Immortal Paladin 115 Unforeseen Date

115 Unforeseen Date

"Walk with ," Xin Yune said.

I obliged.

Like a gentleman, I offered her my hand. She took it without hesitation, linking her arm with mine as we stepped out onto the quiet streets.

It was dawn. The sky was painted in soft hues of orange and lavender, the air still crisp with the lingering chill of night. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few early risers preparing for the day—vendors setting up stalls, street sweepers brushing away the remnants of the night before.

As we walked, she talked.

She told about her childhood, about a ti before the Grand Ascension Empire bore its current na. Back then, it was simply the Grand Empire.

“There were nine daughters,” she said, her voice light but nostalgic. “And never a son.”

I glanced at her. "Nine princesses, huh? That must’ve been… eventful."

Xin Yune chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea."

She went on, speaking about the old days, the power struggles, the traditions, and the expectations placed upon them. But as she spoke, there was one thing she seed particularly passionate about.

She scoffed. "You know, my ancestors weren’t really that good with nas."

I raised an eyebrow. "That’s what bothers you?"

"Of course it does!" she said dramatically. "Grand Empire? How unimaginative. And then later, Nongmin just slapped Ascension onto it, like that suddenly made it grander. And don't even get started on the city nas. Imperial Capital? Really? That wasn’t even a na!"

I chuckled. "I take it you would’ve nad things differently?"

She gave a look. "Oh, absolutely. I had an entire list when I was younger."

I smirked. "Do I even want to know?"

"You do," she assured . "But I’m saving that for another ti. If I get another ti."

That last part made my smirk falter, just a little.

But she just kept walking, smiling up at the morning sky like she hadn’t just reminded that this was her final day.

"I could bring you back to life, you know?" I offered, watching her carefully.

Xin Yune shook her head. "No need," she said simply. "I've already made peace with it. And besides, you’d probably fail."

I frowned. "You sound awfully sure about that."

She smiled, but there was sothing knowing behind it. "Lifespan is different from life force," she remarked.

I raised an eyebrow. "And that ans…?"

She sighed, clearly expecting to not get it. "I am going to die, and that's it."

I opened my mouth to respond, still trying to make sense of it, but before I could, she reached over and pinched my side.

"Ow…" I stopped. "I just want to ask a question. No need to resort to violence."

Actually, I didn’t feel a thing.

More importantly, she didn’t get hurt either.

My Reflect ability should’ve rebounded the force back at her, but I had instinctively forced my willpower to suppress it. Huh. Maybe I was getting better at controlling it.

"Don’t interrupt," she scolded, pulling her hand back with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes but stayed quiet.

She continued, "Even your healing spells wouldn’t be able to bring back."

"How are you so sure?" I challenged.

"Because my son already foresaw it."

That made pause.

Before I could press further, she suddenly pointed ahead. "Oh, look! That food stall’s open too early."

I followed her gaze. The scent of sothing deep-fried filled the air. The vendor had just finished setting up, stirring a wok filled with oil. A sign on the side read sothing about… fried crickets.

Xin Yune’s eyes lit up. "I love fried crickets."

I stared at her. "...You what?"

I paid for her fried crickets, watching as Xin Yune took them with an almost childlike glee. She popped one into her mouth, crunching down with a satisfied hum, then sighed wistfully.

"You know, I miss the simpler days," she murmured between bites.

She leaned against the food stall, gazing at the warming sky. "Back then, my son wasn’t even called Nongmin," she said absentmindedly.

I paused. "Wait… what?"

She let out a rueful chuckle. "I can’t even rember his true na anymore."

That caught off guard. I frowned. "What do you an you don’t rember?"

Xin Yune exhaled, idly shaking the paper bag of crickets as if searching for the best one. "The day my son ascended as Emperor, he cast away his true na into the void," she said. "A form of defense."

I narrowed my eyes. "Defense against what?"

She shrugged. "Divine Scrying, fate manipulation, soul bindings—things that could be used against him. Without a na, such things lose their hold."

I absorbed that for a mont. "...And the na Nongmin?"

"It ans farr or peasant, I think. He never really explained himself when he picked the na." She smiled, popping another cricket into her mouth. "Quite the irony, isn’t it?"

I wasn’t sure whether to scoff or nod in admiration. That was the kind of poetic nonsense an Emperor might pull.

Xin Yune continued, speaking as though recalling a story that had only happened yesterday. "In my youth, I got involved with a commoner," she said, her voice dipping into sothing softer, almost nostalgic.

"It was a ti of strife," she went on. "The Empire was deteriorating, and no one knew what the future held. But despite that, I fell in love."

Her gaze flickered toward with a knowing look, as if daring to say sothing. I didn’t.

She huffed. "The Empire was so stupidly patriarchal back then. None of my sisters was even considered eligible for the throne. But of course, our children? That was a different story."

She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous, really."

Then, as if flipping a switch, she suddenly lit up. "Oh, but my son… oh, you should’ve seen him! Even as a child, he was brilliant."

And just like that, she was a proud mother bragging about her child’s achievents.

"He could read by the ti he was two," she said, gesturing grandly with a fried cricket in hand. "He wrote his first political treatise at five! The ministers thought he was so reincarnated sage! Ha!"

I listened, arms crossed, as Xin Yune launched into a full recounting of her son’s greatest exploits, all while happily munching on fried crickets like they were the greatest delicacy in the world.

Eventually, Xin Yune finished her fried crickets, brushing off the crumbs with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright," she said, looking up at expectantly. "Tanghulu."

I stared at her. "What?"

She gestured vaguely toward a street vendor a few stalls down. "I want tanghulu."

I sighed but walked over to buy so. Naturally, she made pay. Again. I grabbed one for myself too. By then, the sun had risen higher, and the streets were beginning to bustle. The heat was already creeping in, so I led us toward a shaded alleyway where the air was cooler.

She took a bite of her candied hawthorn and humd. "Mmm… I haven’t had this in ages."

As she chewed, she continued reminiscing.

"When I first pushed my cultivation," she said, twirling the stick between her fingers, "I never really intended to be the Divine Physician."

I listened quietly, watching as she reveled in her mories.

"I was just desperate at first. I had a child. I had to survive." She licked the sugar glaze off her lips. "But then… the more I studied, the more I understood. And before I knew it, people started calling the Divine Physician. Of course, after healing just enough… people."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Ridiculous title. I just didn’t like seeing people die if I could help it."

As she spoke, I noticed sothing.

She was aging.

It wasn’t sudden, nor was it drastic. But it was there. Mont to mont, her features were subtly shifting. The smoothness of her skin gave way to faint lines. The vitality in her eyes dimd just a little. If not for her makeup, it would have been more obvious.

When we first stepped onto the streets, she could have passed for soone in her twenties, maybe early thirties. Now? Now she looked… older. Middle-aged.

Even knowing what she told earlier, actually seeing it happen made my stomach feel oddly heavy.

Xin Yune either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care. She kept eating her tanghulu, eyes soft with nostalgia.

By the ti noon arrived, we found ourselves in a small eatery, seated at a modest wooden table by an open window. The scent of sizzling oil and fragrant broths filled the air, mingling with the lively chatter of other patrons.

Xin Yune leaned back, stretching slightly before resting her chin on one hand. "You had a question earlier," she said. "Sothing about lifespans and life force?"

I nodded. "Yeah. What exactly is the difference?"

She exhaled, tapping a finger on the table. "Lifespan is the distance between life and death. It’s the length of ti a person is supposed to exist before the world naturally reclaims them. Life force, on the other hand, is the power that fuels a living being, the energy that lets them move, think, breathe."

I frowned. "So if soone runs out of life force, do they die?"

"Not necessarily." She shook her head. "If you run out of life force, you’ll weaken, maybe fall into a coma, but you can recover. Lifespan, though… once that’s gone, that’s it. You don’t recover lifespan."

I clenched my jaw. "That makes things difficult."

Xin Yune glanced at . "You’re thinking about soone specific, aren’t you?"

I sighed. "I’ve lost people. Precious ones."

She said nothing, waiting for to continue.

"I tried to bring them back," I admitted. "But it didn’t work. I don’t know why."

Xin Yune studied carefully before leaning back with a soft hum. "If it were natural death, I could tell you why. But… you said they didn’t die naturally, right?"

I shook my head. "They were killed. By Shenyuan."

At that, her expression darkened. "Ah… him."

There was a weight in her voice, sothing more than just knowledge.

I narrowed my eyes. "You know sothing."

Xin Yune drumd her fingers against the table. "There’s a reason why Shenyuan was called the One True Death," she said. "People feared him, not just because he could kill, but because when he killed soone, they stayed dead."

A chill ran down my spine.

She continued, her voice quieter. "It’s not just power or skill. There’s sothing else at work. I’ve heard rumors… theories. So say he developed a secret technique that allowed him to access an afterlife—or so form of it."

I frowned. "An afterlife?"

She nodded. "Or sothing close to one. If true, then it’s possible he could cut off the remaining distance of a person’s natural lifespan, even if they hadn’t reached it yet."

I felt my fingers tighten into fists.

"So what you’re saying is," I muttered, "he didn’t just kill them, he erased their remaining lifespan?"

Xin Yune sighed. "That’s the theory, anyway. But if it’s true… well, it would explain why you couldn’t bring them back."

A heavy silence settled between us.

Just then, the waitress finally arrived at our table. She gave us a polite smile. "What will you two be having?"

Xin Yune didn’t miss a beat. "Noodles. Sothing spicy."

I exhaled slowly, loosening my fists. "Sa for ."

As the waitress left, I turned back to Xin Yune.

I pressed Xin Yune with a few more questions until I was satisfied. It seed there was a different form of afterlife in this world, sothing beyond reincarnation, being stuck as a ghost, or any of the folklore I’d heard. That complicated things.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "So what you’re saying is, there’s an entire other realm where the dead might go, and Shenyuan sohow had access to it?"

Xin Yune nodded, sipping on her tea. "If anyone knows more, it’d be Nongmin."

Of course, it’d be him.

She continued, a little too cheerfully, "So you should talk to him soon. And don’t kill him."

I scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, copy that," I smirked. "I’ll still touch him, though."

Xin Yune’s lips curled into an amused smile. "Oh, absolutely. That boy needs disciplining."

A thought crossed my mind, and I couldn't resist. "Should I make him call daddy?"

Xin Yune nearly choked on her tea. Then she threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, I would pay to see that!"

We kept laughing as our food arrived, spicy noodles in large steaming bowls.

Lunch was filled with ridiculous banter and dirty jokes, so so foul that even the old n at the next table gave us side-eyes. Xin Yune, despite her graceful bearing, was an absolute nace when it ca to raunchy humor. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

By the ti we finished eating, the sun had climbed higher, and the heat made the streets shimr. With nothing better to do, we resud our walk, wandering through the bustling city like we had all the ti in the world.

Xin Yune waved her hand, and an ornate umbrella appeared from her Storage Ring. She opened it with a practiced flick, casting a cool shadow over both of us. Before I could say anything, she wordlessly passed it to .

I took the umbrella, holding it over us as we walked.

After a few monts of silence, I asked, "Why are you spending your last day with and not your son?"

She smiled wistfully. "Because my son said I’d have more fun with you."

I scoffed. "See? He’s clearly just using you to get to ." I gave her a side-eye. "While you’re still alive, why don’t you kick his ass and teach him a lesson yourself?"

Xin Yune suddenly turned to , her expression unusually serious. "Never in my life have I ever laid a hand on him. And I won’t do so now."

I blinked. I hadn’t expected such a firm response. "…That was a poorly worded joke. Sorry."

She waved it off. "It’s fine." Then, after a mont, she spoke again. "Can I confess sothing to you?"

I raised a brow. "If you’re about to confess your love, I should warn you, you’re this close to walking past my strike zone." I held up two fingers, barely an inch apart.

Xin Yune burst into laughter, shaking her head. "That was an awful joke."

"I know," I admitted. "But go ahead. Whatever it is, I won’t tell anyone."

She exhaled, glancing up at the sky. "My son will probably see this conversation anyway, sooner or later," she mused. "His Heavenly Eye makes sure of that."

I frowned. "That thing lets him spy on people?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "But he sees more than most. Still, it should be fine."

I tilted my head. "Then what’s this confession about?"

Xin Yune looked down at her feet for a mont, then at . Her voice was softer this ti.

"I’m scared for my son," she admitted. “It’s just so scary…”

Xin Yune’s voice softened as she continued, her steps slow and asured.

"Do you know what it feels like to know a person… and then, suddenly, not recognize them anymore?" she asked.

I shook my head.

She exhaled. "The Heavenly Eye granted Nongmin wisdom and intelligence beyond his years. When he was young, he was just like any other child, he’d laugh at stupid jokes, play gas ant for his age. But as the years passed, and the Heavenly Eye grew stronger, his personality started changing."

I frowned.

To so extent, I could sympathize. My absurdly high charisma stat made act more mischievous and cranky than I normally would have been back on Earth. It wasn’t mind control, exactly, but stats did influence behavior. I was confident that the current was vastly different from who I used to be.

But the Emperor’s case… it was more extre.

Xin Yune sighed. "I’m scared for him," she confessed. "Not of him, but for him. I fear he might lose himself entirely."

I glanced at her. She was changing again. Aging. The once youthful woman from this morning now looked old enough to pass for my mother.

She suddenly stopped walking and turned to face . Her expression was serious, more than it had been all morning.

"Can I make a request?"

"Sure," I said.

She took a breath. "Can you save my son from himself?"

I humd, rubbing my chin. "Okidoki. I’ll adopt him, have him call daddy, we’ll play catch…"

"I am not joking," she interrupted, her voice sharp.

I let out a small chuckle and firmly grabbed her palm. "For a one-night stand, you sure are making things tough for ."