Immortal Paladin 499 Shadow Sovereign

499 Shadow Sovereign

[POV: Hei Mao]

Hei Mao exhaled slowly, the sound carrying a faint weight that lingered in the still air of Luminary’s Rest. The dim glow of spirit lanterns cast long, wavering shadows across the stone floor, their light reflecting faintly against his eyes as he looked down at the two cats before him.

The Yin Ghost Soul, a shifting mass of soft darkness shaped into a small, feminine black cat, pressed herself affectionately against the Yang Ghost Soul. Her form rippled like ink disturbed in water, while the Yang counterpart remained composed, his white fur seemingly woven from quiet, luminous essence.

The contrast between them felt deliberate, almost symbolic, though Hei Mao no longer questioned such things. Too many strange developnts had followed his death and return, each one layering over the last until absurdity beca routine.

The Yin Ghost Soul let out a soft, pleased “ow,” her tail curling as she nuzzled closer to Yang. He, in turn, flicked his ear in mild irritation, though his composure never broke. When he spoke, his voice carried the calm authority of Hei Mao’s master, refined and distant, as though filtered through mory itself.

“She said you have to stop her.”

Hei Mao’s gaze shifted slightly, his expression tightening with restrained impatience. He already knew who “her” referred to, and the re implication was enough to stir a dull ache behind his eyes.

“Co on, Yang,” he replied, his tone edged with fatigue rather than defiance. “You don’t have to be like that. Hei i will be fine. I can’t exactly lock her up like a prisoner, can I? Let’s just move on to the lessons. This disciple still has ti, and rulership isn’t exactly simple.”

The Yang Ghost Soul’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the faint glow within them intensifying. He did not imdiately respond, as if weighing the value of Hei Mao’s words against sothing deeper, sothing rooted in the countless mories he carried. Those mories were not truly his, yet they were inseparable from him. Fragnts of a master who had lived many lives, who had claid knowledge through Divine Possession, now lingered within this quiet, watchful form.

“No,” Yang finally said, his voice firr now. “This is important. Lessons can wait. You already possess Divine Possession. If knowledge is what you seek, you can take it from at any ti.”

The Yin Ghost Soul yawned lazily, her shadowy form stretching in a way that seed both feline and unnatural. Her voice followed, softer, slightly uneven, as though language was still settling into her being.

“You have to listen to Yang-yang.”

Hei Mao’s eyes flicked toward her, a faint crease forming between his brows. She had only recently begun speaking, and each word still carried a peculiar cadence that reminded him of sothing distant, sothing familiar in a way he could not fully articulate. The Ezekiels ca to mind, though he did not dwell on it.

Yin tilted her head, her dark form rippling faintly as she continued.

“Did you forget? Hei i was ant to beco the bride of War… one of the four rulers of the Underworld. Imagine, the commotion it would cost if War’s people finds her frolicking around?”

The words settled heavily in the space between them. Even the ambient Qi seed to grow still, as if listening.

“Because she stays here,” Yin went on, her tone drifting between casual and observant, “you can watch her… help her grow. And here, we can give her everything. There is nothing lacking.”

She paused, her gaze shifting toward Hei Mao with a faint, almost apologetic softness.

“Sorry, Mao-mao… but your sister is not really smart.”

Hei Mao’s expression stiffened, though he said nothing imdiately. A quiet tension flickered across his features before fading just as quickly. His mind briefly wandered, touching upon mories he did not often revisit. Hei i’s laughter, her confusion, the way she clung to simple things with a childlike clarity that the world had never allowed her to grow beyond.

It was not her fault.

He knew that.

Still, the bluntness lingered.

“Fine… fine,” he muttered at last, the resistance in his voice dissolving into reluctant acceptance.

The air around him shifted as he straightened slightly, his presence sharpening. Qi stirred beneath his skin, subtle yet precise, threading through his ridians before gathering at his throat.

When he spoke again, it was with Qi Speech.

“Co to , Zhu Chin… Wei Bao.”

The throne room of Luminary’s Rest stood in stark contrast to everything Hei Mao had once known. Polished obsidian pillars lined the vast chamber, their surfaces reflecting distorted silhouettes of anyone who passed between them.

Veins of pale spiritual light pulsed faintly beneath the floor, forming intricate patterns that resembled a living formation array rather than re decoration. Every detail spoke of authority, of permanence, of sothing ant to endure even in a realm as unstable as the Underworld.

Hei Mao stepped forward and ascended the steps without haste, his expression unreadable as he lowered himself onto the throne. The seat itself was carved from a single piece of dark crystal, cold and unyielding, yet it responded subtly to his presence, as if recognizing him. He leaned back slightly, one arm resting against the side, though the posture carried more restraint than comfort.

He did not belong to this kind of grandeur, and yet he could not leave it behind.

As the protector of Luminary’s Rest, his existence had beco anchored to it.

Beyond its borders lay a chaotic expanse where ghost kings clashed endlessly, where cultivation was reduced to a brutal cycle of devouring and being devoured. There was no structure there, no order, only hunger wearing the guise of power.

The heavy doors at the far end of the hall opened with a low, resonant groan.

Two figures entered.

Wei Bao walked with asured steps, his aged appearance concealing the oppressive aura that coiled beneath his skin. His graying hair frad a face lined with experience, his eyes sharp and calculating. Beside him moved Zhu Chin, her presence far more flamboyant, her loose garnts draped in a way that revealed more than they concealed. Her purple hair flowed freely, and her expression carried a theatrical reverence that never quite reached her eyes.

They stopped at an appropriate distance.

Zhu Chin was the first to speak, her voice rising with exaggerated devotion as she spread her arms slightly.

“Oh Child of Prophecy who prevailed over death and rightful sovereign of the shadow world, I offer my eternal and undying adoration to your boundless greatness.”

Hei Mao did not react. His gaze passed over her as though the display held no weight at all.

Wei Bao followed with a far more restrained gesture, bringing his fist into his palm as he bowed slightly.

“Lord Hei Mao, your loyal servant stands ready. Command , and it shall be done.”

Hei Mao’s fingers tapped once against the armrest before he spoke, his tone direct and devoid of embellishnt.

“Pick up my sister for . She has taken the Mighty Duck with her, so her speed will not be slow. Anticipate her movent rather than chase it. Yin will accompany you.”

The mont his words settled, his shadow stirred unnaturally.

A black, amorphous shape rose from it, coalescing into the familiar blob-like form of the Yin Ghost Soul. She stretched as she erged, her presence carrying that sa quiet, shadowy fluidity. A second figure followed imdiately after, the Yang Ghost Soul stepping out with composed stillness, his white form sharply contrasting hers.

“I will go with her,” Yang stated without hesitation.

Hei Mao exhaled through his nose, a faint trace of annoyance surfacing before fading just as quickly.

“Fine.”

His gaze shifted back to the two subordinates before him, signaling the end of discussion.

Wei Bao straightened slightly and spoke first, his tone steady.

“Then this servant will take his leave at once and ensure the young miss is returned safely.”

Zhu Chin placed a hand lightly against her chest, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“For your sake, my sovereign, I shall personally ensure that no harm cos to your dear sister, even if it ans outpacing this old man beside .”

Wei Bao’s expression did not change, though a subtle tension flickered between them.

Hei Mao raised a hand slightly, dismissing the exchange before it could continue.

“Enough. Carry out the task and return without unnecessary conflict. You are dismissed.”

Both figures bowed, though the nature of their gestures differed in tone, before turning and departing the hall. The massive doors closed behind them, leaving the chamber in a quiet that felt heavier than before.

Hei Mao leaned back again, his gaze drifting upward for a brief mont.

He wanted to leave.

The thought surfaced plainly, without disguise. The vastness beyond Luminary’s Rest called to him in a way that was difficult to ignore, yet responsibility held him firmly in place. Even now, with Yang gone, whatever lessons he had planned would be delayed.

A soft sound broke the stillness.

Footsteps approached, unhurried yet confident.

Hei Mao’s gaze lowered as Gu Jie entered the throne room.

Her presence had changed.

She carried herself with a refinent that reflected both her cultivation and her growing authority, her figure more defined, her aura more controlled. Yet sothing about her remained just out of alignnt, a subtle inconsistency that did not escape Hei Mao’s notice.

He studied her shadow briefly, and the conclusion ca naturally.

This was not the original.

“How are you doing?” Hei Mao asked, his tone casual, though his eyes remained sharp. “And congratulations on reaching the Tenth Realm already. That was fast. You are even breaking Brother Yuen Fu’s record. Please tell you are not relying on so questionable thod to get there.”

The ntion of Yuen Fu carried its own weight. That man’s tendency to push himself into ruin and claw his way back through increasingly dubious ans was not sothing Hei Mao found reassuring, especially not when similar patterns began to appear elsewhere.

“I’m fine,” said Gu Jie succintly.

Hei Mao continued to observe her, the unease settling deeper.

He trusted her.

That had not changed.

But trust did not erase what he could see.

She had always preferred to operate from the shadows, to move pieces without drawing attention, even from their master. The realization that the real Gu Jie had already slipped away toward Losten while leaving this clone behind only reinforced that pattern.

He exhaled lightly.

“I hope you are not doing anything too dangerous.”

A brief pause followed before he asked, more directly this ti, “What is it?”

Gu Jie’s gaze t his, her voice calm and precise.

“Father is on his way here. You should prepare to receive him. Also, it seems your ti will not remain free for long.”

The mont she finished speaking, Hei Mao felt it.

A pressure descended upon the edges of Luminary’s Rest. It did not creep or conceal itself. It announced its presence openly, pressing against the boundaries of the city like a declaration.

An Ascended Soul.

And not a subtle one.

Hei Mao’s eyes shifted toward the distance, his expression flattening into sothing colder.

He rose from the throne.

“Then I will deal with it myself,” he said, his voice steady as the air around him began to stir faintly. “Tell the Ezekiels to stand down. This one is mine.”

Hei Mao vanished from the throne room in a ripple of shadow, and in the next instant he stood high above Luminary’s Rest. The city stretched beneath him, no longer the quiet refuge it once was, but a growing domain filled with movent and purpose.

Structures of dark stone and spiritual light interwove in deliberate design, while countless souls moved through its streets, each bound by fragile order in a realm that knew only chaos.

From this vantage point, everything seed almost stable.

His eyes shifted slightly, and the world changed.

A massive shadow revealed itself, sothing no ordinary sight could perceive. It stretched across the outskirts of his domain like a stain pressing against reality, its presence layered with the unmistakable pressure of multiple Ascended Souls. Hei Mao traced its origin without hesitation, his expression flattening as he locked onto the source.

Another Shadow Step.

The space around him folded, and he reappeared instantly before them.

Six figures stood gathered amidst a wasteland of scattered bones and fragnted essence. Each one radiated power that distorted the air, their forms wrapped in layers of immortality that shimred faintly with every subtle movent. These were not ordinary ghosts. These were kings of the Underworld, beings who had clawed their way to dominance through endless devouring.

At their center sat the strongest among them.

He lounged atop a crude throne of bones, one leg draped lazily over the other. In his hand, he held an Ezekiel by the skull, lifting it slightly as though inspecting an object rather than a being. His gaze sharpened with interest as it settled on Hei Mao.

“At least you are not blind,” the Ghost King said, his tone amused yet edged with sothing probing. He tilted his head slightly, examining the construct in his grasp. “Who created these summoned creatures? Was it you? Or perhaps… are you a Shén?”

His grip tightened slightly around the Ezekiel’s skull, though not enough to destroy it.

“Only through the Privilege of Creation can one grant both wisdom and life, or so the old records claim,” he continued, almost conversationally. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Let us make this simple, lad. Hand over half the souls within your little city, and I will keep quiet about what you might be. You would not want the Supre Death turning his attention here, would you? I have heard he erases entire systems if he so much as suspects a Shén is hiding within them.”

A low ripple of laughter spread among the others.

One of the Ghost Kings crossed his arms, his hollow eyes gleaming with mockery. “A child playing ruler in a place like this? He should be grateful we are offering terms at all.”

Another let out a dry chuckle, his voice rasping like wind through a graveyard. “Look at him standing there. Does he think himself untouchable because he built walls around frightened souls?”

A third tilted his head, his grin sharp and predatory. “Perhaps he does not understand where he is. The Underworld does not reward kindness. It devours it.”

Their amusent fed into itself, a chorus of derision that echoed faintly through the desolate terrain.

Hei Mao listened without interruption.

The weight of their words settled and passed without leaving a mark.

“In that case,” he said at last, his tone calm and almost absent of emotion, “none of you can be allowed to leave alive.”

The laughter stopped.

The shift was imdiate.

Six oppressive auras surged outward, their killing intent sharpening as each Ghost King adjusted their stance. The one seated upon the bone throne leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as the amusent drained from his expression.

“Have you gone senile, boy?” he asked, his voice lowering into sothing colder. “Or do you truly believe you can stand against all of us alone?”

Hei Mao did not answer directly.

Instead, he spoke.

“Immortal Art: Nether Gate Summoning Chant.”

The air changed.

A faint, resonant note echoed outward, like the first pluck of a zither string vibrating through an unseen space. Within Hei Mao’s eyes, a crimson torii gate manifested, its form ancient and absolute, as though it had always existed just beyond perception. The sound deepened, layering upon itself into a haunting lody that pressed against the senses.

Then ca a single word.

“Divine Word: Rest.”

One of the Ghost Kings collapsed instantly.

There was no struggle, no visible resistance. His body simply went slack, his presence dimming as consciousness was forcibly severed. The abruptness of it fractured the tension, replacing it with a mont of pure disbelief.

Hei Mao moved without pause.

He stepped forward and seized the fallen Ascended Soul, his red scarf stirring as if alive. With a single motion, he forced the unconscious entity into it, the fabric swallowing the Ghost King entirely as sealing scripts flickered briefly before fading into stillness.

It ended in less than a breath.

The remaining five stared.

…

..

.

[POV: Hei i]

Hei i leaned forward eagerly as the wind rushed past her, her eyes bright with a freedom she had not felt in a long ti. The Mighty Duck soared through the dim, distorted skies of the Underworld, its formation arrays humming softly beneath their feet as it cut across currents of drifting Yin essence. Below them, fragnted landmasses and broken spiritual veins stretched endlessly, forming a landscape that felt both vast and suffocating.

It had taken her far too long to convince Hei Mao.

She had begged, argued, and even demonstrated her cultivation progress just to prove she could handle herself. Remaining in Luminary’s Rest had its comforts, but it also carried a dull repetition that gnawed at her patience. Cultivation, while important, often felt slow and isolating, especially when there was nothing to break the monotony.

So when she learned that Jiang Zhen and Fan Shi were heading out on a geological survey, she seized the chance without hesitation.

Now, seated atop the deck of the Mighty Duck, she swung her legs lightly as she glanced toward Fan Shi.

“I still don’t really get it,” Hei i said, her tone tinged with curiosity. “They are just rocks, right?”

Fan Shi did not look up imdiately. A faint constellation floated before her, composed of mist-like lights connected by thin strands of spiritual energy. The Star Map shifted subtly as she adjusted it, marking their previous location with careful precision.

“It is more complicated than that,” Fan Shi replied calmly. “Our sect practices burial rites. We search for wandering souls and guide them to rest. That process strengthens our cultivation.”

Her fingers moved through the map, dispersing one cluster of light and forming another.

“But here…” she continued, her voice softening slightly, “we would be fortunate to find even one such soul. The stories describe the Underworld as a place filled with the lost and the restless, those who failed to enter the Wheel of Reincarnation due to karma or circumstance. Yet what we see is different.”

Jiang Zhen’s voice cut in from the front, where he stood at the helm, guiding the Mighty Duck with practiced ease.

“To put it simply, this Underworld is completely broken,” he said bluntly. “We have seen mortal souls that should have been on their way to reincarnation, only to be snatched up by Ghost Kings like prey. Tell how that makes any sense.”

Fan Shi exhaled quietly, the Star Map dissolving into faint mist before vanishing entirely.

“At least we did not return empty-handed,” she said, lifting a massive spirit stone with both hands. The surface shimred with condensed energy, its weight evident even through her composed posture. “We found exotic minerals, so that I cannot even properly na, and this alone would fetch an unimaginable price.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

“We are going to be very wealthy.”

Jiang Zhen let out a short laugh.

“Do you think we can convince Da Wei to waive taxes for once?”

Hei i’s shoulders slumped slightly, her earlier excitent dimming just a bit.

“We would be lucky to keep anything,” she muttered. “Those cultists back in Luminary’s Rest are starting to annoy . They act like everything belongs to them. It feels… suffocating.”

Her gaze drifted outward, scanning the distant horizon.

Then she paused.

“What is that?”

Jiang Zhen stiffened, his hands tightening on the controls as his eyes locked onto a distant shape.

“Pirates!”

The word snapped through the air as tension replaced the earlier lightness. Erging from the haze was a vessel unlike their own, its structure jagged and uneven, ford from what looked like salvaged fragnts of spiritual materials. Dark energy trailed behind it like smoke, and its speed was unmistakably deliberate.

Hei i straightened, forcing confidence into her voice.

“We will be fine,” she said, glancing upward. “We have an Ezekiel on board.”

Perched above them on the crow’s nest, the Ezekiel shifted slightly, his form radiating faint divine light that contrasted sharply with the oppressive atmosphere around them. He had been lounging monts ago, but now his gaze was fixed on the approaching ship.

“Apologies,” he said, his tone asured, “but their entire crew appears to consist of Ascended Souls.”

The words landed heavily.

“I can draw only limited faith from the three of you,” he continued. “While I am capable of engaging a few Ascended Souls, facing this many while ensuring your safety is unlikely to succeed.”

The pirate vessel grew larger with each passing mont, its presence pressing against them like an encroaching storm.

“I recomnd imdiate retreat,” the Ezekiel concluded. “Activate the warp array and fall back before they close the distance.”

…

..

.

[POV: Huang Jianhao]

Huang Jianhao stood amidst the aftermath of what had once been a confident incursion, the battlefield now reduced to an unsettling silence broken only by the faint hum of lingering spiritual disturbances. The wasteland of bones no longer felt like a place of dominance, but rather a graveyard that had claid new occupants far too quickly. Of the six Ascended Souls who had arrived with him, only one remained at his side.

Su Tao.

The old man stood slightly behind him, his posture steady despite the tension that lingered in the air. His weathered face revealed little, though his eyes carried the weight of experience that had guided them through countless life-and-death encounters. He had always been the voice that cut through chaos, the one who saw paths where none seed to exist.

Huang Jianhao exhaled slowly, though the bitterness refused to leave his mouth.

“I ca here expecting a negotiation,” he said, his gaze fixed on the figure before him. “Not this.”

Hei Mao stood at a distance, unmoved and unhurried, as though the disappearance of multiple Ascended Souls ant nothing at all. The faint stir of his red scarf was the only sign that anything had occurred, the sealed existence within it completely hidden from sight.

Huang Jianhao tilted his head slightly.

“Any advice, Old Su?”

Su Tao did not hesitate.

“Retreat,” he said simply, his tone firm and without embellishnt.

The answer settled heavily.

Huang Jianhao clicked his tongue softly, the sound edged with reluctance. Retreat was not unfamiliar to him, but it never sat well, especially not under circumstances like this. Yet the situation was clear. The man before him wielded an Immortal Art, sothing that fundantally shifted the balance. Combined with that unnatural sleeping curse and the sealing thod that followed, it created a chain of inevitability that few could resist.

Anyone lacking sleep resistance would simply fall.

And once they fell, they were gone.

Huang Jianhao’s gaze sharpened slightly as he studied Hei Mao one last ti.

“What is your na, warrior?”

The answer ca without pause.

“My na is Hei Mao.”

Huang Jianhao nodded faintly, as though committing it to mory. Then, without another word, he tore the talisman hidden within his sleeve. Beside him, Su Tao mirrored the action, the two movents perfectly synchronized.

Space twisted.

In an instant, both of them vanished.

They reappeared aboard the Blackblade Pirates’ vessel, the abrupt return sending a ripple of shock through the crew. The deck stirred with movent as subordinates rushed forward, their expressions shifting between relief and confusion.

“Boss, you are back!”

“What happened out there?”

“Did that place submit or did things go wrong?”

“We even found so prey while waiting, but they slipped away before we could secure them.”

Voices overlapped, each carrying urgency, curiosity, and a faint edge of unease.

Huang Jianhao barely registered them.

His eyes moved quickly across the deck.

Then stopped.

Su Tao was not there.

A flicker of realization cut through him, sharp and imdiate.

What happened—

“I did say I cannot let you go.”

The voice ca from above.

Huang Jianhao’s head snapped upward.

Hei Mao stood in the air just beyond the ship, his presence calm, his gaze steady, as though the distance between realms ant nothing at all. The faint distortion of space around him hinted at the thod he had used, though it left no clear trace.

The implication settled instantly.

One of them had not escaped, and even his fate was unknown.

…

..

.

[POV: Da Wei]

The world twisted violently before stabilizing again, leaving a lingering dizziness that clung stubbornly to my senses. The Soaring Dragon vessel had already co to a halt, its massive structure hovering steadily above Luminary’s Rest, yet my footing still felt unreliable as the aftereffects of the warp refused to fade.

“That warp array needs work,” I muttered under my breath, pressing a hand briefly against my temple.

Beside , Alice looked far less impressed than usual.

“Next ti, we are using my planar spell,” she said flatly. “Whatever Nongmin designed here is functional, but it is far from refined.”

Gu Jie, standing not too far from us, gave a faint response between breaths.

“He likely pushed it to its maximum output,” she said, her voice controlled despite her current condition. “That would explain the instability in the spatial structure. If multiple arrays were placed at intervals, it should be possible to form a stable warp path without these side effects.”

She leaned slightly against the barrier at the edge of the vessel as she vomited.

I watched her for a mont as she dealt with the consequences, then turned my attention outward.

Luminary’s Rest spread beneath us.

It had changed.

What had once been a growing settlent now resembled a proper city, its structure more defined, its presence more imposing. Even from this height, I could feel the subtle order woven into it, sothing that did not belong in the Underworld.

My gaze shifted slightly.

Then paused.

“My statue got bigger,” I said, narrowing my eyes slightly as I took in the absurdity of it. “Who approved that?”

No one answered.

I scanned the city again, this ti more carefully.

Sothing was off.

I frowned.

“Where is Hei Mao?”

I reached out with my senses, extending them across the city and beyond its borders.

Nothing.

No trace of him within the domain he was supposed to be guarding.

I exhaled slowly, the faint irritation settling in.

“Did he seriously leave his post,” I muttered, “or is he just avoiding ?”