Immortal Paladin 123 Daddy Issues

123 Daddy Issues

The palace halls were a quiet kind of vast. Silent, but not peaceful. Like the place had seen too much to pretend otherwise.

General Zhu Shin walked beside . He was a quiet storm of righteousness wrapped in steel and discipline. I liked him more than most of the Emperor’s people, at least Zhu Shin didn’t hide his contempt. That made him honest, in his own blunt way.

We reached the final gate, towering gold-inlaid doors carved with dragons and phoenixes locked in eternal combat. Zhu Shin stopped, shoulders squared, eyes forward. I stopped too, turning slightly to catch his expression.

“This is as far as I go,” he said, voice gruff. “No man treads further unless summoned, and even then, few walk out the sa.”

“Appreciate the send-off,” I said.

He didn’t laugh. Of course, he didn’t.

“Da Wei.” He turned to fully now, lips tight. “If I learn you’ve disrespected His Majesty… I’ll kill you myself.”

I snorted. “You’re not the first to say that.” If I could, I’d share with him my chat logs.

He narrowed his eyes. “I an it.”

“So do I,” I said, then tilted my head. “Tell sothing, Zhu Shin. Can you fight a Hell’s Gate by yourself?”

He blinked. The briefest mont of confusion flickered across his face. “What did you say?”

“Huh. So you have heard of it.”

“You… That was you?”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His silence stretched like a drawn bowstring. But I caught the little twitch in his jaw as the realization settled in.

“Interesting that you knew what a Hell’s Gate was, though,” I said, stepping past him. “Go on. You’ve seen enough. Please kindly fuck off.”

He didn’t move to stop . That was good. I wasn’t in the mood to start a fight in the entryway of the palace. Once I was sure he was gone, I placed both palms on the massive golden doors and pushed.

They groaned open like the world itself was holding its breath.

The Imperial Throne Room was as theatrical as ever. Sunlight filtered through glass murals high above, painting the marbled floors with golden lotus patterns. Pillars lined the hall like silent judges, and at the end, seated on the throne wrapped in living starlight, was the Emperor.

Not the doll-sized and chibi version that existed last night. No, this was the real one. Full adult form. Regal. Stoic. Cold.

I walked with no bow, no kneel, no courtesy. Just a tired man striding across polished floors like he’d misplaced sothing in the room.

“Good morning,” I said.

His cheek twitched. Barely, but I caught it.

“What’s with the cold reception?” I asked, spreading my arms. “Co on, call Daddy, little Nongmin.”

The silence after that was damn near holy. Like the throne room itself had stopped breathing.

The Emperor inhaled slowly and deeply, as if ditating, as if suppressing so divine urge to smite into a pile of morally grey ashes.

His golden eyes t mine.

“Da Wei,” he said slowly, voice low and even, “You test .”

“I’m a teacher,” I said. “It’s in my job description.”

Another breath. A longer pause.

He was trying so hard not to explode, I swear I could see a vein forming on his forehead.

“You’ve co,” he said.

“Surprised I made it?”

“No.” He stood now, descending the steps with all the grace of a god who was used to being obeyed. “But I had hoped you’d co back a little less… insufferable.”

“Aw,” I smiled. “But then I wouldn’t be .”

He didn’t answer. Just stared. Silent judgnt woven into the rise and fall of his breathing.

I could feel it, the weight of him. He wasn’t posturing anymore. This was him, bare and burning behind the mask.

I t that pressure with a smirk.

“You missed ,” I said.

This ti, his other cheek twitched.

And that, I decided, was a win.

I probably should have stopped after the “call Daddy” line. But that’s the thing about , once I get going, it’s hard to stop.

“You know,” I continued, casually strolling closer to the throne, “I fucked your mommy. So does that technically make your daddy?”

I swear the silence in that throne room shattered like glass.

Nongmin, His Radiant Majesty, Lord of Ten Thousand Lights, Blinding Glory of the Heavenly Eye, etcetera, etcetera… stiffened. Not a twitch this ti. A full-body shudder. His composure cracked just enough for to see sothing underneath: mortification, barely concealed rage, and maybe, maybe, a whisper of panic.

“Such crass language,” he snapped, “is not permitted in my court.”

“Oh please,” I said, waving him off, “your mom’s so hot it’d be disrespectful not to be a little crude. A crass complint is more honest than a thousand poetically-induced taphors. Xin Yune would probably agree.”

That did it. His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white.

“Enough,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get this over with.”

Oho~! Victory. Again.

I grinned. “That’s a win. You didn’t even deny it.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “Three strikes. None on the face.”

I gasped. “Three slaps! Correction is important, little Nongmin.”

He glared at , face blank but twitching at the corners like he wanted to stab with his eyes.

I folded my arms, stepping in until we were just a breath apart. “And I won’t budge. It’s either three slaps to the face… or to the rear.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I dare. You must be disciplined. It was your mother’s dying wish. Her final command, sealed with lotus motes and tears of love… ‘Slap my son, Da Wei. Slap him hard.’”

“There was no such dying wish,” he snapped.

“Maybe not in those words,” I said, “but she did give permission to hit you. Said you might need it. And don’t act like you weren’t listening in. You heard her. You know what she said.”

His jaw clenched. His teeth were grinding. I could almost hear the Imperial Molars turning into powder.

Half furious, half embarrassed. It was a beautiful look on him.

“You are a disgrace,” he muttered.

“Hey,” I said, tapping his chest lightly. “You’re the one who invited back.”

“And I regret it every mont you open your mouth.”

“Too bad,” I smiled. “You still got three slaps coming.”

His hands trembled, fingers twitching like he was debating whether to unleash a world-ending technique or just scream into the void.

He didn’t deny it though. Not really.

Which ant... we both knew the slaps were happening.

“You know,” I said, pacing in front of the throne like it was a classroom and he was the troublemaker with gum under his desk, “just to make it fair, how about you slap three tis too?”

Nongmin, Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire, wielder of celestial intent and unshakable dignity, narrowed his eyes at .

“I’d break my hand.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Co on, I’ll turn off my reflect ability. Hell, I won’t use any abilities at all. No intent, no body reinforcent. Just . You don’t get to use yours either, obviously.”

He stared at . Hard. Like he was trying to peer into my soul and find the exact point where I broke the rules of the universe and replaced divine decorum with whatever this was.

Then, he muttered, “I don’t want to humiliate myself further.”

That gave pause.

What had he seen? What vision, what prophecy, what divine script foretold that even slapping might end in embarrassnt?

I gave a casual shrug. “Well then,” I said, clapping my hands together, “shall I start?”

He exhaled like a man about to face his taxes and a tribulation at the sa ti.

“Fine,” he said, closing his eyes. “Three slaps. On the rear. No abilities. That’s my condition.”

I blinked. I genuinely wasn’t expecting him to fold.

“…Kinky,” I said slowly, lips twitching. “Never thought you’d want your daddy to slap you on the ass.”

His eyes snapped open. “I am the Emperor. I have a responsibility to my people. I cannot risk a swollen face in front of my subjects.”

“Ah yes,” I nodded solemnly. “But a swollen butt is fine?”

He ignored . Of course.

With all the grace of a man preparing for execution, Nongmin descended the steps of his throne. His robes whispered with every movent, golden silk gliding over his fra until he stood before like a condemned man walking the plank.

Without a word, he turned, held his hands out in front of him, and then pointed his rear at .

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, stiff as a stone pillar.

I stood there, arms folded, staring at the most powerful man on the continent offering the royal ass.

This world was insane.

But damn if I wasn’t going to enjoy every second of it.

Right, no abilities.

But I did say I wouldn’t use any active abilities.

So, like any stubborn old man with too many cheat codes etched into his bones, I quietly switched to TriDivine: Divine Might.

It was passive.

Didn’t count.

I raised my palm, stared at it for a second, and imdiately realized how deeply awkward this was. I an… just look at this situation.

We were alone in the throne room. Just the two of us.

The Emperor, in full formal robes, was standing stiff with his arms out, back turned, rear presented like I was about to perform so sacred rite.

And in a way, I was. A sacrant of discipline. A ceremony of karmic balance.

One palm. One ass.

“I should not have suggested slapping the rear,” I muttered to myself.

I took a breath. This was about perspective. Framing. Spiritual alignnt.

I was technically—soulfully, ntally, and physically—an old man. A tired teacher. A man who had once spent his mornings keeping fourth graders from stabbing each other with pencils.

And Nongmin?

Nongmin was… not really an adult. He looked the part now, yes. But in cosmic ti?

He was a baby. No, worse. A naughty child.

Slapping an infant on the bum normally only made sense if you were resuscitating them or checking for a rash.

This wasn’t that.

And yet… I raised my hand.

The Emperor didn’t flinch, but his shoulders tensed. A bead of sweat traced down the back of his neck.

“Discipline is love,” I muttered under my breath. “This is for your own good.”

And just like that, I swung my palm.

SMACK.

The sound echoed through the throne room like thunder trapped in a jar.

Nongmin grunted, the breath caught in his throat. His spine stiffened like a snapped tree. A faint shudder passed through him, dignity cracking, if only slightly.

I stared at my palm.

Opened it.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

The skin was warm.

There were a lot of things I expected to feel in that mont: triumph, amusent, childish glee.

But mostly I just felt weird.

Deeply, profoundly weird.

"...Two more to go," I whispered.

For so reason, after that first slap, I felt like I was the one being punished.

It wasn't the motion or the sound, and certainly not the contact. It was sothing deeper. Like sowhere in the vast tapestry of fate, a celestial judge was shaking his head at in disappointnt. I was a grown man, slapping another grown man's rear, inside the most sacred hall of the empire. What had my life beco?

It was tough to visualize it otherwise.

I sighed, letting my hand fall to my side.

“Nongmin,” I said, my voice quieter now, “tell sothing.”

“What is it?” he asked, still standing stiff as a pole, rear dutifully presented.

“What was your mother like? Or your father?”

There was a mont of silence. Just the soft hum of the Imperial throne room, that eternal, quiet pressure in the air. I half-expected him to ignore or toss back a sharp retort.

But he didn’t.

He spoke, voice calm, asured, but… softer than usual.

“My father,” he began, “was a farr. A mortal, through and through. No cultivation, no great aspirations. Just a man who tilled the earth and kept his hands calloused and his back bent.”

I blinked.

He continued, “He died of old age. Peacefully. No glory. No great funeral. Just a simple burial, beneath a plum tree he planted.”

I waited, unsure of what to say.

“And my mother,” Nongmin said, “was a runaway princess. From an inferior Empire whose standards would never match the bigger powers out there. She abandoned her titles, her responsibilities, everything, because she wanted to live a quiet life. She t my father in the fields. They fell in love in the most mundane, mortal way. With dirty hands and stolen glances.”

That painted a picture.

Nongmin stood there like a statue, but his voice carried mory. Pain.

“I used to be disappointed in him,” he admitted. “My father. I was… ashad. As a child, you dream of heroes. Of fathers who command legions or split mountains. And instead, I had a man who grunted more than he spoke and couldn’t wield a single thread of qi.”

He paused. The weight of that silence hung heavy.

“But… when my father’s ti ca, when his breath grew short and his body frail, she never once left his side. Not for a second. She cooked, she cleaned, and she carried him. She sang to him when he couldn’t sleep and held him when he cried.”

There was no emotion in his voice, but I could feel the truth of it.

“And I realized,” Nongmin finished, “that there was nothing shaful about him at all. That love he shared with her, in its simplest form, could be stronger than any technique. All lives end, yes. But the truly important thing is what we make out of it.”

I stared at him.

Then I lifted my palm again.

SMACK.

He grunted, staggering slightly from the second hit.

“One more to go,” I said, my tone less playful now. “But finish the story.”

I wanted to hear the end.

"The rest," Nongmin said, still turned away, "was history."

He didn’t look at . Just stood there, the air of royalty clinging to him even as his royal rear had just been smacked twice by a wandering outsider who used to teach gym class.

"You don’t need to hear the ending," he added. "You’ve already been part of it."

There was a pause, then he turned, facing properly again, his imperial bearing intact.

“Thank you,” he said, and even now it felt surreal hearing it co from him. “For giving my mother a good ti in her last days.”

I looked at him for a long mont, then broke the silence with a sigh. “She deserved it.”

I ant it.

But my tone shifted as I t his gaze again. “Now you tell sothing.”

His eyes sharpened.

“What happened in Deepmoor Continent?” I asked. “What really happened with Shenyuan?”

He didn’t flinch.

“You engineered our eting,” I said, taking a step closer. “You dragged in. And people I cherished, people I cared about, they died because of it.”

The heat in my chest hadn’t gone away, no matter how much we joked or how many slaps I gave him. I could joke about being his daddy all day, but at the end of it, this weight had been sitting inside like a blade. Cold. Heavy. Embedded.

He held my gaze for a mont, then said, “You’re right.”

That alone made pause.

He continued, “Your anger is justified. I would not forgive soone who orchestrated such a thing, either. But I must clarify, Deepmoor was… unplanned.”

I raised a brow.

“I foresaw traces of Shenyuan,” he said, “but not the exact outco. He found a blind spot, an actual blind spot in my Heavenly Eye. I had to react. Last-minute. Desperate. The convergence that led you to him was an improvisation… not manipulation.”

I wanted to believe that. I really did.

“And Xin Yune?” I asked. “Was that an improvisation too? Or did you send her to just to play with my temper?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“I sent her to you because I wanted her to leave this world happy.”

That made go still.

“She knew she didn’t have much ti,” he said. “And when she asked about my plans… when she learned your na, she laughed. She found your na to be amusing. She asked if she could see you. I arranged it.”

Wow… so Da Wei had hidden rizz, was that it?

“And I thought,” he continued, “if she had soone who could bring her peace, even if only for a little while, it would be worth any risk.”

I stared at him. The anger didn’t vanish, but it dulled. Blunted.

He bowed his head, not in so dramatic display, but with enough gravity to make the air still.

“I am sorry,” Nongmin said. “For the ones you lost. For what you suffered.”

My hand, already lowered, lost its strength. I helped him back up. There was no anger in the gesture. No tension.

Just tiredness.

“I’ll help you,” he added. “Whatever resources you need to resurrect them: treasures, rituals, people, I’ll grant them.”

I looked at his face, and the strange thing was… I believed him.

I patted his shoulder. “Seems I didn’t have much of a choice to stay mad at you, huh? You really sched your way right out of my wrath.”

The faintest twitch played at the corner of his mouth.

I let my hand drop. “In mory of your mother, I won’t interfere with your Empire. I won’t be your ally, but I won’t be your obstacle either.”

He nodded once, solemnly.

“But,” I added, “if those Seven Imperial Houses try anything stupid, even a toe out of line, I will rain down chaos on them like a divine toddler with a paintbrush and zero impulse control.”

His eyes flicked up to et mine. “Understood.”

A mont passed, and then he asked, “What about the final strike?”

I smirked. “I’ll save it.”

He blinked.

“If you misbehave,” I warned, “I’ll slap you good in front of all your ministers and concubines. Real loud. Make sure they know who raised you.”

He exhaled, sowhere between a sigh and a quiet huff of disbelief. “That will not happen. My interest remains the betternt of the people.”

I nodded slowly. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He looked at sharply. “My Heavenly Eye sees…”

“Doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. “You still won’t know everything. Not about people. Not about yourself. Heavenly Eye or not.”

He didn’t respond to that.

But he didn’t argue either.

So I took a step back, looked around the throne room once more.

Two strikes down. Last one to go.

And maybe, I'd co one step closer to forgiving him.