Immortal Paladin-Chapter 119 Beneath the Storm’s Veil

119 Beneath the Storm’s Veil

The air cracked.

A flash of blue lightning seared through the canopy, and a spear thrust forward like a god’s fury. Opposite it, a flicker of black shadow split the earth, and a sword arced upward in silence.

Boom. Crack.

The two figures clashed again and again in blurs of motion. The forest trembled from the aftershocks. Trees swayed, leaves spiraled down in flurries, and bark split from trunks as if the entire grove were recoiling in fear.

Tao Long’s spear twisted mid-air, breaking through the cascade of slashes coming from the dark figure before him. His robes, white with blue trimmings, rippled in the force of their movements, each motion accompanied by the roar of thunder.

Liang Na moved like a living shadow, her sword a whisper of death in the dim underbrush. Her every strike was measured, elegant, and deliberate. She was quick, quicker than most, but not quick enough.

"You’re not fighting an inferior," Tao Long’s voice came cool and calm as he weaved past her latest strike, his spear reversing with deceptive ease. "You should have known better."

She said nothing, gritting her teeth as she twisted her blade to parry. Their weapons met mid-air with a flash, lightning grinding against darkness.

Then, silence.

The next instant, Liang Na was on the ground, her blade clattering to the side as her knees buckled. Tao Long stood over her, unmoving, his spear lowered but still crackling faintly with residual force.

The forest had fallen still.

The rustle of the last falling leaf seemed louder than it should have been, brushing against the tension in the air.

Tao Long’s stance was statuesque and imperious. His eyes narrowed, silver-blue like an oncoming storm, watched as Liang Na pushed herself upright. Dirt clung to her palms and knees. Blood trickled down the side of her mouth, but she neither whimpered nor cried.

Their sparring had lasted only a few minutes.

A blur of shadow and light.

And now… lies her defeat.

Tao Long didn’t speak immediately. He let the silence stretch long enough for the weight of failure to settle into her chest. She felt it, just as he had intended.

Then, he spoke, low and cold.

"Take this lesson to heart."

His tone carried no anger, only the quiet disdain of one who had expected more. His gaze didn’t waver. "I am sparing your life out of deference to the Lord of Yellow Dragon City. Consider it a gift, as I have no interest in the blood of my fellow warriors, no matter their station."

Liang Na’s head dipped. Her breaths came sharp and shallow as she steadied herself on trembling legs. The loss burned, but so did the clarity it brought.

She lifted her eyes, calm despite the sting of pain and pride. “I offer my thanks, Senior Tao Long,” she said, her voice steady, humble. “I will learn from this.”

He gave a slight nod.

Then he turned, the storm dispersing with him, leaving behind a woman humbled and a forest bearing the scars of their clash.

With a thought, Tao Long crossed hundreds of miles.

“Hmmm… Did she follow me?”

No, she didn’t.

The forest was quiet again.

Leaves fluttered in the still air, and the scent of torn bark lingered after the clash. Tao Long stood amidst the broken clearing, his spear lowered, yet his mind far from calm.

His eyes fell to the weapon in his hand, Dra-kon Mar.

It pulsed faintly with a silver-blue glow, casting soft reflections against the dark soil. The shaft was unlike any material Tao Long had ever encountered: neither jade nor steel, but something far older… far stranger.

And the blade… It was razor-thin, curved like a fang, and hummed in resonance with his spirit, as if acknowledging him.

He turned the weapon slowly in his palm, fingers tracing the etched patterns near the base. The intricate carvings shimmered faintly, like ancient runes waiting to be spoken aloud.

A gift.

No… a loan.

The Outsider had given it to him. Da Wei, a man who was not a man. A cultivator who had not crawled through the heavens as the rest of them had, but had fallen from somewhere else entirely, a being of another world, another logic. Thus, the term Outsider.

"Dra-kon Mar," Tao Long’s lips curled faintly. “You’re not just a weapon, are you?” he muttered to Dra-kon Mar.

The spear vibrated subtly, as if answering.

There was power here. Unstable, unshaped, and dangerous. Tao Long could feel it settling into the marrow of his bones, nudging his instincts. It responded not just to technique, but to will. It was no ordinary tool. It was a mirror of the one who’d wielded it before.

Da Wei.

“Or maybe I am just overthinking it.”

However, Tao Long knew better.

“That man is a paradox,” Tao Long thought. Too reckless to live long. Too stubborn to die quickly.”

He had no illusions about their difference in strength anymore.

When they first met, Tao Long had weighed the man, measured his worth, and prepared for execution. It had been his mission, after all.

The Outsiders had to die.

And yet… Da Wei still lived.

Tao Long exhaled, long and tired. His hand clenched around the spear. “Perhaps,” he said aloud, his voice carrying into the trees, “there is more to this Outsider than I thought.”

But the thought did not bring him peace.

His gaze lowered, shadowed by the weight behind it. He was not a free man. Not truly. He never had been.

The mission had come from Shouquan, his superior within the Ward. The orders were clear: eliminate the Outsiders and secure the Ward’s place as the Empire’s indispensable weapon. That was the ideal they sold to the Emperor: a shield to defend against chaos.

But it was never just about protection.

It was about power.

Tao Long had made his choice. When he couldn’t kill the Outsiders because of the difference in strength and the fact that the prophecy happened anyway, he instead accepted a bribe: a favor, a treasure, and a promise in exchange for letting fate do the work. That was essentially what Drakon Mar was: a bribe.

So, in a series of unprecedented chances and through deductive reasoning, Tao Long had chosen the path that would benefit him the most. That was why he…

Let Da Wei walk into Hell’s Gate.

Let him die fighting the demons.

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Let the problem resolve itself.

That was the idea.

And if he succeeded? If Da Wei survived, the world might change for better or worse. If he died, Tao Long could claim the spear, report success, and keep his conscience untouched.

That had been the unspoken gamble. But the gamble had gone wrong.

“He was supposed to die…”

Tao Long’s jaw tightened.

“What am I supposed to say to Shouquan?”

Tao Long had failed to bring results. Instead, he had returned with rumors of an Outsider who had tamed the flames of Hell and bore a weapon not even the heavens understood.

What was worse, Tao Long had no more answers than before.

His superiors wanted strength. He had returned with questions. He looked again at Dra-kon Mar, letting its weight settle in his hand. The hum was there again. It was gentle, curious, and beckoning. A reminder that he had touched something beyond his reach.

“I can’t contact Shouquan like this…”

He sighed deeply, the breath tasting of regret.

It had never been about gold, or weapons, or favor. Tao Long had wanted certainty, a clean outcome, and a justified end. But the moment he hesitated, the moment he chose pragmatism over principle, the path before him twisted.

“I shouldn’t have accepted this spear and made everything so much more complicated.”

Tao Long moved through the forest without sound.

His robes were pristine, unmarred by the earlier battle, his gait smooth and steady, but his eyes were distant. The path twisted beneath the shadow of tall, old trees, their branches forming a canopy too dense for starlight. It was the kind of place only those with purpose or fearlessness would tread.

Eventually, he reached it: a hidden alcove, nestled behind a curtain of ivy and a jutting cliff face. It wasn’t visible to the naked eye, not unless one knew to look between the angles of natural misdirection. He stepped into it and raised his hand.

“Seal,” he commanded softly.

A pulse of energy rippled out from his palm, forming a formation circle along the borders of the alcove. One by one, sigils carved into the earth glowed faintly before vanishing from sight: concealment formations, distortion barriers, and a soft field of temporal delay. He wasn’t going to be disturbed. Not even the heavens could scry this place now.

But he wasn’t done.

With a quiet breath, he lifted his right hand to the sky.

“Rain.”

The word was not spoken with spiritual command, but with divine authority, cultivated through centuries of precise mastery.

Clouds gathered above the forest, thick and heavy. Within moments, the drizzle began, then thickened to a gentle, soaking rain. The sound of droplets on leaves cloaked the world, and the scent of fresh water over soil masked the spirit traces in the area.

Only then did Tao Long finally sit.

He leaned against a moss-covered stone, knees crossed, posture relaxed but ready. The rhythmic rainfall drummed around him like a lullaby, but his mind was anything but peaceful.

The Ward.

His lips twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. He wasn’t blind to their flaws, no, not anymore. There had been a time, long ago, when he thought the Ward was pure. A noble force for balance and justice. A necessary weapon against the Greater Universe: the looming unknown, filled with gods and monsters, Outsiders and Eternal threats.

They had to be ready. That was what Shouquan always said.

“Tao Long… if we don’t ready the sword, the blade will find our throat first.”

It had made sense, once.

He exhaled and reached into his sleeve, pulling free a wooden disk no larger than a teacup. Worn smooth by age, it bore no inscriptions. But when he flicked his finger across the surface, it shimmered with a pale golden light. Tao Long set it afloat before him, and it hovered in the misty alcove, spinning slowly.

From the rain and the fog, a mirage of a man emerged.

Stooped, thin, yet bearing a terrible gravity, Shouquan stood with his hands behind his back. His beard reached his belt. His brows were sharp as blades. His gaze, even through illusion, carried pressure.

He did not waste time.

“How’s your mission?” he asked.

Tao Long looked at him without standing. “Terrible.”

Shouquan blinked once. That was more than most got from him.

Tao Long didn’t bother dressing the truth. “I arrived too late. The Hell’s Gate had already opened. The target…” he paused, “the Outsider and his goldfish, had already instigated the opening of the Gate by the time I reached them. However, I am loath to say I don’t understand the full picture yet… So far, I am limited by the facts available to me.”

Shouquan’s brow twitched. “Is that really it?”

“I never got the chance to stop them,” Tao Long said, voice dry. “I was prepared to challenge them… but the Gate opened prematurely. I thought it would kill them.”

“It didn’t.”

“No,” Tao Long admitted. “Seeing where it was going, I saw it as pointless to engage him in combat. I planned to retreat and convene with the Emperor. But then, the Outsider by the name of Da Wei offered me a deal.”

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the hiss of rainfall.

Shouquan narrowed his eyes. “What deal?”

Tao Long showed the spear loaned to him. “This, in exchange for escorting the goldfish turned human, Ren Jingyi, to a man called Jiang Zhen.”

Shouquan’s eyes fluttered closed. He hummed, not unlike a grandfather considering a recipe. But Tao Long knew better than to be fooled by the sound. When Shouquan hummed, nations fell.

“A shame,” the old man said quietly. “Da Wei… I’ve heard his name being whispered in the Greater Universe more than once recently. Strange, he elicits so much interest….”

“This spear was called Dra-kon Mar,” Tao Long added, lifting Dra-kon Mar and letting the tip rest against the stone. “It doesn’t feel native to this world. It’s rare we get Outsider artifacts, so I made the executive decision to promptly accept this deal.”

“I see, so do you plan to refine the weapon?”

“It was given,” Tao Long corrected. “On loan.”

So he couldn’t exactly refine it, lest he risk earning Da Wei’s ire. There was no need to step on eggshells around him, but Tao Long just thought of a scheme that would benefit him and his organization.

Shouquan grunted.

“Would you have killed him?” he asked, voice calm, too calm.

“What do you mean?” Tao Long met the old man’s gaze, thought about his sudden question, and answered. “I thought I could. Once.”

“And now?”

A pause. Then a breath. “No.”

Rain rolled off the edges of Tao Long’s robes as he leaned back slightly. “If the rumors I am getting are to be believed, he managed to block a Hell’s Gate all by himself.”

There was no shame in the admission. Not anymore.

Shouquan said nothing for a long time. Then finally:

“Strength is rarely the problem. It’s the mind. The will. This… Da Wei. Is he loyal to the Empire?”

“No,” Tao Long answered. “He’s loyal to the people he loves. The rest of the world can burn for all he cares. But… he’s not cruel.”

“Mm.”

That hum again.

“I need more operatives,” said Tao Long. “Preferably someone with powerful defense and someone with speed.”

Shouquan’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “Why?”

“Because I’m not enough,” Tao Long said. “Da Wei. I don’t believe I can contend with him alone, regardless of what advantages our resources can offer me. Not anymore.”

“I’d like to maintain a good relationship with him,” Tao Long continued. “Feign friendliness. Maybe gain more information. More leverage. However, if it comes to it, I need to be able to deal with him if I find myself suddenly on the back foot.”

A pause.

“This can help Ward in more ways than one… For example, with this venture, we can access more Outsider-class treasures.”

That earned the faintest twitch in Shouquan’s lips. Disapproval? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“He’s generous,” Tao Long added, as if that justified everything. “Unusually so. For someone from the Greater Universe, he parts with sacred tools like one might gift fruit. There’s power in that sort of confidence. Or foolishness. That’s why you are suggesting this change in approach.”

“And your plan is to smile at him until he drops another divine spear in your lap?” Shouquan asked dryly.

“If it works,” Tao Long said.

The mirage of the old man gave no reaction.

“As for a strategy when it came to confrontation,” Tao Long went on, “I suggest we consider sealing him. Or, if possible, ejecting him back to the Greater Universe. Keep the damage to this realm minimal.”

Shouquan shook his head.

“Our exorcism methods won’t work on him,” he said flatly.

Tao Long narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“He doesn’t fit,” Shouquan said, “into the categories we’ve prepared for. Not in essence. Not in signature. He’s like a coin from a forgotten empire: foreign to our wards, immune to our scripts. You should not think of him as a clay bodhisattva. Or let your greed for his treasure cloud your judgment.”

Tao Long’s brow creased slightly, but he remained silent.

Shouquan’s tone shifted. It became colder, more formal.

“There is a change in policy.”

Tao Long stiffened. His fingers curled just slightly around the haft of Dra-kon Mar.

“Regarding Da Wei?” he asked.

“Yes,” Shouquan replied. “Effective immediately, the Ward’s protocols for dealing with Outsiders are being amended. Special exemptions will now be considered.”

“Exemptions?” Tao Long repeated, incredulous.

Shouquan met his gaze without blinking. “Da Wei is no longer to be hunted. You will not interfere with his movements unless provoked. And you will not attempt to seal or eject him from this realm.”

A frown deepened on Tao Long’s face. Something was wrong.

“Our stance,” he said carefully, “has always been clear. Outsiders must be met with violence, cunning, and without prejudice. No exceptions. No mercy.”

“There are now exceptions,” Shouquan said calmly.

“Why?”

The old man tilted his head slightly. “Because new intelligence has reached us. Devil-class Outsiders have been detected in the Riverfall Continent. Multiple signatures. Their presence is active. Confirmed. Violent.”

Tao Long’s expression darkened.

“So we let the Outsider roam free… because we have worse problems to deal with?”

“Correct,” Shouquan said. “Your primary mission now is to aid the locals. Protect the region. Reduce public panic. If any of these devils establish a foothold, we may lose more than just territory to the Outsiders.”

Tao Long was silent for a long moment.

“And Da Wei?”

“Your second objective,” Shouquan said, voice unflinching, “is to befriend him.”

The word tasted foreign in Tao Long’s ears.

“…Befriend?”

“Yes,” Shouquan replied. “Not spy on. Not manipulate. Befriend. Earn his trust. It has to be genuine. Cultivate the relationship. The empire has... interest in him now. If he truly is the one who blocked a Hell’s Gate, then there may be greater value in alliance than conflict.”

Tao Long’s thoughts spun in quiet disbelief.

This wasn’t policy.

This wasn’t them.

And yet… here was the order.

He nodded slowly, not in acceptance, but acknowledgment. “Understood.”

“Good,” Shouquan said.

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Then, as if he could sense the unease radiating from his follower, the old man added, “I do not expect you to like this. But I do expect you to obey.”

With that, the image shimmered and vanished. The wooden disk drifted down and gently landed in Tao Long’s hand, its glow extinguishing like a lantern snuffed in fog.

The rain was still falling.

Tao Long didn’t move for some time.

His thoughts were a quiet storm. The policy shift unsettled him, not because it suggested change, but because it suggested hesitation. And hesitation, in the Ward, was as dangerous as mercy.

He looked down at the spear across his lap. Dra-kon Mar. An artifact from another world. A token from a man who broke the sky.

“What are you really, Da Wei?”

And what did it mean… that the empire had an interest in him?