Immortal Paladin

440 Unlikely Reversal

[POV: Yuan Shun]

The barrier had been undone.

Yuan Shun lay on the scorched ground, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Huff… huff… huff… I won…”

Below her lay Gu Jie.

The sight should have brought relief. Instead, it brought only a dull, exhausted numbness.

Yuan Shun’s wings were torn, holy feathers scattered and burned. Her abdomen had been ripped open, intestines mangled, several ribs shattered beneath her skin. She forced herself to heal, light gathering sluggishly around her wounds. Whatever dark sorcery lingered in Gu Jie’s vile blood resisted her regeneration, slowing it to a crawl.

She knew the truth. Without the sheer advantage of her attributes, she would have lost.

“I need to finish this…”

Gu Jie lay unmoving. Her body had already begun to crumble, flesh turning to gray ash that drifted across the battlefield. Death had claimed her, yet Yuan Shun trusted nothing when it came to such corrupted beings. Even now, she felt it prudent to hasten the end.

A single feather tore free from her wing.

It shot forward like a bolt, wrapped in Divine Smite, aimed straight for Gu Jie’s chest.

The feather froze midair.

A skeleton rose between the projectile and its target, its bones bleached white, posture calm and deliberate.

Jue Bu.

The skeleton dissolved, revealing the man beneath. Wearing her master’s face, as always.

The sight twisted something bitter in Yuan Shun’s chest. No matter how many times she saw it, she could never grow accustomed to that stolen visage. It felt like blasphemy given flesh.

“How about we call it a truce?” Jue Bu offered lightly.

Before she could respond, he vanished, reappearing at a distance with Gu Jie’s crumbling body cradled in his arms.

From the horizon, remnants of the Heavenly Temple cultivators emerged. Their numbers grew steadily as they advanced, forming a tightening encirclement. Yuan Shun still had many warriors standing, but the damage Jue Bu had inflicted on her forces was undeniable.

She clenched her fist.

Should she let them go?

Gu Jie was already dead. Even her master’s resurrection spell would fail on a body so thoroughly tainted. By all reason, the threat should have ended here.

But reason had never been enough.

Jue Bu was not merely an enemy. He was an ancient existence, one who had once ruled an entire layer of the Underworld in a forgotten age. Leaving him unchecked felt like inviting catastrophe.

Yuan Shun raised her voice.

“I am willing to let you go,” she said, steady despite the pain, “if you leave her behind.”

Jue Bu shook his head slowly.

“I am afraid I cannot do that.”

There was something genuinely mournful in his expression as he looked down at her from afar.

“See, she is my daughter too,” he said softly. “Or something close enough. As Da Wei’s shadow, what is his is mine, and what is mine is his.”

His grip tightened around Gu Jie’s remains.

“So no,” he continued, eyes dark and resolute, “I am taking this child with me.”

Yuan Shun watched him disappear once more, the ashes of Gu Jie trailing behind like a fading curse, and knew with chilling certainty that this war was far from over.

“JUE BU! I WILL REND YOU!”

…

..

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[POV: Jue Bu]

Daylight flooded the battlefield.

Jue Bu could no longer sustain his Immortal Art.

He ran.

Unlike Ru Qiu or Da Wei, he did not possess endless quintessence. The strain had already pushed him far past his limits. By twisting space with Immortal Art: Reversal of Heaven and Earth, he forced his body forward in erratic surges, flipping distance and direction to hasten his retreat.

There was no humor left in him for this situation. This was no clever escape or calculated gamble. It was survival.

Projectile techniques screamed through the air behind him, each one powerful enough to threaten him in his current state. He dodged with precise timing, refusing to waste energy on counters. Instead, he poured what little strength he had left into Zealot’s Stride, pushing his speed beyond what his wounded body should have allowed.

Time had changed him. Perspective, will, even his powers had warped alongside the body he now inhabited. The influence was undeniable.

Gu Jie lay in his arms, her form continuing to crumble into ash.

His jaw tightened.

He activated his Immortal Art on her, carefully reversing the process particle by particle. Ash drew back together, flesh knitting imperfectly. It was slow, fragile work, but there was hope. As long as her body could be preserved, her existence was not yet extinguished.

“You have nowhere to go!”

Yuan Shun’s voice rang out behind him.

Her wings were still in tatters, feathers burned and torn, yet she pursued relentlessly, refusing to fall behind.

“Heavenly Punishment!”

The heavens answered.

A massive golden sword tore through the sky, descending with apocalyptic force. It was an Ultimate Skill. There were only three ways to survive it: counter it with Judgment Severance, endure it head-on, or escape with a superior movement technique.

Jue Bu had none of those options left.

Every ounce of his power was focused on Gu Jie.

His teeth clenched.

Was this it?

Before the blade could strike, a colossal golden rift split open in the air, shaped unmistakably like a cross. Radiant force surged outward as Judgment Severance activated, not from one source, but many.

The Heavenly Punishment shattered and dispersed.

Jue Bu’s eyes widened.

Ahead of him, filling the horizon, banners unfurled in disciplined formation. White and gold standards snapped in the wind, emblazoned with the sigil of the Holy Empire.

“My Guardians!” shouted a commanding voice.

Ding Shan stood at the forefront, armor gleaming.

“We are here!”

“What do we fight for!?” the ranks roared.

“Honor!”

“What do we fight for!?”

“Justice!”

“What do we fight for!?”

“Destiny!”

The battlefield trembled beneath their unified cry.

And yet, even that was not the greatest shock.

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Hovering above the Guardians was a lone figure clad in black and gold armor.

Nongmin.

His presence was unmistakable, yet profoundly changed. Power radiated from him, refined and resolute. The legacy of the Paladin burned clearly within his soul.

Jue Bu burst into laughter, raw and unrestrained.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Son of a bitch. I thought you were dead!”

The former sovereign of an empire now bore the bearing of a warrior. A blindfold covered his eyes, yet it felt as though nothing on the battlefield escaped his perception. Above him, massive soaring vessels tore out of warp space, their hulls marked with the Holy Empire’s insignia.

Nongmin raised his voice, calm and absolute.

“Charge.”

The Holy Empire surged forward, and the tide of the battle shifted in an instant.

…

..

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[POV: Nongmin]

They had infiltrated the Holy Temple with him at the forefront.

The colors of the Heavenly Temple were austere, white stone washed with blue and black, solemn and cold. In contrast, the Holy Empire advanced beneath banners of white and gold, with streaks of green woven through the ranks to symbolize the Holy Emperor. When the two forces collided, it was not subtle or graceful. It was overwhelming.

The Holy Empire’s side was vastly superior in numbers.

Nongmin did not fully understand the logic behind it at first, but the truth was simple: the players, the blessed, were assets that could be used again and again. Lives that returned. Blades that never dulled through death. Against that, traditional forces crumbled.

He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself.

The spell had been charged for some time now.

“Final Adjudication.”

The world answered.

An enormous golden scale manifested in the heart of the enemy formation, its surface radiant and absolute. From it burst fiery golden chains that lashed outward in every direction, binding, crushing, and annihilating everything within its reach. Screams were drowned beneath the roar of divine judgment.

Nongmin exhaled.

“Now,” he murmured, “it’s time to play my part.”

He blurred into motion.

In a heartbeat, he descended upon Heavenly Master Yuan Shun, who was still in pursuit of Jue Bu. As he moved, Nongmin opened his pocket dimension and released his puppets—Dragoons, humanoid constructs that shared in his power and responded to his will without hesitation.

Yuan Shun reacted instantly, dodging with frightening precision. Her movements were sharp despite her exhaustion. She carved through the Dragoons’ initial assault, but she never saw Nongmin emerge from behind one of them, appearing at her side as if he had always been there.

A great cleaver axe materialized in his hands, wreathed in Divine Smite.

She parried.

The impact sent a tremor through her arms.

Nongmin did not relent. The surrounding puppets snapped into formation, attacking in unison. Yuan Shun moved like a storm, parrying and countering with a blade of pure holy light conjured in her grasp.

Then she vanished.

Nongmin felt it just in time.

She reappeared behind him with teleportation. “Castling,” he realized, noting the scattered feathers embedded throughout the battlefield.

He pulled himself toward one of his puppets, narrowly avoiding a fatal strike.

“How are you alive!?” Yuan Shun demanded, fury bleeding through her composure as she defended herself from the Dragoons. “I saw you die! And how do you have this power?!”

He gave her no answer.

Let her wonder. Let her rage.

He had known someone was watching Da Wei closely. That was why, when the offer to be transformed directly into a Paladin had been presented, he had refused. Instead, he had advanced with a Legacy Bearer, claiming the power on his own terms.

As for his death?

It had been a lie from the very beginning.

A delayed Spell Resonance, paired with a resurrection technique he had learned from his mother, had returned him to life. The method had its costs, but as a Paladin, the bonuses he gained allowed him to ignore the worst of the penalties.

He was not strong enough to perform Ultimate Skills yet.

But he was strong enough for this.

He played along, trading blows, summoning more puppets as they were destroyed. Yuan Shun was a realm above him, so victory was impossible. But she was exhausted, and exhaustion bred openings.

He only needed time.

Yuan Shun realized it, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s your play here, you little weakling?”

Feathers scattered through the air, blooming into grotesque, asymmetrical Holy Spirits. They tore through Nongmin’s puppets in a violent storm.

He simply summoned more.

Then it happened.

A thunderous explosion erupted deep within the Temple of the Four Heroes.

“No!” Yuan Shun cried out, horror finally breaking through her fury.

She turned back toward him, realization dawning.

“How dare you!? What have you done?!”

Nongmin met her gaze, pride unhidden.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “I’m burying the only place you will ever have access to the Dark Veil.”

Above the ruins, formation arrays ignited, blazing to life as the Guardians activated them. Portable dragon veins were embedded into the structure, sealing it completely as soaring vessels hovered overhead.

Standing before her now, everything made sense.

Why she was here.

What she wanted.

She had come to claim ownership of the Dark Veil.

Nongmin’s voice hardened with contempt.

“Don’t underestimate me. I have greater foresight than you, old hag. I am the real deal—Nongmin, the Heavenly Divine Eye.”

“There’s no such thing!” Yuan Shun shouted.

Of course there wasn’t.

When he said Heavenly Divine Eye, he wasn’t referring to a technique or a blessing.

He was referring to himself.

His existence.

He shrugged lightly.

“Then you must be blind,” he said, “if you can’t see it.”

…

..

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[POV: Da Ji]

New Willow had been reclaimed for some time now, its broken lands gathered and reforged into a floating sanctuary. Players roamed the flying island freely, their presence no longer tentative but confident, as if this place had truly become theirs. Zai Ai worked tirelessly to mend what had once been shattered, aided by her disciple Mao Xian, their efforts slowly restoring stability to the land.

Da Ji stood atop a pagoda that overlooked the entirety of New Willow. From this height, the island felt almost peaceful. Soaring vessels hovered in a wide defensive formation around them, silent sentinels prepared to respond should danger arise.

It was night.

Below, the glow of lanterns and spell-light traced the streets and platforms of the island. Da Ji’s gaze lingered on a familiar sight of her son, Chen Wei, training with the players. He moved among them with calm authority, demonstrating techniques that fascinated them. Wherever he went, players gathered, eager to learn skills they deemed rare and unconventional.

A presence approached.

Ren Jingyi appeared beside her, her aura steadier than it had once been. She had grown stronger, more composed, carrying the weight of responsibility with quiet resolve.

“Elder,” Ren Jingyi asked softly, “what are you doing here all alone?”

Da Ji did not look away from the horizon. “Admiring my statue,” she replied, her tone casual.

From a distance, the statue was clearly visible, crafted by the players in her likeness. The base beneath it had been seamlessly integrated into New Willow itself, cleverly restoring portions of the landmass the island had once lost.

“How’s the resurrection campaign doing?” Da Ji asked.

Ren Jingyi answered without hesitation. “We’ve found everyone we can. All of them have been resurrected using the Source.”

Da Ji’s expression did not change, but her thoughts stirred. She still did not know what to make of the Source. Its power was undeniable, unsettling in its scope, yet undeniably effective.

Ren Jingyi continued, her voice lowering. “I’ve lost access to the Animal Path Soul.”

She gestured upward.

Faint golden arcs shimmered across the night sky, subtle but unmistakable. Even from here, Da Ji could feel the clash of forces far above.

“That’s Master,” Ren Jingyi said. “He’s fighting.”

She took a breath before continuing. “I’ve convened with my fellow disciples. We’ve agreed to gather at the Promised Dunes. That’s where we believe the final battle will take place.”

Da Ji finally turned her gaze toward her. “And why is that?”

Ren Jingyi’s expression tightened. “Ding Cai found something… compelling. Master won’t want to fight in a place where others could become collateral damage. We believe the disciples must be present for this battle.” She hesitated. “But not the rest.”

The implication hung heavily between them.

As great as Da Wei was, to Da Ji he was still her brother. If she could fight beside him, she would give everything she had without hesitation. Yet Ren Jingyi’s words were clear. This was not her place to stand at his side.

Da Ji exhaled slowly.

She wanted to argue, but these were Da Wei’s disciples, his responsibility, his legacy. They would not make such a decision lightly.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

Ren Jingyi straightened. “The war effort against the Heavenly Temple will be led by you, Nongmin, Shouquan, Yi Qiu, Liang Na, and Wu Chen. I also need you to assist with the evacuation in the Great Desert. Use the flying island and the soaring vessels to accelerate it.”

She added, “The evacuation is already underway, but with New Willow and the fleet, we can finish it faster.”

Da Ji nodded once.

“I will do what I can.”

Above them, the night sky shimmered again, as if in quiet acknowledgment of the coming storm.

…

..

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[POV: Alice]

Alice was alive.

She did not know how, only that she was. Awareness returned to her in fragments, like light seeping through cracked stone. She tried to look outward, and slowly, painfully, her vision expanded beyond herself.

She saw David.

No, she saw two Davids.

They were locked in combat, their movements blurring against a backdrop that felt more conceptual than real. One wore white armor, radiant and resolute. The other was clad in dark armor, oppressive and sharp, like a wound given form. They were evenly matched, each strike met with another, neither yielding.

A sharp ache bloomed in Alice’s chest.

It took her a moment to understand why.

It was not her pain.

It was David’s.

With effort, she reached deeper, drawing strength from somewhere she could not quite name. Power responded, thin but present, like an echo answering a call. That was when realization struck her with quiet certainty.

She was alive because of the blood pact.

The blood pact she shared with her David… or Da Wei, as he insisted on calling himself now.

From the deepest part of Da Wei’s heart, a trace of that pact still remained. By all logic, that blood should have become meaningless the moment she died. Yet it had not. Instead, it had changed. It had mutated.

Alice could feel it.

Divinity pulsed faintly within that blood, unmistakably David’s.

Oh, David… you really cherished me, didn’t you?

Her gaze lingered on the battle, and confusion crept in. Something was wrong. She could feel it from within him, the way one feels a misaligned bone beneath the skin.

He was losing.

Limbs were severed, wounds piling upon wounds, yet his resistance felt… incomplete. He was holding back. Deliberately.

Why?

In her current state, her emotions were raw, unshielded. Worry surged through her, sharp and overwhelming. She watched helplessly as David spoke, his voice carrying across the fractured space, each word crueler than the last.

“Is that really all you can do?” her David shouted. “Man, you are such trash! I imagine you must be pretty jealous of my life, since you look so bitter!”

Alice flinched.

David had always been rough around the edges, uncouth in a way that bordered on reckless honesty. But this? It was too much. It was not banter. It was provocation, deliberate and vicious.

He continued, laughing harshly even as blood stained his armor.

“I know you want it! My life! Take it! Become me! Devour me like you always say! Why can’t you do it? Scared? I won’t fight back! I won’t even do counter-possession if you’re being such a bitch about it!”

The other David said nothing. He only pressed forward, his expression rigid, his strikes heavy with restrained fury.

And then Alice understood.

Her David was tempting him.

He wanted to be consumed.

Her chest tightened as the realization settled. David had always hidden his darker thoughts well, burying them beneath duty, humor, and responsibility. He never wanted to disappoint those who believed in him. Never wanted to stain their expectations.

But Alice knew him.

In the deepest part of his soul, there was a thought he had never been able to erase… only suppress.

That this world was a game.

“This world is mine!” her David cried, voice cracking with something raw and dangerous. “It’s mine! You can’t have it! If you want it, you must devour me!”

The other David finally roared back, swinging his sword with unrestrained force.

“Shut up! You are not me!”

Alice watched them clash, two halves tearing at each other with hatred born from intimacy. It was horrifying. Tragic. A man fighting himself, bleeding himself dry.

Please, she thought desperately, though no sound left her.

Please… stop hurting yourself.