Immortal Paladin

476 My Message

The Herald spat blood on the ground as Ru Qiu forced him to his knees. His battered face twisted into a hateful grin despite the restraints binding him.

“You idiots are going to regret this,” he growled hoarsely. “Nothing you have can hold me forever. When I return to my lord, your miserable city will burn to ash.”

After my conversation with Ox-Head in the clouds, we returned and began working on the prisoner.

Working on him turned out to be far more difficult than expected.

I used Divine Possession amplified by the Ophanim, feeding the process with Exalted Renewal in a projected alternate future. The combination created an experience very similar to the one I had forced Conquest through. Herald’s consciousness was dragged through countless projected scenarios where he died again and again at my hands.

Even a Ruler of Laws had broken under that combination.

Admittedly, Conquest had never been particularly strong mentally, but the effectiveness of the method had still been impressive.

Unfortunately, it seemed I had underestimated what it meant to deal with an Origin God.

The Herald suddenly burst into laughter in the middle of the interrogation. Blood and drool dripped from his mouth as he cackled like a lunatic.

“Go on,” he gasped between fits of laughter. “Break me again! Every time you try, my faith only grows stronger. My devotion to the Origin deepens with every death you show me!”

His eyes shone with manic fervor.

“You cannot break someone whose faith is absolute.”

I grimaced slightly.

Truth be told, I wasn’t particularly fond of using methods like this. Divine Possession alone was already a morally questionable technique. Turning it into a torture device by forcing someone to relive endless deaths in fabricated realities made it even worse.

The method clearly had limits too.

Against individuals with strong willpower, the endless cycle of death simply became another trial to endure. Instead of breaking them, it hardened them further.

In that case, the entire torture method became little more than an elaborate trick.

Ru Qiu finally grew impatient.

“I guess we have no use for you,” he said flatly.

He raised one hand and placed it above the Herald’s head. Dark flames flickered faintly around his fingers as he prepared the killing blow.

“Just say the word, Da Wei,” he continued casually. “I’ll make it quick.”

Typical Ru Qiu.

Violence was always his preferred solution.

The problem was that he wasn’t entirely wrong. We had already extracted everything this Herald was willing to reveal. Keeping him around served little purpose. Still, killing him didn’t feel like the right move either.

I crouched down in front of the Herald.

“I have a message for your leader,” I said calmly.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“There’s a ruined church south of here,” I continued. “Let’s talk there. Just you and me, whoever you are.”

Ox-Head immediately stepped forward.

“Da Wei, that’s too risky,” he warned.

The Herald stared at me for a moment before erupting into laughter again.

“You arrogant fool,” he sneered. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? You dare challenge the Origin King himself?”

His laughter echoed through the ruins.

“You are nothing before him.”

I ignored the taunt.

“Tell your leader to light a signal from the meeting place,” I said calmly. “Once I see it, I’ll come immediately. I promise I’ll come alone. I hope your leader have the courtesy of the same.”

I gave the Herald a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“I just want to talk. I’m sure sincerity can cross distances and boundaries that were built on hatred and suffering.”

I straightened up and looked at Ru Qiu.

“Now, Ru Qiu, be a dear and let him go.”

Ru Qiu stared at me as though I had just asked him to juggle flaming swords. He sighed heavily. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered. “Always doing as you please.”

With an irritated wave of his hand, the dark fiery restraints around the Herald dissolved. The Herald slowly stood up, clearly stunned. He looked back and forth between us as if expecting this to be some sort of trick.

I waved at him encouragingly.

“Come on, fly,” I said cheerfully. “Please put in a good word for me to your leader. Who knows? Maybe all I need is a good conversation and I might even join your little cult.”

The Herald’s expression twisted between outrage and confusion. After a few seconds, his wing regenerated. Silver feathers sprouted rapidly until the full wing was restored. Without another word, he launched into the sky and fled as fast as possible.

The moment he disappeared into the distance, Ox-Head turned to me with clear irritation.

“Da Wei,” he said sternly, “that was incredibly naïve. I never thought you were the type of person who believed words alone could solve something like this.”

I crossed my arms and smiled slightly.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” I replied. “Miracles have been achieved with nothing more than words.”

I glanced toward the horizon where the Herald had vanished.

“You should know that better than anyone,” I added calmly. “You’re far older than I am. Surely you’ve seen the power words can have. If not, perhaps you’re less worldly than I thought.”

Ru Qiu watched the Herald disappear into the horizon before letting out a long sigh.

“You did something, didn’t you?” said Ru Qiu flatly. “What did you do?”

Ox-Head blinked in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. “We just let him go.”

Ru Qiu shook his head slowly.

“No,” he said, sounding oddly certain. “He did something.”

Ox-Head turned toward him, clearly surprised by the remark.

“You noticed that?” Ox-Head asked. “And here I thought I imagined it”

Ru Qiu folded his arms and glanced at me with a knowing look.

“When you patted him on the shoulder,” he said calmly, “you used the Ophanim. I could feel it. You combined it with another spell I don’t recognize. On top of that, you have that little smile you’re trying to hide right now.”

He pointed directly at my face.

“That same smile you get whenever you’ve just committed some kind of mischief.”

I couldn’t help it.A grin spread across my face.

“Well,” I said lightly, “let’s just say I played a little prank on our adversaries.”

Neither of them looked particularly reassured by that answer.

Days passed after that encounter.

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Everyone became busy with their own responsibilities around New Risendawn.

Gu Jie and Joan disappeared back into their research regarding the nature of dungeons, which apparently had become their latest obsession. Ox-Head threw himself into the reconstruction efforts with the dwarves and engineers, enthusiastically discussing structural reinforcement and defensive architecture.

Ru Qiu rotated between several tasks depending on his mood. Sometimes he helped teach cultivation techniques to the residents. Sometimes he joined patrols outside the city walls. More often than not, however, he simply sparred with me.

Even then, he complained constantly.

At the moment we were standing in the central plaza, surrounded by a crowd of residents and pilgrims who had gathered to watch our training session. The sparring match was meant to serve as a practical demonstration.

Ru Qiu threw a punch wrapped in dark flames, followed immediately by a sidestep kick and a roundhouse aimed at my head.

“I’m just saying,” he complained through Qi Speech, “I should be out there completing objectives. I should be fighting enemies and pushing myself to unlock my Supremacy Trait. Instead I’m stuck here playing instructor.”

I ducked beneath the kick and slid backward.

“Too much,” I replied through Qi Speech. “Remember the lesson we’re demonstrating. We’re showing them how someone with weaker cultivation can fight a stronger opponent. Stop sneaking your Immortal Art into the exchange.”

For the sake of the demonstration, I was simulating the abilities of a Martial Tempering cultivator while Ru Qiu was representing someone at the Mind Enlightenment stage. We deliberately limited our energy usage and avoided relying on overwhelming power.

Ru Qiu continued venting his frustration while attacking.

“Maybe I should’ve joined those three instead,” he said as he launched another flurry of strikes. “Tracking down that Lost God sounded far more interesting.”

He paused mid-movement and suddenly frowned.

“Hey,” he added, “I just realized something. That variant Ezekiel of yours… the one that usually looks different. He’s been missing lately.”

I blocked his incoming elbow and stepped aside casually.

“Ah,” I said, “I sent him on an errand. I’m surprised you didn’t see him.”

The watching crowd struggled to maintain composure.

Some people tried to remain disciplined like proper students, but others couldn’t help reacting with cheers and excited murmurs every time we exchanged blows. Their mixture of awe and enthusiasm made the entire training session feel more like a spectacle than a lesson.

Ru Qiu lunged forward again.

That moment of distraction gave me an opening.

I hooked his leg and swept him off balance before driving a Divine Smite straight into his face.

The impact launched him across the plaza where he slammed into the ground.

“You bastard,” Ru Qiu cursed through Qi Speech while rolling to his feet. “You just used mana on that strike.”

His leg suddenly snapped out like a striking serpent.

The kick slammed directly into my kidney.

Pain exploded through my side and I collapsed forward onto my stomach like a sack of potatoes. When we said we reduced our cultivation for demonstrations, we meant it literally. Without the constant reinforcement of our usual energy flows, our bodies became much more vulnerable.

“Fucker,” I growled through Qi Speech while clutching my side. “You kept using dark flames from your Immortal Art.”

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Some people clapped while others shouted encouragement, clearly enjoying the chaotic back-and-forth of the fight.

Ru Qiu clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Our people seriously lack discipline,” he complained through Qi Speech. “If this were the Heavenly Divine Cult and two high-level practitioners were demonstrating techniques, the audience would remain silent and respectful. Not a single person would dare cheer like this.”

I slowly stood back up while circulating my Divine Qi to stabilize my breathing.

“Yeah, no,” I replied dryly. “Your cult sounds like a nightmare. I bet there’s a lot waiting for you once we’re finished here.”

Ru Qiu stared at me for a moment.

Then he abruptly raised his hand toward the crowd.

“That concludes today’s lesson,” he announced loudly.

He pointed toward the training field.

“When you are forced to fight someone stronger than yourself and find your back against the wall, hesitation will kill you. In that moment, you must fight with the conviction that you will die.”

His gaze hardened.

“Fight with the intent to drag your enemy down with you. Only that level of resolve gives the weak a chance to defeat the strong.”

It was a fighting philosophy I honestly didn’t want them to adopt.

Yet there I was, teaching it to them anyway.

The Guardians followed a very different doctrine. Their creed revolved around faith, unity, and the classic “leave no man behind” mentality. They believed that if they stood together under divine protection, everyone could survive.

The players had their own brand of insanity entirely. Their tactics were unpredictable, reckless, and often shaped by the mindset of people who once treated death like a temporary inconvenience.

But these people in New Risendawn were neither Guardians nor players.

What I was teaching them instead was something far uglier.

A suicidal last stand tactic.

The only reason I could even justify teaching such a thing was because I had resurrection spells available and that we were on a defending position. Even then, resources were limited, and this world didn’t have the luxury of endless supplies or safe respawns. If they were pushed into a corner, the only option left would be to drag their enemies down with them.

I wasn’t proud of that reality.

Before I could dwell on it further, a heavy figure landed beside us.

Ox-Head appeared in his fully humanoid form, touching down with surprising grace for someone his size.

“They’re back,” he said.

I nodded and turned toward Ru Qiu.

“I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Ru Qiu didn’t even look at me.

“Form up!” he barked at the trainees. “Spears forward and hold the line properly. Your grip is wrong. If you can’t even hold a weapon correctly, you might as well hand your throat to the enemy yourself.”

As the people of New Risendawn scrambled into formation, I quietly slipped away. Waiting for me inside a private chamber were Dave, Arthur, and Fanarys.

The moment I stepped in, I asked the obvious question.

“How did it go?”

“Bad,” Arthur answered bluntly. “But we managed.”

Fanarys crossed her arms and nodded toward Dave.

“Show him.”

Dave reached into his pocket dimension and pulled out a small sack. Without ceremony, he handed it to me.

I unfolded the cloth.

Inside was the severed head of a man.

I stared at it in silence for a moment.

Something about it felt… strange.

Mana lingered around the corpse like fading sunlight. Beneath that, I could sense remnants of powerful qi swirling faintly inside the flesh.

Arthur spoke quietly.

“That’s Aureon the Dawn,” he said. “One of the gods who still existed in this world. He was a famous deity worshipped by several churches. Unfortunately, that head is the only part of him we found.”

In other words, a very dead Lost God.

I exhaled slowly.

“Did you recover anything else?” I asked. “Any clues about other Lost Gods? I’m not exactly fond of them, but I figured they might be easier to talk to than the ones from the False Earth.”

I glanced down at the severed head.

“But I won’t be able to talk to him like this.”

Divine Qi gathered around my hands.

“Divine Word: Life.”

Emerald light surged through the head.

“Divine Word: Raise.”

The air trembled.

“Blessed Regeneration.”

The corpse began to rebuild itself.

Muscle formed where none existed. Bones extended downward from the neck. Flesh and skin regenerated rapidly as the divine energy restored what had been lost.

Within moments, a full human body stood before me.

The man who emerged was strikingly handsome, with long blond hair flowing past his shoulders. His features were so sharp and radiant that they almost seemed lethal in their perfection.

He was completely naked.

Even without activating the Ophanim, I could tell something important. His cultivation had once been far higher than what he currently displayed. His death had stripped away several layers of immortality, leaving him only capable of expressing power equivalent to an Ascended Soul.

I raised my hand casually.

“Let’s talk. My name’s—”

He attacked before I could finish.

A brilliant golden sword materialized in his hand and slashed straight toward my throat.

The strike was fast and merciless.

I caught the blade with Monkey-Grip.

Divine Qi surged through my fingers.

The sword shattered instantly.

Fragments of golden light scattered across the room.

Aureon stepped back, eyes blazing with hostility.

“You will not take me alive,” he snarled.

I stared at him quietly.

Back in LLO, Aureon had been a glorious NPC deity. Players spoke of him as a noble guardian of dawn, a radiant god who represented hope. The man standing in front of me now looked nothing like that legend. His face was pale. His breathing was uneven.

And behind his fury was something far more obvious.

It was fear.

Before anyone could react further, Aureon vanished.

A flash of golden light filled the room as he accelerated instantly.

The speed was terrifying.

For a brief moment, it felt almost identical to Yuen Fu’s legendary movement technique. That level of velocity approached the speed of light, something even I struggled to replicate without serious preparation or a literal threat to my existence to motivate me.

Unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t be able to go that far.

“Let me handle him,” I told the trio before stepping forward.

I could still feel a faint thread of Divine Qi lingering within Aureon’s body from the resurrection spell. That trace was more than enough for me to track him. As I moved, I remembered something my disciple Yuen Fu once taught me. At least, that was how I remembered it.

There were three stages of speed.

The first was Divine Speed, a passive skill that enhanced movement and attack speed depending on the environment. It was subtle but constant, allowing the body to adapt naturally to terrain, air resistance, and momentum.

The second was Zealot’s Stride, a buff technique that boosted dexterity while continuously restoring stamina the farther one traveled. The longer the movement lasted, the stronger the flow of energy became.

The final stage was Flash Step.

A single explosive burst of movement that could only be perceived as a flash of light.

When these three techniques were combined, they produced a level of speed that most cultivators considered impossible across long distances.

Yuen Fu had once reached that level even with a crippled body.

Compared to him, my situation was practically luxurious. In this qi-less world, most cultivators were heavily restricted. But my abilities relied primarily on Divine Qi, which did not depend on the ambient qi of the environment.

That meant one thing.

Catching a panicking god who had just been resurrected should be entirely possible.

I leaned into my Divine Speed.

The world sharpened.

Then Zealot’s Stride ignited within my body as my muscles filled with divine energy.

Finally, I triggered Flash Step.

At the same time, my Divine Zone expanded outward, bending the space around me just enough to push my acceleration even further.

The result was immediate.

The landscape blurred.

Wind tore past my ears as the distance between me and Aureon collapsed almost instantly.

In a single bound, I closed most of the gap.

In the next, I was already behind him.

Before the golden god could react, I stepped forward and drove my foot down onto his back, slamming him face-first into the ground and pinning him in place.

The earth cracked beneath the impact.

Aureon struggled, golden light flickering around his body.

I leaned slightly over him and spoke calmly.

“Don’t try anything clever,” I warned. “You might regret it.”

He froze.

After a moment of tense silence, I eased the pressure slightly but kept him pinned. Personally, I didn’t like staying outside the safety of New Risendawn any longer than necessary.

“Now then,” I said casually. “How about we head back and have a cup of tea?”

He slowly turned his head enough to glare at me.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

I smiled politely.

“My name is Da Wei.”

I paused just long enough for the name to settle.

“The most recent Supreme Vessel of the Source,” I continued. “Although these days I go by a slightly different title.”

I tapped my chest lightly.

“Supreme Bearer.”

His eyes widened slightly at that.

I leaned down closer so he could hear me clearly.

“Also,” I added pleasantly, “I have a message for the rest of the Lost Gods managing this world.”

My smile widened.

“You might want to let them know there’s been a change in management.”