Immortal Paladin-Chapter 006 The Gathering Storm

006 The Gathering Storm

Gu Jie dropped to one knee so suddenly that, for a moment, I thought she had collapsed. But no—her posture was deliberate, her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes burned with unwavering resolve.

“Please allow me to follow you!” she declared, voice steady despite its tremor. “I may be unworthy, but I swear upon my life—I will serve you with all that I am.”

I frowned.

Not this again.

NPCs were easy to dismiss. People? Real people? Not so much.

“You owe me nothing,” I said flatly. “Your life is your own. Do with it as you will, but I have no need for followers.”

I turned to leave.

But something latched onto my leg.

I halted mid-step, slowly lowering my gaze.

Gu Jie was clinging to me.

I arched a brow. She flinched under my stare but refused to let go.

Was this some xianxia nonsense? Fate weaving a companion into my path? If so, the heavens could shove it.

…That being said, having someone familiar with this world wouldn’t be the worst idea. My understanding of cultivation was spotty at best, and relying on Earth’s logic in a world like this would likely get me killed.

Hmmm.

Reforming a bandit seemed like a decent cause. No harm in testing the waters.

I exhaled. “Fine. If you wish to follow me, I won’t stop you.”

Her grip tightened. “I swear it, Senior!”

I crossed my arms. “Then you’ll have to pass a test.”

She blinked. “A… test?”

I retrieved a handful of gold coins from my sleeve. Unlike in Lost Legends Online, where currency existed in a digital balance, here it had merged into my Item Box as physical gold.

Gu Jie’s eyes widened as she stared at the coins.

I tossed them to her. She caught them with trembling hands, her expression shifting from awe to confusion.

“Your test is simple,” I said. “Exchange this gold for local currency and meet me back here by dusk.”

She turned the coin over in her fingers, examining every detail. Then, in a classic move, she bit down on it.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Senior, this is too valuable,” she said, her voice laced with disbelief. “Judging by the carving, it may have historical worth as well.”

She hesitated before handing most of the coins back, keeping only three. As if holding any more would bring calamity upon her.

I raised a brow. “And if I asked you to exchange all of it?”

She immediately tensed, staring at the coins in deep thought.

“…This is a trick question,” she muttered. Then, as if testing something, she channeled a wisp of spiritual energy into her jaw and bit down again.

The gold didn’t bend. Didn’t crack.

Her eyes widened. “I see! This isn’t ordinary gold.” She clenched her fists, realization dawning. “If I try to sell too much of it at once, I might bring disaster upon myself. But for someone like you, Senior, such matters are mere trifles.”

So she had some sense. Good.

Lost Legends Online’s gold coins weren’t simple currency—they were forged from a special alloy, an unyielding blend of mithril, steel, and black gold. A stable in-game economy had demanded indestructible coinage. At least, lore-wise…

Gu Jie took a steady breath, determination returning to her gaze.

“I will complete this task and prove myself, Senior!”

Without another word, she spun on her heel and disappeared into the bustling streets.

I blinked.

Well. That was fast.

I hadn’t even acknowledged Gu Jie as my follower yet, and she was already proving her worth.

Exhaling, I rolled my shoulders, stretching as I took in my surroundings. Now that the matter with Gu Jie was settled—at least for now—I had time to kill.

The streets were alive with festival energy. Colorful lanterns swayed above wooden stalls, casting a warm glow over the marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling skewers, steamed buns, and spiced wine. Performers weaved through the crowd, silk sleeves billowing as they twirled to the beat of drums and flutes.

It was… a lot.

In Lost Legends Online, I had avoided crowded hubs when possible. Too many people meant too much noise, too many eyes watching, and too many chances of getting dragged into some quest I wanted no part of.

But here?

There was no minimap, no auction house menu, no convenient fast travel system. If I wanted to survive in this world, I had to live in it. I had to learn its rules, not just treat it like another game.

It would be difficult to curb bad habits though…

The more time I spent here, the more I adjusted to its quirks—some more baffling than others.

One of the strangest was the language.

I shouldn’t have been able to understand or speak it, yet the words came effortlessly. The grammar aligned with my thoughts. The scripts on banners and scrolls made perfect sense. At first, I assumed it was some kind of transmigration perk, but after paying closer attention, I noticed something odd. While I understood the language itself, I had to actively think about certain idioms and phrases. It was as if my brain had absorbed the structure, but not the cultural nuances.

I suspected my Sub-class: Linguist had something to do with it.

In Lost Legends Online, Sub-classes weren’t about direct combat or flashy abilities. They provided long-term benefits—practical skills that supplemented a player’s main class. Blacksmiths forged weapons. Tailors crafted enchanted robes. Chefs prepared meals that granted buffs.

Linguist fell under the historian-type professions, though that didn’t mean I was a scholar or some well-read sage. I didn’t like studying lore for real. People tended to assume that because my character could decipher lost texts, I must also know the histories behind them. That wasn’t how it worked.

Linguists had an innate grasp of languages—spoken, written, even forgotten ones from ancient civilizations. I could translate texts, but understanding their deeper meaning still required study. At best, I was a high-speed translation device with a slight buff to speech.

I hadn’t thought much about it before, but considering how quickly I was adapting to this world’s language, it made sense.

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Was this purely the result of Linguist? Or did my Intelligence stat play a role? It wasn’t my highest attribute, but it still far surpassed that of an ordinary human. A superhuman memory likely accelerated my learning, allowing me to pick up the finer details faster than most.

Still, speaking a language I had never studied in my life was... unsettling.

I shook my head. No point dwelling on it. Whether this was a gift from transmigration or a hidden perk of my Sub-class, I wasn’t about to complain.

I kept walking.

The festival’s noise and warmth gradually gave way to something else—an undercurrent of tension. The laughter and music still filled the air, but something had shifted. The energy in the streets buzzed with anticipation. Whispers spread like wildfire.

I followed the murmurs, letting my feet carry me down familiar paths.

It wasn’t long before I reached the abandoned park where I had tested my stats the night before.

Only—it wasn’t abandoned anymore.

The open field had become a gathering place, a landing zone for the powerful.

The city was abuzz with excitement as cultivators arrived in droves.

They descended from the skies on flying swords, golden chariots, drifting leaves, and mist-wreathed clouds. Some rode upon giant cranes or spirit beasts, their robes adorned with the insignias of great sects.

The air crackled with spiritual pressure.

Crowds gathered along the perimeter, careful to keep their distance. The people of Yellow Dragon City understood what an event like this meant. When powerful cultivators descended, it was best to stay out of their way.

Yellow Dragon soldiers formed a defensive line, their polished armor gleaming under the morning sun. They stood tall, spears in hand, ensuring that no reckless onlookers disrupted the arrivals.

At the center of it all stood Enforcer Liang Na.

Clad in her official uniform, she greeted the incoming sect members with a calm, measured respect. A stark contrast to the condescension she had shown me last night. But of course, these weren’t ordinary travelers.

These were the big three sects of the region.

I remained among the spectators, doing my best to blend in. Around me, commoners, free warriors, and independent cultivators whispered in hushed tones, their voices brimming with speculation.

“That’s the Cloud Mist Sect’s crest! I never thought I’d see them in person!”

“Look at their robes! So pristine, so elegant… They must be carrying artifacts worth a fortune.”

Huh? I thought they had already arrived. Didn’t the rumors say they were here yesterday?

The Cloud Mist Sect was renowned for their mastery of illusions and mist techniques. Their members moved like drifting fog, their footsteps silent as they disembarked from a silver cloud. Their leader, an elderly man with a long white beard, exchanged a few words with Liang Na before being escorted into the city.

Nearby, two free warriors watched with arms crossed, their gazes sharp.

“Hmph. I’d recognize that sword anywhere. That’s from the Sword Canopy Sect.”

“So they sent their elites this time. Those aren’t outer disciples—they must be inner sect members at the very least.”

The Sword Canopy Sect. A name synonymous with relentless swordplay and terrifying formations. Their disciples arrived atop floating blades, their postures straight, their expressions unreadable. Unlike the Cloud Mist Sect, they wasted no time on pleasantries. Their presence alone was a statement.

Then came the final group.

The moment they descended, even the boldest onlookers stepped back.

“Isolation Path Sect…” someone muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Damn. I never thought they’d show up here.”

“Don’t make eye contact. They’re ruthless.”

The Isolation Path Sect. Unlike the Cloud Mist Sect’s refinement or the Sword Canopy Sect’s discipline, these cultivators carried an oppressive, almost unnatural presence. Their robes, deep midnight black, were embroidered with sigils that seemed to shift when one looked at them too long. They arrived on dark clouds, and the temperature around them seemed to drop.

Where the Cloud Mist Sect moved like scholars and the Sword Canopy Sect like warriors, these cultivators moved like phantoms. Silent. Cold. Unfathomable.

One of their disciples turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd.

For the briefest second, I felt something probe my presence—a spiritual sense.

I immediately suppressed my energy. Or rather, I let my lack of qi make me seem utterly insignificant. Simply put, I used my Dexterity stat to force myself looking like a slouch.

The disciple’s eyes lingered, then moved on.

That was close.

But the arrivals weren’t over yet.

A new stir rippled through the crowd.

Not cultivators on flying artifacts this time, but grand carriages drawn by rare spirit beasts. Their arrival was just as commanding—perhaps even more so.

These were not sect disciples.

They were the heirs of the Seven Grand Clans.

Unlike sect cultivators, who dedicated themselves solely to the path of cultivation, clan heirs were something else entirely. They were not just warriors, but rulers, strategists, and future powerhouses in their own right. Where sect disciples honed their blades, these people honed their influence.

The first to arrive was a tall young man with sharp features, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with a road stretching into the horizon.

A murmur spread through the spectators.

“That’s Young Master Lu Gao of the Lu Clan!”

The Lu Clan. A name tied to an unwavering philosophy:

"The road is endless, and so is our ambition."

Merchants, warriors, diplomats—they were known for expanding their reach across the continent, their influence growing wherever their roads were built. To some, they were the lifeblood of trade and prosperity. To others, they were conquerors, always moving forward, never looking back.

Lu Gao himself carried that presence. He moved like a man who had never once hesitated in his life. His steps were firm, his gaze cold and assessing.

A few commoners instinctively lowered their heads, afraid to draw his attention.

He did not travel alone.

Behind him, a procession of Lu Clan cultivators followed, each one clad in blue and gold, each one carrying themselves with quiet authority. They did not walk like an extended family. They walked like an army.

“They say the Lu Clan never settles,” someone whispered. “Wherever they go, they build roads. And through those roads, they claim the land itself.”

“A clan that expands without stopping… terrifying.”

I frowned slightly.

Lu Gao wasn’t just strong—he was dangerous.

Not because of his cultivation level, but because of how he carried himself. The confidence. The sheer lack of hesitation. The way he looked at everything as if it already belonged to him.

I had met people like him before.

People who never lost.

And the thing about those kinds of people?

They never considered the possibility of losing.

Which, in a xianxia setting, meant that if you beat them too badly, they’d just call their fathers, grandfathers, and eventually their ancestors to get revenge.

Annoying.

For some reason, I didn’t like Lu Gao already.

It wasn’t rational. He hadn’t done anything to me. Hell, he probably didn’t even know I existed. Yet, the mere sight of him—his arrogance, his unshaken confidence—rubbed me the wrong way.

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What was this unreasonable disdain inside me?

Weird…

I frowned, watching him for a moment longer before my thoughts drifted.

Lu Clan… Road?

Wait. Lu as in 路—the character for "road."

I almost scoffed aloud. So they took their whole “unstoppable march forward” theme that seriously, huh? It was almost funny. If I had a sect or clan, I wouldn’t name it something so on-the-nose. It was like calling a fire sect the "Burning Flame Sect" or a sword sect the "Sharp Blade Clan."

…Actually, now that I thought about it, xianxia sects did do that a lot.

I shook my head and turned my attention to the next wave of arrivals.

Lu Gao might have been the first, but he wasn’t the only young heir to make an appearance. One after another, more carriages and processions entered the city, each carrying the banners of the great clans.

The biggest clans around, apparently.

First came the Kang Clan, also known as the Fighting Clan. Their members carried themselves with the air of seasoned warriors, their crimson robes emblazoned with the image of a roaring tiger. They weren’t as refined as the sect cultivators, but there was an undeniable strength in their every step.

“They say a single Kang warrior can fight three cultivators of the same realm,” someone whispered nearby.

“Hah, of course! They train like madmen from childhood. Battle is their cultivation.”

If the Lu Clan were conquerors, the Kang Clan were warlords.

Next came the Xun Clan, the Seeker Clan. Their members wore deep green, their robes stitched with spiraling cloud-like motifs. Unlike the Kangs, they were leaner, their eyes sharp, scanning their surroundings with an unsettling focus.

“The Xun Clan specializes in tracking and intelligence gathering,” a merchant murmured to his companion. “They say there’s no hiding from them.”

“No wonder people hire them for assassination work.”

I made a mental note not to cross them.

Then came the Feng Clan, the Wind Clan. They arrived atop gliding hawks, their robes fluttering in the breeze. Their emblem—a flowing gust of wind—matched their movement. They barely seemed to touch the ground as they dismounted.

“The Feng Clan controls the largest fleet of flying ships,” another onlooker said in awe. “They’re the reason merchants can cross vast distances so quickly.”

A logistics empire, then. I could respect that.

After them, the Bai Clan, the White Clan, and the Hei Clan, the Black Clan, arrived almost simultaneously. Two sides of the same coin.

The Bai Clan, dressed in pristine white, gave off an aura of clarity and righteousness. Healers, exorcists, and scholars—at least on the surface.

Meanwhile, the Hei Clan’s deep obsidian robes seemed to drink the surrounding light. Assassins? Spies? Something else? Either way, they carried themselves like people who knew more than they let on.

And finally—

“The Tian Clan, the Sky Clan, is here!” someone gasped.

This time, even the other clan members turned their heads.

Golden carriages descended from the heavens, carried by celestial beasts wreathed in divine light. The Tian Clan was different from the rest. They weren’t just powerful—they were royalty. The closest thing this world had to a ruling family.

Maybe? I couldn’t tell… The people at least thought so…

Their young heirs stepped forward, dressed in flowing robes of blue and gold.

I let out a slow breath.

In just a short time, I had already learned a lot about this world. The sects, the clans, their power structures. But gathering information through eavesdropping and casual conversation was one thing.

Seeing it all in person?

That was something else entirely.

This world wasn’t just some game map with scattered NPCs. It was alive. Moving. A place with its own rules, politics, and unspoken hierarchies.

And I was right in the middle of it.

I kept my head down and observed.

Because if I wanted to survive here, I needed to know exactly what kind of world I was dealing with.

And more importantly—

Who not to piss off.