was what fragments and texts he could extract from the Golden Sun Pavilion. With those, he pieced together conjectures, cross-references, and speculation. And still, despite the fragility of it all, his conviction burned bright. He was certain that somewhere among the locations he had marked, hidden deep in a mountain, desert, or ruin, lay the land of dragons.

Hei Yuan broke the silence, his voice steady yet careful. “Please take no offense, your highness, but I dare ask… What makes you think the dragons would fight for us?”

Ren Xun’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Not fight ‘for’ us, Patriarch Hei… but ‘with’ us. The traitorous houses are as much a threat to them as they are to us. By their betrayal, they also betray the age-old promise Emperor Nongmin made: to safeguard the dragons’ home, to protect them from those greedy and vile enough to covet their power.”

Hei Yuan’s eyes narrowed. “A mutual enemy, I see… But what if the dragons do not stand their ground? What if they choose simply to flee, to vanish into the clouds and abandon the war of men?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Ren Xun paused, folding his arms as his gaze lingered on the maps. “They could do that. And perhaps it is naïve of me to think otherwise. I’d like to believe the records that they are honorable, wise, and bound by ancient memory. But accounts of character are never reliable when drawn from ink and parchment alone. You ask the question that gnaws at me as well: Why would they fight with us?”

He touched his chest, where the faint warmth of his ancient blood pulsed. “My sharing of their blood is not enough. In their eyes, I am no more than a half-breed, a shadow of their ancient kin. No, if there is one thing that can bind us to their cause, one thing they cannot ignore…” He let the words linger, heavy with implication. “…it is the word of the Emperor.”

Silence hung in the chamber. Hei Yuan’s face betrayed neither approval nor disapproval, only the cold mask of a man who knew the stakes of their gambit.

Ren Xun’s thoughts, however, were anything but still. ‘A seal of the Emperor, or a contract in his name, would not be enough. Dragons are not swayed by scraps of parchment or symbols of power. To secure their allegiance, we may have to risk bringing the Emperor himself into the land of dragons.’

But there was also another possibility, one that Ren Xun was keen most likely to make happen.

The great doors of the chamber shuddered under a sudden push. With a grunt and a creak, they swung inward, far too heavy for most grown men to budge unaided. Yet it was not a soldier who had forced her way through. Instead, it was a child.

Ren Jingyi, her blond hair flying wildly about her face, came dashing into the chamber. Her little frame carried impossible strength, her bright eyes alight with feral joy.

“They’re here! They’re here!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing against the high stone walls.

Hei Yuan arched a brow, his patience thin. “Calm down, young lady…”

But Ren Xun only smiled. His heart, so long weighed down with grim plans and anxious calculations, stirred with a spark of hope. “So luck has chosen us after all…” He had entertained the possibility in secret, but he had never dared voice it. It seemed too miraculous, too fanciful to expect. Yet here it was, made real by the words of the girl born beneath fortune’s star.

Ren Jingyi stamped her foot, puffing up her chest. “The dragons… They are here! I can smell them!”

Hei Yuan let out a sharp exhale, folding his arms. “Smell them?”

The child whipped her head toward him, her lips curling into a scowl. “How dare you doubt me, old man?”

Before Hei Yuan could retort, the heavens themselves split with a crack of thunder. A storm rolled in as if conjured by divine will, rain pelting the palace roof, and winds howling through the windows. Slowly, the stars in the blanket of the night were blotted out.

They looked to the sky through the balcony doors, and awe silenced every tongue. Three vast shapes cut through the clouds, immense and majestic.

The first dragon was white, gleaming like ivory in the stormlight, summoning wintry frost in its belly. The second was green, scales glimmering like emerald leaves wet with rain, its roar shaking the earth. The third was copper, burnished like a forged blade, lightning dancing across its ridged horns.

Ren Jingyi laughed, twirling in the downpour. “See! I told you!”

“It looks like we don’t need to look for them, after all,” cried Ren Xun.

Drawing in a breath, he extended his will into his qi, shaping it into words that carried across the palace. “Hei Mao,” he intoned through Qi Speech, his voice booming in the ears of his immortal ally wherever he was. “Bring our honored guests to the throne room.”

Hei Mao’s power pulsed outward like the beating of a celestial heart, vast and unyielding. His aura pressed against the storm above, and the draconic majesty that had stirred the heavens receded beneath his will. The rain slackened, the thunder ceased, and soon even the winds quieted as if bowing before the strength of an Ascended Soul.

Ren Xun settled onto the governor’s throne, the seat where his father once ruled. The carved wood, worn smooth by generations, seemed heavier now beneath his form as though reminding him of the weight of the moment.

To his left, Ren Jingyi fidgeted, her little hands gripping her skirts as her wide eyes refused to leave the doors. Her excitement was infectious, but Ren Xun remained composed, his sharp gaze fixed on the entrance. Hei Yuan, standing stoically at his right, exuded the opposite. His face was grim, lined with the burden of war.

At last, the giant double doors swung open with a low groan. Hei Mao’s deep voice rang clear, dignified yet edged with iron.

“Announcing the arrival of the emissary from the Dragon Court!”

The immortal remained just beyond the threshold, his imposing shadow cast long by the torches. From the misted rain outside, three maidens entered with steps that carried a grace alien to mortal blood.

They were so beautiful that the air itself seemed to warp around them. Each wore robes of different hues, robes that clung like silk but shimmered faintly as though woven from light itself. Their skin was flawless yet marked by subtle blemishes with scales glinting faintly at their cheeks, throats, and wrists.

The one in copper-colored robes had hair like polished bronze, her presence warm but sharp as hammered steel. The maiden in white robes radiated cold detachment, her pale eyes glistening like winter moons. And at their center, walking just a step ahead, was the one in green.

Her robes flowed like a forest caught in spring’s eternal breeze, her beauty surpassing the others, commanding without needing to speak. Her emerald eyes glowed faintly with power, and her aura pressed against the chamber like an unseen tide. If not for Ren Xun’s sharpened mind and iron discipline, he would have fallen prey to her allure at first glance.

‘So this is the power of dragon blood… Not merely strength of body, but magic that could shatter nations.’

Dragons bore spells in their scales, and the smallest hint of that ancient magic brushed against him now. Even this was enough to unsettle hearts.

Hei Mao’s voice whispered directly into Ren Xun’s mind, his qi steady and unflinching.

“Your Highness, be cautious. The copper- and white-robed emissaries stand firm at the Eighth Realm… but the one in green…”

Ren Xun’s eyes flicked toward her, narrowing slightly.

“…she is Ninth Realm. A true peak cultivator. The weight of her presence alone could crush an army.”

Ren Xun straightened on the throne, letting his voice carry across the chamber with calm authority.

“As acting governor of Yellow Dragon and prince of the Grand Ascension Empire, I humbly welcome you to my halls. How may I address the dragons before me?”

The copper-robed and white-robed maidens lowered their eyes but said nothing, their silence deliberate. The one in green, however, stepped forward, her every motion dripping with the elegance of a predator.

“Pay no heed to my attendants,” she said, her voice soft yet ringing like jade bells in the air. “You only need to speak with me, for I come here representing the Court of Dragons. My name is Deng Chan, princess among my kind, and I speak to you as my equal… But make no mistake—” her emerald eyes glinted with a flash of power, “I am a dragon, still.”

Ren Xun dipped his head politely, keeping his composure steady though his thoughts sharpened like blades. “Well met. Now, what brought you to my city?”

Deng Chan’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold seriousness. “Let us do away with pleasantries and speak of survival. If you can provide us with a male of immense cultivation, one able to contend with dragons, we are willing to lend you our might. What say you, prince?”

Ren Xun’s brow furrowed. “And what do you need a man for?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Deng Chan’s voice carried no shame, only raw practicality. “The Dragon King perished long ago, and we have been searching for methods to expand our bloodline. Yet few lifeforms can withstand our vigor. This land’s Dragon God will not aid us, so we turn to you.”

The words struck Ren Xun like a blade to the ribs. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a direction. His mind raced, thinking of anyone who could fulfill the dragon’s needs… But who?

Da Wei?

No. Impossible. Word had reached him that Da Wei’s capacity for reproduction had been stripped away by some strange divine misfortune. Even if it hadn’t, the man’s stubbornness made such an arrangement laughable. He would never submit himself to being a stud for dragons, no matter how sound the reasoning. Ren Xun just couldn’t imagine it happening.

Tao Long then?

Ren Xun cleared his throat. “There is a dragon by the name of Tao Long—”

Deng Chan cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “He is my older brother… and likely someone’s cousin. That would defeat the purpose. We need fresh blood.”

Ren Xun leaned back into the throne, hiding the tension behind a mask of contemplation. His fingers tapped once against the armrest.

‘So… they want new seed, power mingled with dragon blood. And in return, they’d fight with us. But who…?’

His gaze slid, almost involuntarily, toward the massive shadow lingering by the doors. Hei Mao stood like a silent colossus, arms folded, his presence suffocating even without intent.

Ren Xun’s lips twitched. ‘Hmm… Hei Mao? Nah… Maybe? …Nah.’ For the first time in many months, he felt truly stumped. This was a price he had not accounted for.