Immortal Paladin 237 Drink

237 Drink

The gatron didn’t so much land as it violently surrendered to gravity. We crashed into the peak of a jagged mountain, shearing off entire slabs of rock before tumbling down its slope like a drunken beast. The wreck tore through the forest below, carving a deep trench into the earth and leveling a path of destruction at least a hundred ters long. Trees cracked like dry bones, soil fountained upward, and the once-mighty ship finally skidded to a smoldering halt. Smoke billowed from the splintered hull. Sparks snapped across broken runes. The gatron was done.

I groaned, peeled myself off a snapped mast, and shouted, “Anyone dead?”

A pained voice called back, “I’m alive, Master!” It was Lu Gao.

I turned just in ti to see him stagger into view, soot-covered, bloody, and missing his entire left arm. The poor sap was trying to wave with the wrong side. I winced and raised my hand, weaving divine light through the air. With a flicker of gold, I cast Great Cure, followed by Blessed Regeneration. Bone and sinew blood anew like an ancient tree reversing ti, and his arm reford in a soft glow.

He flexed the fingers, looking faintly impressed. “Much better,” he said, swaying on his feet.

Alice had already pulled Gu Jie out from a collapsed section of the deck, carefully brushing debris off her shoulders. “There’s sothing different about this place,” she murmured, glancing around the ruined clearing. “I can feel it. Sothing subtle… but off.”

Jia Yun stumbled out next, visibly shaken. She looked down at her own hands and tried to summon her qi. Nothing ca. Her face paled. “I feel weaker,” she said, eyes wide. “Where did my cultivation go?”

I stepped forward, brushing the ash from my sleeves and grimacing at the weight pressing on my shoulders. It was heavier than spiritual gravity. It was the kind of pressure that gnawed at the soul, dulling reflexes and draining energy with every breath.

“This world… It’s not like the Hollowed World,” I explained slowly. “There’s a powerful restriction over it. A natural law or maybe sothing artificial… whatever it is, it suppresses high-level cultivation. Our connection to our qi realms is thinning out, like threads unraveling.”

As expected, the ones least affected by the False Earth's restriction were Gu Jie and Lu Gao. The invisible suppression in this realm capped our strength at the Fifth Realm, which happened to be Gu Jie's current cultivation level. She stood calmly, composed despite the strain, her aura rippling only slightly from the transition. Lu Gao was just below the ceiling, at the peak of the Fourth Realm, and didn’t seem too rattled either, aside from the scorch marks and newly grown arm, of course.

I reached inward and reclaid the souls I had embedded from Gu Jie and the gatron.

When I probed deeper, seeking my True Perfect Immortal Realm, I felt... nothing. That vast, star-filled sea where my full cultivation should’ve dwelled was sealed shut, as if locked behind glass. I was stuck at the Soul Recognition Realm. Jia Yun, too, it seed, as she gave a look.

Turning to Alice, I asked, “How are you feeling?”

She tilted her head, blinking slowly as if testing her own pulse. “I don’t know… I think I feel weaker,” she admitted. “It’s not like losing cultivation. It’s more like sothing’s eating away at my foundation. My Legacy feels… muffled.”

Warlocks didn’t rely on conventional cultivation. Alice had carved her path in blood and pacts, so it made sense that the restriction would affect her differently. Still, even her magic wasn’t untouched.

I took a long breath and glanced back at what remained of the gatron. The once-majestic ship was a twisted carcass, its sails shredded, and its hull cracked in half like an egg. One of the ballistae had impaled itself into a tree trunk, and several runic engravings glowed faintly, sputtering in cycles as if on life support. Ash and black smoke still wafted from the back engine, where Gu Jie’s reinforcent enchantnts had failed mid-flight.

She ran her hand along the battered hull, her voice oddly tender. “Master, it looks like we won’t be able to return to the Hollowed World the sa way we got here.”

“No shit,” I muttered, walking a few paces away. My attempt to access my pocket dinsion failed. The link sparked and died like a severed nerve.

“I can’t access my Item Box either,” I grumbled. “I should’ve taken out more items before we landed. What’s the point of peeking into the future if I can’t even foresee sothing this basic?”

Gu Jie didn’t answer, but the way she folded her arms said she agreed… Or maybe, she just thought I was being dramatic.

We walked farther from the wreck, scoping the edge of the forest. The earth was scorched where we’d skidded, torn into a long trench. Leaves fluttered like ash. Sowhere in the distance, a brook trickled, mocking us with its serenity.

Then a chill swept over us.

Figures erged from the misted edge of the trees. They were silent, masked, and... wearing fishnet stockings. A dozen at least, maybe more, each clad in a mix of ceremonial robes and distinctly impractical legwear. So carried curved blades, others polearms, but all of them moved with trained precision.

Instinctively, my group bristled.

Lu Gao unsheathed his sword with a flourish, purple flas licking along the blade’s edge. Gu Jie summoned her whip, its tip sparking with silver arcs. Jia Yun twirled her fan with deadly grace, wind gathering at her heels. Alice summoned her scythe in slow and ominous circles as she flared her dark energy boiling in her shadow.

I raised my hand. “Wait. Don’t attack.” I extended my Divine Sense, threading through the group of strangers. And that’s when I felt… faith. Raw, visceral, and directed toward . It wasn't overwhelming like the faith I used to feel during my earlier exploits in this world, but it was unmistakable. These people… revered .

“They’re friendlies,” I said, lowering my hand. “Stand down.”

At that mont, as if on cue, the masked strangers fell to their knees in synchronized motion. One by one, they prostrated themselves in the dirt, foreheads touching the ground.

“Uuuh…” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as the crowd of masked people kept their heads bowed. “Guys, et the Night Blades.” I gestured vaguely to the folks still kneeling in reverence. “Night Blades, et my… er… family.”

Most of the masked figures were won, clad in tight black robes that emphasized speed over modesty, their arms and legs exposed through artful cuts in their uniforms. Their masks were uncanny, white porcelain interwoven with strips of carved dark wood, shaped in serene, impassive expressions that didn’t quite match the dangerous aura they radiated. This was the Night Blades, a subcomponent of the Guardians I had established years ago, back when I still had the leisure to dream up factions like so overeager young lord in a martial arts drama.

From among them, a woman raised her head and unceremoniously ripped off her wooden mask. “Lord Wei, you got married?” she asked, her voice sharp, eyes narrowed, and tone almost betrayed.

It was Ye Yong, still the sa as I rembered.

“Married?” I blinked. That was the first question she had for ? “Ye Yong, seriously?”

She looked genuinely offended. That stung more than I cared to admit. Alice crossed her arms beside and raised a brow, clearly amused.

Lu Gao leaned over and whispered, “Master, who are they? Your version of the Phoenix Guard?”

“Shut it, Lu Gao,” I snapped, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “These fellows were once mbers of the 112th Bronze Squadron, an assembly of so-called undesirables the military didn’t know what to do with, so they were dumped into the weakest unit. The Night Blades began as a small group of won and n, but over the years, they grew in number and purpose.” I looked around. “But this… sothing’s off.”

They shouldn’t have known we’d land here.

I scanned the treeline again, and that’s when I saw a figure erging from the darker boughs. Her presence was muted, no grand entrance, no oppressive pressure. Just… there. She moved with a quiet grace that made even the shadows curl away.

She no longer wore shrine maiden silks or regalia fit for a demigoddess. Her clothes were black, plain, utilitarian, and blended her perfectly into the Night Blades. But even in her anonymity, there was no mistaking her. I whispered her na as the chill ran up my spine.

“Wen Yuhan…”

The woman whose body I stole.

Her appearance confird my suspicion. This was not so convenient reunion. The Night Blades hadn’t stumbled on us by accident. They had been waiting. She had been waiting.

She approached without hurry, a sliver of a smirk tugging at her lips, eyes glimring with mischief and sothing else I couldn’t quite place. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet and clear, slicing through the silence like a knife.

“It’s been five years already, Da Wei,” she said, pausing just a few steps from . “A deal’s a deal.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“You have to kill the Heavenly Demon for … or else.”

She smiled, not warmly, not cruelly, but cryptically.

It hit like a falling mountain. A sudden click of mory, instinct, and foresight rging into one terrible realization.

“Motherfucker,” I cursed under my breath.

Wen Yuhan tilted her head, almost fondly. “Such a crass mouth… like always.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You knew Jue Bu was going to ‘expel’ from the False Earth. That’s why you risked trying to steal my body. You knew I’d be tossed into the Greater Universe. You planned it. Even if you lost that tug of war, you are confident you will be able to regain agency.”

She offered no denial, only a smile that barely reached her eyes. It wasn’t warmth she offered… It was inevitability.

“What if I don’t kill the Heavenly Demon?” I asked. “Say it. Or else… what?”

Wen Yuhan’s expression didn’t change. “We made a binding vow, Da Wei. You don’t want your karma to suffer.”

I scoffed, folding my arms. “You’ll have to do better than that. Karma? You think that’s enough to make move?”

She studied for a second, then nodded as if accepting a truth she already suspected. “I’ve always thought your reckless foolishness was your greatest flaw. But no—” she paused, “—it’s your greatest strength. You’re right. You don’t care about karma. The sa way you don’t believe in God.”

I blinked at that. Of course she knew. She’d seen my mories when I possessed her. She knew all my contradictions. A Paladin who didn’t believe in divinity. A preacher of faith who trusted only in grit, fists, and cleverness. I didn’t even pretend to be offended. It just made wary.

And then it hit . There was another play she had in mind when she tried to take my body. This wasn’t about just karma or duty. There was sothing else…sothing far more dangerous.

She smiled again with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Since the threat of bad karma doesn’t scare you, let show you another stick.”

I tried to laugh it off and deflect with my usual wit. “Just don’t put it inside , I won’t like that.”

But Wen Yuhan didn’t laugh. “If you refuse to uphold your end of the bargain, I’ll release knowledge of [34Pi h] to the Supre Beings.”

My head throbbed. That damn word… whatever she’d just said… was censored in my mind, like the universe itself refused to let hear it without consequences. But I knew what it referred to. A secret I promised to forget with ng Po’s soup. A truth not ant for mortals and immortals alike, and certainly not ant to be bartered for favor or power.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to be self-destructive,” she said. “Yes, if I surrender my soul to a Supre Being, that’s the end of … but what about you? What about your ho? What about Earth?”

“Damn,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “You really know how to tug at my heartstrings.”

Her expression didn’t change. “So? What’s it going to be, Da Wei?”

I raised my head slowly, watching her carefully. “Ever heard the phrase ‘fight fire with fire’?”

Her brow furrowed. The flicker of confusion blood across her face like a slow, dawning storm.

But I wasn’t speaking to her anymore. My eyes didn’t leave hers, but the question was for soone else entirely. “Gu Jie,” I said, “what are the chances I slaughter Wen Yuhan here before she tattles to a Supre Being?”

Gu Jie answered without hesitation. “She will definitely die. So of the Night Blades will perish with her. Lu Gao, too. I will lose an arm. You will cripple her. And then Lady Alice will scatter her soul into oblivion.”

And Wen Yuhan heard it all. Her smile began to falter. What had been confidence turned to hesitation, then fear, and finally… recognition. She knew now: she’d misplayed her final card.

As if on cue, Lu Gao stepped forward, sword drawn, defiance etched into every line of his body. “I’m ready to die for you, Master. Just say the word.”

Wen Yuhan took a breath. Her shoulders rose and fell. “Alright,” she said softly, voice stripped of artifice, “I give up.”

She raised her hands, not in surrender but in compromise. “Let’s… renew the deal.”

I stared at her for a mont longer. Then I nodded.

Of course, I agreed to renew the deal. I had so use for her, after all, maybe more than one. Wen Yuhan was clever, manipulative, and not entirely trustworthy, but I’d rather have that kind of talent pointed at my enemies than lurking at my back. Still, terms needed to be reestablished. She needed to rember who was at the head of the table.

From my Storage Ring, I drew a small wooden table and two stools. With a wave of my hand, I summoned a wooden bowl filled with tea. I sat first and gestured to the seat across from . “First,” I said, “let’s have tea.”

Alice appeared silently behind Wen Yuhan, her presence enough to make the air tense. She didn’t speak. She simply placed both hands on Wen Yuhan’s shoulders and guided her to the stool with gentle, iron-firm insistence. Wen Yuhan sat, clearly not by choice.

“Night Blades, leave us,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Secure the periter… or sothing.”

Ye Yong raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Or sothing,” she echoed, as if she were long resigned to my whims. She stood up and waved her arm in a circle. “Night Blades, with . Lord Wei has returned… We’ll watch the periter.”

Their exit was imdiate and clean, silent feet in fishnet stockings, blades sheathed and senses sharpened. They vanished into the mist and trees without another word.

Wen Yuhan didn’t speak at first. Her eyes went to the bowl of tea, then to . Her fingers hovered near the rim, not yet touching.

“That’s called a ng Po soup,” I said plainly.

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m insane?”

“Drink,” I replied.

She slamd her palm on the table. The bowl trembled. Liquid sloshed close to the edge.

“If I drink this, I could lose everything,” she hissed. “My identity, my mories—”

“Drink,” I repeated, voice calm and unwavering.

“You cross this line, Da Wei, and I swear—”

“Drink,” I said again, not loud, but with finality.

She stared at for a long mont. The fire in her eyes didn’t waver, but her fingers moved. They curled around the bowl. With a trembling hand, she raised it to her lips.

And drank.