Chapter 165 - 41-45

041 Demonic Invaders

Brukhelm's body was no more, reduced to drifting embers and scattering dust. But I was not deceived.

A crimson ember streaked through the air, writhing with hatred—his demonic soul.

The instant his mortal shell crumbled, his soul fled, slipping through the smallest cracks in the Great Barrier like mist through a sieve. A flickering wisp of malice, retreating to whatever foul abyss had birthed him.

But even the most elusive specter could not escape my Divine Sense.

I had seen this countless times before. In Lost Legends Online, named demons never perished so easily. Players had long since uncovered the pattern—no matter how many times you slew them, they would return, stronger and more vengeful, until the developers finally gave an explanation:

Demonic souls did not perish with the flesh. They clung to existence, retreating to their infernal domain to fester and grow. To ordinary people, it was merely an unfortunate reality. To those with scouting skills, it was background lore.

To me, it was an unacceptable outcome.

I raised a finger, my voice cold. "Compel Duel."

Power surged. The demonic soul faltered, shackled by the skill's binding force. It twisted, struggling in vain—its body was lost, but the duel could not be denied.

It surged forward in desperation.

I followed.

"Zealot's Stride."

The shattered ground crumbled beneath my step as I launched into the air.

"Flash Step."

The world blurred. I reappeared midair, still locked onto my prey.

"Flash Step."

Again.

The soul darted wildly, zigzagging in erratic desperation. It was weightless now, unbound by flesh, nothing but will and instinct. A lesser pursuer would have lost sight of it within moments.

But I was not merely chasing it.

I was hunting it.

"Flash Step. Flash Step. Flash Step."

Each burst of speed closed the distance.

The soul writhed in panic, realization dawning. It had believed itself beyond reach, destined to return stronger, to haunt the world once more.

But this was no cycle of vengeance.

This was no expansion.

This was me.

And I would see to it that this demon had no sequel.

Even without the gift of flight, I reached him.

No weapons. No grand display. Just divine judgment.

"Divine Smite."

A golden radiance gathered at the edge of my hand as I swung down in a simple knife-hand strike. No embellishment, no flourish—just the certainty of execution.

The moment it connected, Brukhelm's soul let out a silent scream. Soundless, yet I felt it in the very fabric of reality, in the way the heavens seemed to reject his existence.

A final pulse of light.

Then—nothing.

No rebirth. No second coming.

Only judgment.

The battlefield lay in ruin. The scent of scorched flesh and charred stone lingered in the air. The Great Barrier had long since faded, leaving only silence in its wake. What had once been a proud arena was now a graveyard of shattered stone and blackened earth.

And at its center, where Brukhelm had perished, lay the last remnant of Lu Gao.

A single skull—blackened, but whole.

I stepped forward, stopping before what was left of the once-proud young master of the Lu Clan.

Behind me, the survivors gathered.

Ren Jin stood with his arms crossed, his usual arrogance subdued. Chief Enforcer Liang Na lingered a step behind him, her sharp gaze dissecting me like a riddle she could not solve. The three elders—Pan Xia, Long Xieren, and Lei Fen—stood weary but composed, their expressions veiled. Whether they had remained to bear witness or offer support, I could not tell.

No one spoke.

They were waiting.

Waiting for an explanation.

Or for an excuse.

I exhaled and crouched, reaching out to touch the scorched remains.

In Lost Legends Online, possession by a Named Demon was no trivial affliction. If the host was slain while still possessed, their soul was lost—consumed in the demon's final moments. Even the most potent resurrection arts could not call them back, not unless the demon's taint was first purged.

Only one method could ensure their return.

A method requiring either vast resources or the presence of a champion with divine authority—a paladin, a priest, or a druid of the highest order.

I straightened, lifting my hand. My fingers traced the sigil of invocation, the sacred script glowing with celestial might.

The ultimate resurrection art. A technique that defied even the finality of True Death.

"Divine Word: Raise."

A pulse of radiant light expanded from my palm, flooding the ruins with sacred brilliance. The glow sank into the skull, suffusing it with warmth.

Then, the impossible took shape.

Bone reformed. Flesh wove itself anew. Veins and sinew knit together, pulsing with life.

The bare skull became a human face once more, pale skin regaining its color.

Lu Gao… returned.

The air thrummed with divine energy, the sheer force of the spell bending the fabric of reality itself. This was resurrection at its zenith—a technique that defied the natural order, seized the soul from the abyss, and left no room for failure.

The silence stretched, heavy and absolute.

Then, Lu Gao gasped.

His body jerked upright, eyes wild with unfiltered terror. Sweat poured down his face, his chest heaving with frantic, uneven breaths. His entire form trembled as if he had just clawed his way out of the underworld itself.

Then came the scream.

Low, raw, and guttural—it tore from his throat like something primal, something dredged up from the depths of his very being.

The elders took a step back. Even Ren Jin's usual bravado faltered.

Lu Gao clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as he convulsed. His breath hitched, ragged and uneven, like lungs struggling to remember how to breathe.

Then, his gaze found mine.

His pupils shrank. Recognition and confusion warred in his eyes, a silent battle between disbelief and memory. His lips parted, but no words came. His entire body spasmed once before he hunched forward, clawing at the earth beneath him as if grounding himself in something real.

I said nothing.

The memories were returning. Possession was no mere affliction—it was an invasion of the soul, a violation of the self. He had been nothing more than a vessel, his will shackled while Brukhelm wore his flesh like a puppet. That wasn't something one simply woke from.

His voice came at last, hoarse and broken.

"…I was dead."

I nodded. "Yes."

"I…" His voice cracked. He gritted his teeth, hands curling into trembling fists. His breath grew shallow, his body rejecting the truth even as his mind recalled it. "I was gone. I could feel myself fading. I was…" His throat bobbed, as if swallowing back bile. "…devoured."

I let him have the moment.

Behind me, the gathered cultivators stood frozen in disbelief. Resurrection was a rarity in itself—but this? This was something beyond their understanding.

One moment, Lu Gao was awake.

The next, he slumped forward, his breathing slow, steady.

Sleep had claimed him. His body needed rest. His soul needed time.

And none here could blame him.

For five long breaths, silence reigned.

Then, the interrogation began.

"You." Lei Fen's voice was like a sharpened blade as he pointed at me. "Explain exactly what just happened."

Pan Xia followed without missing a beat. "What vile technique did you just use? If the Lu Clan practices such arts, they must take responsibility!"

I blinked.

Liang Na folded her arms, her gaze piercing. "That demon recognized you." Her voice was calm, measured—but the slight twitch of her fingers betrayed the tension beneath. "It called you Paladin—and it did not do so lightly. Why?"

I remained silent.

Truth be told, I wasn't entirely sure myself.

A demon—one of the Fallen Angel type, no less—had recognized me on sight and called me Paladin. I could make a few guesses. Maybe it was because I wielded holy arts? Maybe my battles in Lost Legends Online had marked me in some unseen way?

But none of those explanations made sense in this world.

Ren Jin, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "What is a Paladin?"

I hesitated.

How was I supposed to answer that?

Seeing an LLO demon here was troubling enough.

Long Xieren narrowed his eyes. "You hesitate."

Liang Na pressed further. "Why? Do you know the answer or not?"

I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. "I don't notknow… but I don't have a great answer either."

That earned me a round of unimpressed looks.

Pan Xia exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "Then tell us this—what technique did Bu Lu Keng use?"

I assumed that was what we were calling the demon now. Bu Lu Keng? Didn't exactly roll off the tongue.

I shook my head. "Not sure. Something tied to his demonic nature."

Lei Fen's expression darkened. "You just slew him. Surely you must know what he was using."

"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "He's dead now. Not like he can tell us."

That… did not improve the mood.

Ren Jin studied me carefully. "You are hiding something."

I didn't deny it.

Because honestly? I had more questions than answers.

But that didn't mean I had to answer to them.

I had let them push and prod, had tolerated their suspicions and accusations, because I figured it was natural after everything they'd just witnessed. But the way they spoke—the way they demanded—made it clear. They weren't seeking understanding. They were looking for an excuse to put me in my place.

Me.

Did they think I was some wayward junior they could intimidate? Some errant disciple they could reprimand? Didn't they see just what I did?

Spite curdled in my chest. I had tried to be patient. I had wanted to talk this out, to keep things civil. But if they wanted to test my limits—if they wanted to see just how vast the difference was between us—then fine. I would educate them.

I let out a slow breath, letting my gaze sweep over them, my silence pressing down like a storm cloud. When I finally spoke, my voice carried the weight of an unshakable truth.

"You lot have some nerve," I said, my tone filled with mock admiration. "You see something beyond your comprehension, and the first thing you do is assume demonic technique. You witness a miracle, and rather than reflect on your own ignorance, you point fingers and demand explanations, as if I owe you anything."

Lei Fen stiffened. Pan Xia's brow furrowed. The others bristled at my tone, but I wasn't finished.

"Pan Xia," I turned my gaze on him first, my words dripping with derision. "You speak of responsibility? Tell me, what responsibility did you take when Brukhelm possessed Lu Gao? When he rampaged under your very noses? Because from where I'm standing, it was me who stopped him. Me who ensured he would never return."

Pan Xia opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a sharp scoff.

"And Lei Fen," I shifted my attention, watching his expression darken. "You seem convinced I must have understood the demon's techniques simply because I defeated him. By that logic, should I assume that because you failed to stop him, you must be in league with him?"

Lei Fen's hands clenched at his sides, but he didn't interrupt.

I smiled coldly. "Liang Na. You're a sharp one, aren't you? You noticed the demon called me Paladin and jumped straight to suspicion. How amusing. Tell me—when a monstrous being recoils at the mere mention of my existence, do you think that means I am its ally? Or that I am its natural enemy?"

The silence that followed was thick.

I exhaled, shaking my head. "I've indulged your questions. But do not mistake my patience for weakness." My voice turned colder, more cutting. "Let me remind you all of a simple truth—I am stronger than every single one of you. If I wished to keep secrets, not one of you could force them from me. If I wished to leave, not one of you could stop me."

I took a slow step forward, letting them feel the weight of my presence. "And if I were truly your enemy, you would not still be standing here."

The tension in the air was suffocating. Even Ren Jin, who had been so keen to pick at my words, seemed unwilling to meet my gaze.

Good.

I hadn't wanted to do this. I would have preferred an honest conversation. But if this was the only language they understood—if respect had to be taken rather than given—then so be it.

I declared, my voice carrying one final warning.

"Next time, think carefully before you question someone who saved your lives."

I let out a slow breath, weighing my options.

In the end, I stuck to the simplest answer—I was a wandering cultivator.

Technically true, if one considered my constant state of being lost as "wandering."

I leaned into that explanation, sidestepping the finer details. But I did share one crucial truth: just how far I was from home.

"I am not from this land," I admitted.

Pan Xia gave me a flat look, but there was something different in his eyes now—caution. "That much is obvious. We have eyes, Senior." His words were polite, but his posture had shifted, no longer carrying the arrogance of before. He dipped his head slightly. "Forgive our earlier disrespect."

I could feel it in the air. The shift.

Before, they had treated me as an oddity—perhaps even a curiosity. But now? Now they were beginning to understand that I was something else entirely. Something that should not be taken lightly.

When I finally spoke, my voice carried a slow, deliberate weight.

"Forgiveness?" I echoed, letting the word settle between us. "You are quick to ask for it. Yet I wonder… if I had been weaker, would you have spared me such courtesy?"

Pan Xia flinched, barely perceptible. He did not answer.

Lei Fen, after a pause, bowed his head slightly. "We were… hasty in our judgment, Senior."

"Hasty." I tasted the word. "Is that what you call it?" I let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle. "You all seemed rather eager to question me earlier. To press me for answers as though I owed them to you." I turned my gaze to Liang Na. "What was it you said? That I should explain myself?"

Liang Na stiffened. "It was not my intention to offend—"

"Oh?" I interrupted smoothly. "Then what was your intention?"

She fell silent.

I looked at each of them in turn, letting my gaze linger just long enough to make them uncomfortable. "Do you all make it a habit to interrogate those far beyond your cultivation?"

Another silence. Heavier this time.

Ren Jin exhaled slowly. "It seems we have overstepped, Senior."

I tilted my head, considering him. Then, finally, I relented—just slightly.

"I do not seek to make enemies of you," I said, my voice calmer now. "But let this be a lesson. The next time you meet someone whose strength you do not comprehend… tread more carefully."

No one dared argue.

Liang Na, however, was neither easily placated nor intimidated. "Then, with due respect, may I ask where Senior hails from?"

I thought of Brukhelm's words—how he had framed me as a foreigner from an unknown land. That gave me just enough of a foundation to build upon. 

And probably, an opportunity to be honest.

"I come from beyond this continent. Beyond this world."

The air grew heavier. Skepticism flickered across their faces, but no one dismissed my words outright.

Ren Jin studied me carefully. "Beyond this world?"

I nodded. "A different realm. A distant land unlike this one."

A brief silence. Then Lei Fen frowned. "Realm?"

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Yes… A vast world adrift in the void, circling a distant sun."

More blank stares.

Liang Na tilted her head. "You speak of the Heavens?"

…Oh.

They didn't know.

To them, the world was not a mere sphere drifting in an endless void but an unbroken expanse beneath the firmament—a land of boundless mountains, rivers, and the eternal flow of the Dao.

Right. That was different from Lost Legends Online. There, people understood planets, stars, and the infinite cosmos. But here? The very notion was foreign.

I adjusted immediately. "Not quite. Think of it as… another plane of existence, beyond the reach of this one."

That explanation landed better.

Long Xieren's eyes narrowed. "Another plane?"

"A separate world, inaccessible from this one by ordinary means."

Pan Xia exhaled sharply. "Then you claim to be a cultivator from another realm?"

"Exactly."

Ren Jin's gaze sharpened. "Then how did you arrive here? Ascension?"

A dangerous question. But I wouldn't go so far as to call it Ascension.

"It was not of my choosing."

Liang Na's expression shifted. "You were summoned?"

"Something like that," I said smoothly.

They accepted the answer, though I could see the gears turning in their minds.

Before they could press further, I shifted the conversation. "My people have long been at war."

Ren Jin's expression turned wary. "With whom?"

I met his gaze.

"The Gods."

A sharp intake of breath.

Lei Fen stiffened. Liang Na's eyes widened, her carefully measured composure slipping for the first time. Long Xieren's grip tightened on his robes. Even Ren Jin—ever unreadable—betrayed a flicker of shock.

"The Gods? The Immortals?" Pan Xia's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why?"

I inclined my head. "For as long as my people have existed, we have waged war against them."

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

Long Xieren's voice was grave. "This is… unbelievable. Immortals? You claim to fight against Immortals?" There was something feverish in his eyes, as if the very notion threatened the foundation of his understanding.

Ren Jin, however, remained composed, though his gaze was sharp and searching. "And this war of yours… do your people win?"

I met his eyes.

"…Sometimes."

The air thickened.

To them, this was no small matter. I could feel it in the way their postures tensed, in the unspoken weight pressing against the room.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I had to tell them. At least part of it.

The demon—Brukhelm—set off too many alarms. This wasn't just an anomaly.

The Gods. Final Adversity. The Great Enemy.

They never struck first. They always sent others—their vanguard. Whispers in the dark. Seeds of corruption. Let the mortals tear each other apart before the true calamity arrived.

And Hell? Hell was always eager. It needed no invitation.

I exhaled and met their gazes. "That demon was not some wandering beast. It was part of something larger. I've seen this before."

Pan Xia folded his arms, faking a cough. "Explain. Uuh… Respectfully, I ask Senior to explain."

I nodded. "Demons do not merely appear. They spread like a plague. They offer power to the ambitious, salvation to the desperate, vengeance to the embittered. And when enough heed their call—when enough have succumbed to their whispers—Hell descends."

Lei Fen's frown deepened. "Are you saying this is the beginning of an invasion?"

I measured my words carefully. If I said too much, I could shatter their entire worldview. If I said too little, they might dismiss my warning.

"…It is a possibility," I admitted. "I do not know how far along it is, but I do know this—demons do not act alone. If one has surfaced, there are more. Whether hidden or waiting, they are here."

Liang Na's expression remained unreadable. "And who commands them?"

I hesitated only briefly. "The Great Enemy."

Long Xieren's expression darkened. "You mean… the Immortals?"

A shudder rippled through the room. 

"Gods," I corrected. "I don't know enough about Immortals to say, but it better safe than sorry."

The word 'Immortal' carried weight—too much weight. The elders had lived their lives believing that 'Immortals' stood above the world, lofty and untouchable. That they waged war among themselves, but never against mortals.

And now, I had spoken the unthinkable.

A sharp breath.

Even Ren Jin, who had kept his emotions tightly reined, betrayed a flicker of unease.

"That is a heavy claim," he said at last.

"I do not speak it lightly." My voice was steady, unwavering. "And I do not speak falsehoods."

Liang Na's gaze was cold and assessing. "And you expect us to simply accept this?"

"I expect you to be prepared," I said plainly. "Because the alternative is to ignore it. And if that is your choice, I promise you—you will regret it."

That struck a chord.

Pan Xia's brows furrowed, deep in thought. Lei Fen's fingers drummed against his sleeve, his mind racing through the implications. Ren Jin's piercing gaze never left mine, as if searching for any sign of deception.

"…If what you say is true," Long Xieren said slowly, "then what do you propose we do?"

I exhaled. That was the right question.

"Be vigilant," I said. "Do not assume this is over simply because one demon has fallen. Watch for whispers. For changes in men. For those who gain power too swiftly, or those whose words carry too much charm. Demons do not strike openly at first—they twist the world from the shadows, bending fate to their will. The greatest danger is not the enemy you see. It is the one that watches from the dark."

A deep, lingering silence.

They did not speak immediately.

I could not tell if they fully believed me.

But I knew this much—they were afraid.

And they would not take this lightly.

042 Immersion

I excused myself as soon as I could, leaving behind the Elders and Ren Jin before they could question me further. Their curiosity would have to wait—I had something far more urgent to deal with. Something I shouldn't be delaying.

The moment I was clear of the city, I ran. Not casually. Not cautiously. Full sprint.

Physics aside, I managed to escape them without a commotion and it helped that they left me alone, probably to convene between themselves.

I dashed into the nearest forest, weaving through trees and undergrowth, finally coming to a stop in a secluded clearing. Taking no chances, I pulled out every defensive scroll I could stack upon each other and activated them in quick succession—Magic Reflection, Fortified Sanctuary, Arcane Warding, Divine Aegis, even some obscure ones like Barrier of the Unseen and Heaven's Embrace.

I then cycled through every defensive skill and spell in my arsenal—Armor of the Indomitable, Sacred Bulwark, Shield of the Eternal. By the end of it, I was glowing like an overbuffed raid boss.

Only then did I allow myself to exhale.

"…Alright," I muttered, adjusting my stance. "Come out."

Summon: Holy Spirit~!

The air shimmered, and a figure emerged—a paladin was kneeling before me. Except, he had a face this time. Holy Spirits didn't normally have… a face… not to mention an identity.

"My Lord," he greeted, voice calm and reverent.

I stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Can I call you Dave?"

He lifted his head slightly. "If it pleases you, My Lord."

"…Okay, Dave." I crossed my arms. "Let's talk."

Dave remained kneeling, awaiting my words as if they were divine scripture.

I wasted no time. "What do you know of Lost Legends Online?"

Dave blinked. "I am not familiar with that term, My Lord."

I frowned. "Do you know what a video game is?"

"I do not."

A chill crawled down my spine. I shifted gears. "Are you aware that you're a game character?"

Dave looked at me with mild confusion. "I am your servant."

"That's not what I asked."

He hesitated. "…I do not understand what you mean, My Lord."

I narrowed my eyes. This wasn't making sense. "Then why do you serve me?"

Dave lowered his head again. "Because I worship you."

I stared at him. "What."

"You are my Lord," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That is enough."

My thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Back in LLO, the Gods were our enemies. Instead of worshipping them, Paladins and Priests devoted themselves to the Lost Gods—heroic NPCs or personified concepts that had ascended to godhood through sheer mortal will. That was how it worked.

And yet, Dave was here. Worshipping me.

That didn't fit.

And it really didn't fit because, as a Paladin, I hadn't chosen the Divine Descent skill. That meant 'David_69' technically didn't have a God to worship. The whole point was freedom of faith, where players could pledge themselves to a cause rather than a deity.

So why was Dave acting like this?

I inhaled, forcing myself to focus. "…What do you know about this memory synchronization thing?" There was a time when my memories synchronized with David_69 and I was immersed in the life experiences of a game character.

Dave tilted his head. "Nothing, My Lord."

That was an even bigger mystery.

Because if he didn't know, then that meant—

I shut my eyes, thinking.

This wasn't just a weird mechanic. This wasn't just some lore discrepancy.

Something was wrong.

I had a bad feeling about this memory synchronization.

And the more I thought about it, the worse it got.

I stared at Dave, still kneeling before me. His unwavering devotion didn't sit right with me—not because I was against having a follower, but because of what it meant.

Memory synchronization.

I exhaled, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Should I go for it? Should I synchronize my memories with him?

What would even happen? Would I lose myself?

Last time, it had happened naturally—I had been performing a sword dance, reminiscing about the game and my past life. The memories had aligned, and suddenly, something inside me had clicked.

Did that mean synchronization could also be completed if I slept? My gut told me yes.

I didn't like that.

I folded my arms. "Dave."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"…What do you think I should do?"

Dave lifted his head slightly, his hood shadowing most of his face. "I am uncertain of your dilemma, My Lord. If you seek clarity, then I will pray for your guidance."

"That's not helpful." I sighed. "I'm asking if you think it's a good idea for me to synchronize with you."

Dave was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he spoke.

"I do not know what it would entail, but if it brings you closer to understanding yourself… then I believe it would be wise."

I frowned. "And if it changes me?"

Dave tilted his head. "Would that be a bad thing?"

I hesitated.

Would it?

Would I still be me?

A creeping unease settled in my chest. I didn't have an answer to that.

Divine Sense had always been a miraculous skill. It wasn't just an extension of my perception—it was something deeper. A connection to the unseen. A way to feel the truth of things beyond just sight or sound. I've been researching and grinding it since I realized the flavor text could be manifested into reality in a manner impossible to translate in a game mechanic.

And right now? Divine Sense was warning me.

I didn't know how exactly, but the moment I even considered synchronizing my memories with Dave, my instincts screamed at me. The feeling wasn't one of outright danger, but more like I was about to step past a threshold I couldn't return from.

Still, hesitation wouldn't get me anywhere.

I clenched my fists. "Fine, let's do this."

Dave remained kneeling, watching me with unwavering devotion.

Should I try replicating the sword dance from last time? It had worked before.

Or maybe I should just fall asleep? That seemed like the more natural method, but—

I had a better idea.

It should be possible since a Holy Spirit had its own spell slots, allowing the summon to use a weaker version of my Ultimate Skills.

I extended my hand toward Dave.

"Dave, use Divine Possession on me."

A rush of golden light erupted between us. Unlike my usual skills, this one didn't feel external—it felt like I was shifting. Falling.

And then—

I wasn't me.

I was him.

And I was inside LLO.

But not as a player.

Not from my comfortable chair, not through a monitor or a headset.

I was inside the storyline.

The world around me wasn't rendered in crisp game graphics or bound by game mechanics. There were no UI elements, no glowing quest markers, no safe respawns.

It felt real.

So guttural.

So raw.

I—I was in a war.

Flames raged around me. The battlefield was soaked in blood. Screams tore through the air. The scent of burning flesh filled my nose. My hands gripped a weapon—a greatsword, chipped and worn from endless combat.

I felt pain.

Pain like I had never felt before.

Not the controlled, calculated damage from a game battle. Not the dulled pain of a status effect.

Real pain.

Something hot ripped through my side, and I gasped, staggering back. A spear had pierced me. My vision blurred, but I gritted my teeth and pushed forward.

Enemies surrounded me—demons. Twisted beings with eyes like burning coals, their claws dripping with corruption.

I cut them down.

Again.

And again.

And again.

My body ached. My breath was ragged. My legs trembled.

But I kept fighting.

Because that was what I had always done.

Because I had no other choice.

I was a knight.

A Paladin of the Lost.

And I would not fall.

It was strange.

What had Dave thought when he was fighting these wars?

What had been going through his mind while he cut down demon after demon, while he bled, while he suffered?

Because from where I stood—inside his memories—this wasn't anything like what I'd experienced playing Lost Legends Online.

It didn't look fun.

Not at all.

Yet… what was this feeling?

Through Dave's perspective, I could feel it.

His devotion.

His sincerity.

His unwavering belief in—

A voice.

A presence that tugged at his consciousness, whispering commands in the heat of battle. It told him what skills to use, how to position himself, how to destroy his enemies, and how to protect his allies.

The guidance wasn't intrusive. It wasn't controlling.

It was trusted.

He believed in it.

He relied on it.

And he followed its will with absolute conviction.

Dave enjoyed the battlefield. The chaos, the struggle, the weight of every decision. And while war was a necessity, it wasn't the only thing he lived for.

The World Arena.

That was where his passion truly lay.

The endless clashes with his peers, the thrill of battle, the challenge of adapting to different opponents.

Here, in these memories, I could hear him laughing.

Grinning as he exchanged blows with rival warriors.

Calling out to them as if they were old friends.

And then—

Familiar voices.

Familiar words.

—"So you've finally caught up, huh?" A rival's smirk, a greatsword resting on his shoulder.

—"Don't think you can beat me just because I lost last time!" The fierce declaration of a young warrior, fists raised, flames dancing around him.

—"A duel between heroes is a conversation of blades." An old knight, his stance perfect, his eyes filled with knowing respect.

—"The world will know my name!" A brash challenger, reckless but determined.

—I even heard my own past words. "Tch, you're getting predictable." A taunt, thrown carelessly before a sudden counterattack.

The memories weren't just static images or hollow echoes.

They were alive.

They were real.

And they made me realize something.

What the hell had I been doing all this time, just playing LLO as a game?

Because to Dave…

It had never been a game.

I was starting to develop a certain level of understanding.

Lost Legends Online wasn't just a game.

I didn't know what it was exactly—not yet. But this? This was something else.

It felt too real.

Not in the way people usually said it, like "Oh, the graphics are so realistic!" or "Wow, the AI is amazing!"

No.

This was meta.

LLO wasn't just a game. It was either a representation of something, or worse, a medium that facilitated the lives of the so-called "NPCs" in it.

Was it their reality?

Were they just as real as I was?

Or was it that LLO connected to something outside of itself?

I didn't know.

And the more I thought about it, the worse my headache got.

So what was next? The game devs were actually the Lost Gods?

No, that was stupid. Right?

Right?

I groaned, rubbing my temples.

This was too much. If I thought too hard about it, I'd go insane.

But I couldn't help it. The questions kept coming.

And then—

I remembered.

Not the usual nostalgic memories of playing LLO.

But that moment.

The one time I had actually felt something was wrong.

A hidden boss fight. A bugged-out nightmare of an enemy.

—

It was late at night. I was supposed to log out. But there I was, deep in an abandoned dungeon, following vague clues from old forum posts about a secret encounter.

The name?

[??????????]

Yeah. That's what it looked like. The nameplate was just glitched text.

And the boss?

It wasn't normal.

It wasn't meant to be in the game.

Its attacks didn't follow any logical pattern. It didn't move like an enemy was supposed to move.

It phased in and out of existence. It rewrote reality around itself.

The damage numbers didn't make sense. The status effects weren't listed.

And worst of all—

It spoke.

Not in proper dialogue. Not like an NPC.

It typed.

In the in-game chat.

Random, fragmented messages.

"Who—"

"You do not—"

"This is not—"

I should have logged out.

But I didn't.

Because I was me. Because I was greedy for the loot. Because someone on the forums said there was a legendary drop.

So I did the only thing I could.

I kited mobs to it like crazy.

If I couldn't beat it normally, I'd use the environment against it. I had entire waves of elite enemies chasing me, and I kept weaving them into the eldritch boss's attack range.

It worked. Sort of.

The thing reacted. It hated being interrupted.

And for a while, it looked like I could cheese my way through.

Then—

It adapted.

The glitches changed.

The boss began absorbing the mobs.

It rewrote its own abilities.

It was learning.

That's when I panicked and started calling in favors.

Every friend I had online at the time, every high-level player I could think of, I sent out emergency messages.

Most ignored me.

A few laughed.

But a handful took the bait.

They came.

They saw.

They regretted everything.

Even in a full raid group, we were barely managing. The bugged-out abomination was wrecking everyone with unbalanced, nonsense mechanics. It was erasing people from the fight in ways that didn't even make sense.

No death animation. No grave marker. Just—gone.

And then—

I got the last hit.

A stroke of luck. A final critical strike.

I barely even processed what happened before the screen froze.

Then the game crashed.

Then my PC crashed.

Then—

Then—

My entire room flickered with light.

My PC sparked.

And the last thing I saw before my consciousness faded—

Was that boss's glitched-out, broken text name appearing one final time.

And then I woke up.

Not in my room.

Not in front of my PC.

But here.

In this world.

In my character's body.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the blood drain from my face.

Shit.

Had that thing done something to me?

043 Corruption

My Divine Sense screamed at me.

I gasped, snapping back to reality—no, not my reality. Not yet.

I thought the memory synchronization had finally ended.

But when I blinked, my perspective shifted again.

And I was David_69 once more.

—

The dungeon was suffocating. The air was thick, as if pressing down on my lungs.

No torches. No light sources. Just an endless, stretching void.

And then—

It moved.

A mass of writhing tentacles slithered across the dungeon floor, as if the shadows themselves were alive. The tentacles pulsed, shifting between reality and corruption, their grotesque forms distorting like a broken rendering.

At the core of the entity was a woman.

Or at least, something pretending to be one.

Her face was frozen in a too-wide grin, her eyes bulging, her laughter jagged and unnatural. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe. She just cackled.

And in that moment, I knew.

This wasn't just a memory.

This wasn't just a reenactment.

Because standing beside me, glowing with holy radiance, was Dave.

"My Lord!" he shouted, his voice trembling with equal parts devotion and panic. "This is not a memory reenactment!" It's not part of the memory synchronization, you mean.

I swallowed hard.

No. No, it wasn't.

For the first time since coming to this world, I saw a Name Display.

[Corruption]

I exhaled sharply.

Simply put, this was corrupted data implanted in my head.

I hated the Eldritch Faction.

I freaking hated the Eldritch Faction.

They were always doing weird, fourth-wall-breaking bullshit, and now I was experiencing it firsthand.

This wasn't the same thing I fought in LLO.

This wasn't the same glitched nightmare boss that had nuked my PC.

So logically, I should be able to manage, right?

Right?

There was just one small problem.

I didn't have players or mobs to use as cover.

The silver lining was… Divine Sense had evolved.

In ways I'd never hoped for.

I sidestepped. Then ducked. Then weaved between a series of unnatural movements—no, not movements. Trajectories.

Killing intent had a shape. A path. A direction.

And I could see it.

I wasn't dodging attacks. I was dodging the future.

Dave trailed behind me, keeping pace. His summoned form flickered with holy radiance, barely a step away from phasing out of existence. He was hiding behind me, but not out of fear. He was waiting. Watching.

Summon: Holy Spirit was an ability that allowed me to summon an NPC of my class at 70% of my level. Dave should be sitting somewhere around Level 190.

Could two Paladin-class characters take down a raid boss?

I didn't think so.

Our problem was simple: damage output.

Sure, we could spam offensive ultimates and shave off chunks of [Corruption]'s health, but that thing could just soak it up. Worse, we'd be accelerating our own demise.

"We need a plan," I muttered, side-glancing at Dave as we continued dodging.

"My Lord, I suggest overwhelming it with divine might!"

"We don't have enough of that."

"We can keep striking it down until it ceases moving!"

"We don't have enough of that either."

Dave hesitated, then frowned. "Then… how do we win?"

That was the million-gold question.

I eyed the cackling woman at the core of the mass of tentacles. Unlike the writhing, ever-shifting corruption around her, she was a fixed point—a constant in the chaos.

A weakness.

"I don't think this thing is fully real," I said. "It's a… fucking bug or something. The way it's moving… the way it's interacting with this space… it's like it's trying to overwrite something."

I wasn't getting everything from Divine Sense, but that was the idea.

Dave's glow flickered. "My Lord, are you saying…?"

I nodded. "We can't beat this thing."

In LLO, purging corrupted data usually required some kind of system intervention. GMs, rollback functions, and even rare quest items meant to debug glitching entities.

I had none of that.

But maybe…

I clenched my fist.

"Dave, I need time. Keep it busy."

Dave straightened. "At once, my Lord!"

He lunged forward, drawing his greatsword and cleaving through the eldritch mass. Holy energy burst from the impact, buying me a few precious seconds.

I only hoped it would be enough.

I remembered an old rumor from LLO's beta testing.

A loose monster.

A corrupted piece of data.

At the time, players thought it was some kind of malicious joke by the game devs. The reason was simple—perma-death.

This thing wasn't just wrecking the game; it was ruining lives.

Conspiracy theories ran rampant on the forums. Some people claimed the game's glitches, bugs, and those unreasonable, virus-like monsters were actually manifestations of the Eldritch.

Time and time again, they appeared—sometimes to raise the stakes of an event, sometimes just randomly out of nowhere, turning everything into a nightmare.

No one liked the Eldritch Faction among the Great Enemy.

Whenever they showed up, the genre flipped into a souls-like death trap, and perma-death was handed out freely with love and care.

But despite all that, these things still followed the game's rules.

They had health bars.

They had skills.

They had limitations.

I watched as Dave shielded me, his holy radiance growing dimmer. I think he died one time already and then used an Ultimate to top off again. His body—his summoned projection—was riddled with injuries. His form was cracked, his sword chipped.

Yet, he still fought with everything he had.

And that was why this would work.

I clenched my fist.

"EGRESS!"

A streak of brilliant white light engulfed me.

For a split second, I saw [Corruption] thrashing—tentacles recoiling, the cackling woman at its core twisting in distorted rage.

Then, the world shattered.

And the next thing I knew, Dave and I were no longer in that twisted, memory-infested space.

[Corruption] still lived.

I could feel her.

A persistent, gnawing presence at the back of my mind, like a parasite that refused to die. She wasn't in control—not yet—but she was aware. Aware of me. Of my existence. Of my thoughts.

I exhaled, rubbing my temple.

"That was unpleasant," I muttered.

Dave was kneeling beside me, his summoned form flickering, on the verge of dispersing. His face was grim, but his devotion hadn't wavered. "My Lord, are you well?"

"Well enough," I said, though the pounding in my skull said otherwise. "That thing… It's still here. I can feel it. Like it's waiting."

Dave tightened his grip on his sword. "Should I attempt an exorcism?"

I scoffed. "Yeah, no thanks. Last thing I need is for you to accidentally smite my soul out of my body." This was Eldritch we were talking about, not some demonic seed in its infancy.

He hesitated. "Then what shall we do?"

I sighed, staring at my hands. "The only thing we can do—I need to get stronger."

Dave nodded, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Indeed, My Lord. Your holy radiance is mighty, but the Great Enemy is insidious. You must become an even greater force."

I snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly a walking calamity yet."

Dave looked almost offended at that. "Yet."

I shook my head. "I also need to absorb more knowledge of this world. The rules here might not be exactly like LLO. If I assume too much, I'm going to get killed. For real." The fallen angel and the demonic threat seemed like minor concerns now at the prospect of getting Eldritch-ed if that was even a word.

Dave didn't argue. He simply waited, listening.

"And… I need to break past the level cap."

He blinked, as if surprised. "You believe such a thing is possible?"

"I can start with experimenting on some skills' flavor texts for example, but that wouldn't be enough..." I shrugged. "Back in LLO, the level cap was just a system limitation. Players theorized there were hidden conditions to surpass it… even without the game devs' input. It was just never confirmed."

Dave furrowed his brow. "But this is not the world you used to know, My Lord. This world follows its own laws."

"I don't know about that," I said. "There might be a way. I just need to figure out how."

Dave fell silent for a moment before nodding. "Then I shall aid you however I can."

I gave him a tired smirk. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

"My Lord," murmured Dave as his form began to fade. "It seemed I've incurred damage from the [Corruption] and had sustained enough damage. I am afraid I have to go."

The [Corruption] probably had a Damage Over Time skill... ugh... disgusting...

"Rest, Dave..."

And then Dave vanished without even managing to say goodbye.

Despite everything, despite the looming threat of [Corruption], despite not knowing what the hell I had actually gotten myself into, I felt something resembling… determination.

One thing was clear.

If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to win—I had to evolve.

I had the perfect guinea pig to test how this world's power system could integrate with what I knew—Lu Gao.

If there was one thing that stood out, it was how Brukhelm didn't use the flashy techniques he had demonstrated in the martial tournament. That sword wave he could call back and forth? Completely absent. The lack of him, using Ultimate Skills had been most worrisome. There had to be a reason for that. And then there was Fan Shi. She was another valuable data point—her abilities might help me draw the line between mana and qi.

This called for a long, arduous quest.

But before anything else, I had to deal with Yellow Dragon City. After everything that just happened, they were going to need help.

I glanced toward the city's skyline, wondering if the festival would still continue. Lin Lim's people had been looking forward to the Grand Feast. It didn't sit right with me that something they had worked so hard for could just… disappear overnight because of a catastrophe.

A presence stirred behind me.

I turned, already knowing who it was. "You're late."

Jiang Zhen stood there, his expression unreadable as ever. "I came as soon as I could."

It was then that I noticed.

His whole left arm was missing.

Shit.

That looked painful.

Jiang Zhen caught my gaze and, as if sensing my thoughts, casually remarked, "I encountered a demon."

I frowned. "Demonic cultivator?"

He shook his head. "No. Something else. Demonic? Yes. Human? Never."

I exhaled through my nose, my mind immediately trying to piece things together. A different kind of demon? One not from the usual demonic cultivation path? That was concerning. Or maybe, the easiest answer... was the demon he fought was the kind I'd hate more to see in this world.

I didn't ask for more details just yet. Instead, I raised my hand.

I've exhausted my spell slots. I've used Judgement Severance, Final Adjudication, and Divine Word: Rest. So I resorted to my gear's special ability. I used one of my Wandering Adjudicator's effects called 'Ephemereal Touch', which allowed usage of any Ultimate Skill regardless of spell slots, mana resource, and cooldown. Moreover, it couldn't be canceled. It had a painful cooldown period of 120 hours though.

"Divine Word: Life."

A pulse of invisible energy radiated from my fingertip and flowed into Jiang Zhen. It wasn't a direct healing spell—it fortified health, empowered all healing cast on the target, and, more importantly, it had a chance to remove a random debuff for every healing magic that connected.

And in my book, Dismembered was a debuff.

"Great Cure."

A moment later, Jiang Zhen exhaled sharply. His sleeve stirred, then flesh and bone twisted into existence—his arm regrew, complete and unblemished.

He flexed his fingers, testing the movement. "...I see."

"That's a 'thank you' moment," I pointed out.

Jiang Zhen glanced at me and nodded. "Thank you."

He moved his arm a bit more, adjusting to the sensation. Meanwhile, my mind was already spinning, analyzing.

A demon that wasn't a demonic cultivator.

That was something I couldn't ignore.

I dispelled the layered barriers protecting me, letting out a slow breath. The pressure weighing down on me lightened, but the conversation ahead wasn't going to be easy.

Jiang Zhen was still flexing his newly restored arm, his gaze sharp as he finally looked at me properly. "You knew something was coming." He was referring to my barriers.

I didn't deny it. "Had a bad feeling." I'd rather not talk about my memory thingy.

"Hmph." He let that slide, but I knew he wasn't done with the topic. "Tell me—what do you know about the demon I fought? I have a feeling you have an answer... for that."

I crossed my arms. "Depends. What did they look like?"

"Dark skin. Two horns." Jiang Zhen's face darkened. "Didn't use much qi, but they could command supernatural powers like yours." That was one way to describe skills.

I stilled.

It was exactly like Brukhelm.

Jiang Zhen's eyes bore into me, his unspoken accusation clear.

I sighed. "You can get the details from Lei Fen."

For a moment, it looked like he was about to press me further, but then he let out a slow exhale and relaxed—just a little. "Tch. Too bad I couldn't kill them twice."

I raised a brow. "You sure you killed them even once?"

Jiang Zhen shot me a sharp look, but I wasn't joking.

I shrugged. "Demons are annoying like that."

His gaze narrowed. "Explain."

I considered my words, then decided to just rip off the bandage. "There's a good chance that demon is still alive. Their body might be gone, but their soul? Probably not."

Jiang Zhen's face darkened further. "That's impossible. A soul without a body cannot exist for long."

"Not for long, sure. But if it finds a new host?" I gave him a pointed look. "Then it's just a matter of waiting."

Jiang Zhen paled.

I nodded. "Yeah. Demonic soul parasitism. A real pain in the ass."

"That kind of technique…" Jiang Zhen clenched his fists. "Only immortals are supposed to be capable of that."

"Guess your demon didn't get the memo."

Silence stretched between us. I could see the gears turning in his head. The realization that this wasn't over was sinking in fast. There were probably more demons out there, the kind that regularly visited LLO.

I decided to lighten the mood. "Hey, at least now you have a cool story. 'I fought an immortal-level demon and survived.' Sounds impressive." I was being a sarcastic jerk, but this was Jiang Zhen we were talking about.

Jiang Zhen gave me a deadpan look. "I lost an arm."

"And got it back." I gestured at his fully restored limb. "Look at that. Good as new."

"…Tch." He glanced at his arm and sighed. "Fine. You're right."

I smirked. "I usually am."

Jiang Zhen scoffed but didn't argue. "Still. If that demon comes back…"

"You'll have a second chance," I said. "And this time, you can kill them twice."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Hah. You really know how to talk."

"It's a talent."

For the first time since arriving, Jiang Zhen didn't look like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe I was getting better at this whole not ruining someone's day completely thing.

Small victories.

044 His Legend 

"You mean to tell me you cannot fly?" Jiang Zhen's voice carried a hint of amusement, barely concealed behind a facade of solemnity.

I shot him a glare. "I can fall with style. That count?"

Perched atop his flying shovel, Jiang Zhen smirked, arms folded like some sagely immortal. The wind tugged at his robes, making him look infuriatingly majestic.

"No, my friend," he said. "It does not."

I resisted the urge to scowl and instead retrieved Lofty Jade Proposition from my storage, draping the armor over my current gear. The armor had an impressive air to it, though it felt cumbersome compared to the flowing robes I had grown accustomed to.

Jiang Zhen stroked his chin, eyes filled with what could only be judgment. "A cultivator of your strength, yet you lack even the most basic flight techniques…" He sighed as if lamenting the injustice of the heavens. "Truly, fate is blind."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you done? Go report to the City Governor."

He arched a brow. "And you?"

"I'll stay behind."

Jiang Zhen frowned. "Why?"

"Healing," I replied simply.

For a moment, he seemed surprised. Then, much to my irritation, he nodded approvingly. "Hm. At least you bear some responsibility."

"I could just leave it all to you," I said dryly. "You're the one who can fly, after all."

Jiang Zhen snorted. "See you later, ground-dweller." With a flick of his sleeve, he soared toward the City Governor's manor, vanishing into the sky and leaving me in the ruins of Yellow Dragon City.

I exhaled, then reached into my storage and retrieved Chibi Perfume. With a single spray, my body shrank, my features softening into something small, harmless, and utterly unrecognizable as the Paladin who had just fought an eldritch nightmare and a fallen angel with too much xianxia energy.

Time to get to work.

I moved through the city with inhuman speed, darting through alleys, leaping across rooftops, and casting Cure on every wounded soul I encountered. Most were unconscious or too dazed to question their sudden recovery, which suited me just fine.

It was bad.

The city had suffered more than just a demon's wrath. Panic had taken root, and where chaos reigned, opportunists thrived. Looters prowled the streets, thugs and desperate cultivators clashed for spoils, and the lingering aura of the abyssal entity had driven men to madness. Fights erupted in every corner—brawls between those too shaken to think, too paranoid to trust, too consumed by fear to remember their own humanity.

Yellow Dragon City was a battlefield still.

And I had much work to do.

I remembered how it worked in Lost Legends Online. Merely standing in a demon's presence could warp an NPC's mind—fear, rage, and desperation, all magnified a hundredfold. The strong-willed could resist. The weak? They would snap, lashing out in madness or blind terror.

Brukhelm's aura had drowned all of Yellow Dragon City. If not for the Great Barrier that Ren Jin and his people had deployed, the city would've been reduced to a wasteland of corpses and ruin.

I kept running. Kept casting Cure. Kept moving—because I wasn't sure I wanted to stop and truly see how much had been lost.

Then I passed by Lin Lim's camp and knew, immediately, that something was wrong.

It wasn't just the exhaustion that came after catastrophe. No, this was worse—thick with resentment, simmering on the edge of violence. Lin Lim's people were gathered at the center, tense, wary. Surrounding them was a small but growing crowd of Yellow Dragon City residents.

"This wouldn't have happened if you people weren't here!"

The accusation cut through the murmurs like a blade.

Lin Lim stood at the front, her mask nowhere in sight. Scars marred her closed eyes, yet she moved with an unerring confidence, as if sight were a trivial thing. Her expression was unreadable, but I could tell—she had expected this.

"Do you have proof of this claim?" Her voice was calm, measured.

A man at the front scoffed. "Proof? The whole city saw what happened! Ever since you and your people arrived, everything has fallen into chaos. First, the tournament is ruined, then a monster appears, and now look—looting, destruction, our own people turning on each other! Don't act innocent! If it weren't for your kind, none of this would've happened!"

Murmurs of agreement spread like wildfire. A woman clutched her child close, eyes burning with grief and fury.

"People died," she spat. "People lost their homes! And while we were fighting for our lives, you were—"

"We were protecting who we could." Lin Lim's voice was steady, but beneath it was a steel edge. "Do not twist the truth."

The woman's glare only darkened. "You call that protection? Some of your own people fell under that demon's influence! You couldn't even control them! And now you expect us to believe you're on our side?"

Lin Lim inhaled slowly.

"None of us were immune to that presence," she said. "I tried to contain the chaos. I tried to hold my people together. But there are limits to what one person can do alone."

A muttered voice in the crowd sneered, "You shouldn't have been here at all."

Lin Lim shook her head. "Would you have fared better without us?"

An uneasy silence settled over the square.

"I do not ask for gratitude," Lin Lim continued. "I understand fear. I understand loss. But you must also understand—none of us chose this."

A few people looked away. The anger hanging in the air did not vanish, but it shifted. Doubt crept into some faces, uncertainty replacing the absolute fury of moments before. Yet, others still clung to their resentment, unwilling to yield.

Lin Lim had done what she could.

I had no doubt this would not be the last time her people faced such hostility.

She stood tall, surrounded by her own. They were not an army, but they carried weapons, bore armor, and had the sharp-eyed wariness of survivors. Their pilgrimage to Yellow Dragon City had clearly not been kind—every face was lined with hardship, every stance braced for the next battle. Their presence alone was enough to dissuade the weak-willed.

But intimidation only worked until someone got reckless.

A rock cut through the air.

It spun toward Lin Lim's head, swift and unrelenting.

She moved before I could, tilting her head ever so slightly. With the barest shift of her hand, the stone landed in her palm with a muted clap. She let it drop to the ground.

Silence.

Then, movement.

One of her men lunged forward, blade flashing in the dim light.

His sword arced toward the crowd—toward the fool who had thrown the rock.

I was already there.

Clang.

The blade stopped. Not against a sword, not against armor—against my fingers.

Just two fingers.

Pinched like I was holding chopsticks.

The swordsman froze, his face locked in disbelief.

The poor bastard he had nearly cut down—the familiar arcade stall owner who had once sold Jia Yun a mask—had stumbled back onto the ground, pale and wide-eyed.

Then his gaze flickered to me.

And his eyes filled with recognition.

I exhaled. This was exactly the kind of mess I wanted to avoid.

"This farce ends now."

My voice cut through the tension, sharp and unyielding.

The swordsman jerked his blade, trying to wrench it free, but I didn't let go. My grip remained firm as I turned my gaze to the crowd, making sure every single one of them heard me.

"Let's get one thing straight—none of you want this fight."

With a flick of my fingers, I released the sword, sending a jolt up the man's arm. He stumbled back, gripping his weapon like he wasn't sure if it would protect him or betray him.

"You're angry. You're scared. I get it. But throwing hands right now? That's just going to make things worse."

Some looked away, guilt creeping into their expressions. Others still clung to their resentment, but at least they weren't acting on it. Yet.

I shifted my gaze to Lin Lim's people.

"And you. Do you think swinging weapons will help? Do you think making yourselves look more like a threat will solve your problems?"

A few of them shifted uneasily. No one had an answer.

I sighed and turned back to the city's residents.

"You're all looking for someone to blame, but take a good look around. This city suffered. Your people suffered. Fighting each other won't fix anything. So unless someone really wants to see just how far I'm willing to take this—" I flexed my fingers, knuckles cracking like thunder. "—I suggest you all stop."

Silence.

Then, one by one, weapons lowered. People turned away, unwilling to admit I was right, but none willing to push further either.

Crisis averted. For now.

Lin Lim exhaled, her shoulders still tense. Her scarred eyes stayed locked on me, as if trying to see beyond the surface.

"Thank you, young master…?" Her words trailed into a question, doubt clear in her tone.

Not surprising. I had just stopped a sword with two fingers.

I gave her an easy smile. "You handled that well."

She stared.

"…What?"

Blinking, she shook her head, looking almost embarrassed. "Ah… Apologies, young master. You reminded me of my brother. He's a genius too."

Hearing that made me feel weirdly awkward. Like I was being lumped in with some prodigy I didn't even know. And now… I felt oddly conflicted about revealing my real identity.

Still, I grinned. "He must be a genius with the ladies too."

Lin Lim let out an awkward laugh.

…Wait.

Wait a minute.

Did she just see through me?

Did she know I was in disguise?

More importantly—how did she know I wasn't good with the ladies?!

What gave me away?!

…Meh.

Jokes aside, a question lingered in my mind.

I gestured toward the tent behind her, where her people huddled—tired, uncertain, their spirits worn thin by hardship.

"What is it you hope to achieve by helping them?"

Lin Lim's expression darkened, then hardened.

"Atonement."

Huh.

That was… admirable, in its own way.

I didn't ask what she was atoning for. If she wanted to tell me, she would.

Instead, I turned my attention to the wounded. There were too many—victims of the chaos, the looting, the paranoia that had swept the city when the demon's aura had tainted the skies.

I wasn't a saint. I wasn't some divine healer with infinite power. But I was someone who could do something.

And so, I did.

I left Lin Lim behind—though not before flinging a few Cure spells across her camp.

Then I moved. Quickly.

Cure to mend open wounds and bruises. Cleanse to purge the lingering filth of fear and malice. Some injuries were beyond basic healing, so I reached into my inventory, fingers brushing against cold stone.

Low-level resurrection stones.

People called death permanent. But in LLO, it wasn't. Not always.

It was painfully naive to expect zero casualties. Even more naive to burn through precious resources with no way to replenish them.

But this was my choice.

If I had the means to help, why shouldn't I?

As I worked, whispers spread. Murmurs of a divine healer, a saint who brought salvation with one hand and destruction with the other.

I barely noticed.

Unbeknownst to me, that day marked the birth of a legend—a tale passed from mouth to mouth, a story of a wandering divine who wielded miracles as easily as he shattered mountains.

045 Qi & Mana

Jiang Zhen let out a quiet scoff as he swirled his tea, watching the arena below. "I still can't believe the City Governor decided to continue the festival."

I took a slow sip, enjoying the warmth of the cup in my hands. "It would've been a pity if he didn't."

Jiang Zhen gave me a sideways glance, arching a brow. "Oh? That's an interesting take, considering everything that just happened."

I gestured toward the arena below, where the festival's final matches were in full swing amidst the rubble left behind in my fight with Brukhelm. "Ren Jin has a good thing going on here. If the festival stopped now, what would be left? Just fear and uncertainty. A city full of people waiting for the next disaster."

Jiang Zhen hummed, considering that.

The truth was, I had my doubts too. The attack, the chaos, the demon—Yellow Dragon City had suffered. But in the aftermath, people needed something to hold onto. Something normal.

And this festival? It was normal. It was a reminder that life didn't just stop.

I exhaled, leaning against the railing. "Besides, after everything that's happened, don't you think people deserve a little distraction?"

Jiang Zhen snorted. "So, what you're saying is, Ren Jin just wants to keep morale up?"

"Something like that," I admitted.

Jiang Zhen took another sip of his tea, watching the fights below. "...Tch. Maybe he really is a prince worth following."

But didn't he already lose? Ah, I should stop this line of thinking… The last thing I wanted was to be dragged into a court drama of xianxia proportions.

The arena roared with excitement as Fan Shi, Jia Yun, and Huo Jun clashed in a three-way battle for the championship. The sight was mesmerizing—Fan Shi, a phantom on the battlefield, moving like a ghost, her eerie presence making her opponents second-guess their own attacks. Jia Yun, fast and relentless, danced through the fight with an almost playful grace, her third-person speech throwing off the rhythm of her opponents... or something like that. And then there was Huo Jun, a blazing force of nature, his strikes carrying the weight of a wildfire ready to consume anything in its path.

I had healed each of them to tip-top shape before the fight began—no excuses, no disadvantages. If they wanted the title, they'd have to earn it fair and square.

Jiang Zhen, sipping his tea beside me, glanced over with mild curiosity. "Hey, back when I still had my stall… what was the reason you kept coming back?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What, you're suddenly reminiscing?"

He scoffed. "Just answer the question."

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "For the fun of it."

Jiang Zhen clicked his tongue. "Liar. Nobody goes out of their way that much just for fun. There had to be another reason."

I didn't answer right away. The truth? I had realized I could grind my Divine Sense skill just by watching him work... and also the fishies. But admitting that would take away the mystery, and where was the fun in that? For some reason, the fishies were perceived by my Divine Sense as unique. There was a 'spark' or something. In the end, I caught the one with the smallest spark.

At Jiang Zhen's scowl, I just smiled cryptically and turned my attention back to the fight.

My thoughts drifted back to the day I first arrived in this world. It had barely been a week—technically, today was the sixth day of the festival, but at this rate, it would be the seventh before I knew it.

In that time, I had:

Slapped young masters. Twice.Recruited a cultivator with a tumultuous past who was now quietly watching the match beside us. (Gu Jie, looking stoic beside the goldfish.)Bought a goldfish named 'Ren Jingyi' that was happily swimming in a bowl on the desk.Befriended a Sect Master.Exchanged sharp words with Sect Elders.Bet big on xianxia fights and even sabotaged one of the said Elders.Befriended a few disciples.Fought a freaking doped-up demon.Learned there was probably an eldritch entity in my head.Yeah. It had been a busy week.

Jiang Zhen swirled his cup before taking a sip, giving me a side glance. "You look deep in thought. Feeling sentimental?"

I smirked. "Just realizing how eventful my week has been."

He huffed a small laugh. "No kidding. You've probably done more in six days than some people do in six years."

I hummed in agreement before shifting the topic. "Say, Jiang Zhen, what do you think is the fundamental difference between mana and qi?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Where's this coming from?"

"Curiosity. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

Jiang Zhen leaned forward, placing his elbow on the table. "Well… if I had to sum it up, qi is more intrinsic to the body, while mana is more external. Qi refines the self—body, mind, and soul—while mana manipulates the world around you... or so how I understood it from my perspective after hearing your explanation."

I rubbed my chin. "So qi is about self-strengthening, while mana is about affecting the environment?"

"That's a simple way to put it," Jiang Zhen said. "Too simple. Qi cultivators train their own existence, pushing their limits, extending their lifespans, and becoming something beyond mortal. Mana users, though? I could be wrong because you are a bad teacher and you have a shit explanation. So what I am thinking is... practitioners of mana wield external forces—controlling elements, bending reality to their will, but they don't necessarily refine themselves in the same way. What's better? I don't know. I understand too little to do comparative analysis at this point, but yeah... it's something like that."

"Yeah, that's something," I considered his words. "Then what happens when you try to combine the two?"

Jiang Zhen clicked his tongue. "That's a dangerous road. Pioneering a new path… is always a dangerous road."

"But it's not impossible," I pointed out. "You should know, you have Fan Shi."

Mana was a theoretical energy, one that didn't technically exist in a tangible form. You couldn't observe it with the naked eye—or even with any known spectrum, for that matter. It was the unseen force that moved elements, shaped energies, and interacted with the world in ways that defied normal physics. Unlike qi, it had no fixed quantity, only a shifting quality tied directly to stats like Charisma, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Perception. Some theorized that mana originated from the Great Subconscious, a vast and unknowable sea of thought that all sentient beings were connected to.

Despite being called 'theoretical energy,' mana still had visual representations—but only to the person using it or if the skill would interact with other forms of energy. That was where the mumbo-jumbo kicked in, about perception shaping reality and reality shaping perception. Honestly, it was just as convoluted as the qi lore of this world.

Jiang Zhen had been surprisingly cooperative in our discussions. He wanted a breakthrough as much as I did. In his case, his cultivation.

"Qi is a power that permeates all life," Jiang Zhen explained, swirling his tea as if it contained the secrets of the universe. "It is the breath of the world, the rhythm of existence, the foundation upon which all cultivation stands."

I squinted at him. "Uh-huh. And in stats terms?"

Jiang Zhen smirked. "Well, according to the system you followed… Probably… Eh... Constitution, Strength, Agility, and Dexterity. Those shape one's capacity to cultivate qi, which at least explains the framework of the Martial Tempering Realm or the First Realm as people called it. Though that would be painfully incorrect, it was the closest analogy to what you have in mind. Frankly, both systems operate on different ideologies and visions, it is dangerous to experiment with them together. Frankly, it is stupid to try merging these two systems."

Yeah, as if that didn't stop you from teaching Fan Shi.

Not that I couldn't understand. It was fascinating seeing everything come full circle.

I could imagine another player in my position—some eager min-maxer trying to mix both systems without a clue, only to mess up their compatibility and boom, self-destruction. I was very glad I had held back.

My thoughts turned to Fan Shi. She wielded both mana and qi—an anomaly in this world. That meant her training must have been a nightmare to get right.

"What's her training like?" I asked. "Fan Shi, I mean."

Jiang Zhen sighed. "Fan Shi is a unique genius. She adapted quickly to our techniques, but finding the right cultivation method for her was a challenge. Her consciousness techniques—the ones that manifest in her—made it difficult. I had to carefully select her training, making sure it wouldn't cause an imbalance to her attributes."

"Let me guess," I raised an eyebrow. "Fan Shi started late because it took you time to figure out what wouldn't make her explode?"

"That's putting it lightly," Jiang Zhen nodded. "I spent years studying her to ensure she could walk this path safely."

I stared at him. "Years? Damn. That's dedication."

Jiang Zhen simply sipped his tea. "A good teacher doesn't let their disciple die from carelessness."

I glanced back at the match below, watching Fan Shi fight with terrifying precision. No wonder in terms of cultivation level, she was a bit lagging compared to her peers. Yeah… cultivators in this world really were built differently.

Also...

Huo Jun won.

It was by the slimmest margin, but a win was a win. Fan Shi had fought with her usual eerie precision, and Jia Yun's elemental techniques had nearly overpowered and put Huo Jun off balance multiple times, but in the end, Huo Jun had better technique and stats.

Jiang Zhen hummed beside me, clearly entertained. "You really suck at betting."

I scoffed. "What did I say? I like betting on the underdog."

With a flick, I tossed him the gold piece I had wagered—a unique coin from Lost Legends Online.

Jiang Zhen caught it between two fingers, turning it over with interest. "It certainly has a history to it… never seen anything like this before. I'll ask a friend of mine if they've seen anything sharing the same aesthetic."

Which was saying something. Jiang Zhen had lived long enough that if he were a mortal, he'd probably be a walking fossil by now.

He pocketed the coin and leaned back against the balcony railing, gaze still locked on the arena below. "What are your plans for that Lu kid?"

I exhaled slowly. I knew this question would come sooner or later. "He's under my protection."

Jiang Zhen's lips quirked slightly, but he didn't comment. Instead, he casually added, "From what I hear, the Lu Clan has disowned him and is calling for his execution."

I clenched my jaw. That was quick.

Not unexpected, though. Lu Gao had been demon-possessed, and now that he had lost the tournament and gotten himself tangled up with more complicated matters, they probably decided he wasn't worth the trouble. If he died, it would tie up a loose end for them.

Tough luck for them—I wasn't going to let that happen.

Rather than dwell on that depressing thought, I changed the subject. "So tell me about that old ruin."

Jiang Zhen frowned. "What ruin?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No way you haven't checked the place yet." I was referring to where Fan Shi found her Legacy Advancement Book.

He huffed. "There are many ruins, boy."

"I mean the ruin," I said. "The one I've been hearing about. I want to see it for myself and decide from there what my next move should be."

Jiang Zhen hesitated. Then, after a beat, he shook his head. "I don't know."

I blinked. "What?"

"The place appears and disappears at random intervals in just as random a location," he explained. "The next time it will be opening is probably a year from now or could be longer."

Well. That was a pity.

I stood up, stretching a bit. "I'm gonna check on Lu Gao."

Gu Jie, standing quietly behind me, shifted slightly as if preparing to follow, but I gestured for her to stay put. She tilted her head at me, then nodded in understanding.

Jiang Zhen, however, turned his attention to her. "Gu Jie, is it? I've heard a lot about you… from Lei Fen."

Gu Jie didn't react much, simply watching him with that unreadable expression of hers. Well, whatever. I guessed I could leave them to themselves.

I stepped away from the balcony and activated Zealot's Stride and Flash Step in tandem, my movements blurring as I sped through the manor's corridors, diving deeper underground. The dungeons were colder than I remembered, with the air thick with dampness and the faint scent of aged stone and metal.

Lu Gao had been in a coma for some time and had only woken up this morning. Even so, he was still in rough shape.

I arrived at his cell, separated by thick steel bars.

Lu Gao lay on a simple cot, looking like he'd lost a fight with the world itself. His once-pristine robes were now nothing more than tattered scraps, his bandages stained from the wounds that had only recently begun to close. His complexion was better than before, but there was still a gauntness to his features.

My Divine Word: Rest had done a lot to heal his mental scars. Even if I had resurrected him, the trauma of what he'd gone through hadn't completely left him. His body might have mended, but his mind… that was another story.

Lu Gao's gaze slowly lifted from the ground, his eyes shadowed but lucid. He looked at me for a long moment before finally speaking.

"I remember you," he said. "From the demon's memories."

I leaned against the cold steel bars, crossing my arms. "Yeah? What was that like?"

He exhaled, his posture weary. "Like watching a play unfold before me. I could see everything, but I couldn't hear anything. Couldn't speak. It was like I existed, but I wasn't real."

That… sounded horrifying.

I tapped my fingers against the bars. "Then let me ask you this—how did the demon learn to cultivate?"

Lu Gao frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know." His voice was hollow. "My dantian was supposed to be destroyed."

Right. From what I understood, the dantian was where cultivators accumulated energy and roughly where their cultivation started. If his had been shattered, then logically, that should have meant no more cultivation. But Brukhelm had somehow managed it.

Interesting.

I studied him for a moment before asking, "So, what do you want to do now?"

His answer was immediate.

"Repent."

I blinked. That was… plain. No dramatic declarations of revenge, no insistence on reclaiming his lost honor. Just a simple desire to atone.

I sighed, rubbing my neck. "Alright. I'll accept you under my wing." It wasn't like he had a say.

Lu Gao's expression barely changed, but I caught the slight flicker of surprise in his eyes.

I continued, "But with your cultivation crippled, you'll be nothing more than an errand boy."

He didn't object. If anything, he seemed to expect that.

In truth, my decision wasn't entirely out of kindness. I knew what I was doing.

Having a direct reference like Lu Gao—someone who had memories of a being that shared my power system and successfully cultivated something—would be groundbreaking. I needed to understand how Brukhelm had done it.

Of course, I would have preferred someone like Fan Shi, but I couldn't be greedy. I wasn't about to risk my relationship with Jiang Zhen or the trust I'd built with a promising cultivator just to experiment.

So, for now, Lu Gao would do.

"The demon… Bu-ru-Luk-Keng-elm…" Lu Gao started, his voice was hoarse, and had difficulty pronouncing the name. "He was arrogant. Spiteful. Cavalier in the path of cultivation."

I stayed quiet, letting him speak at his own pace.

"He treated it like a game. Like a race to the peak without caring about the foundation." Lu Gao's fingers twitched slightly. "But that's not how it works. Building a road isn't just about reaching the destination. It's about making sure you can walk back and forth without crumbling along the way."

I hummed in thought. That sounded like something a more experienced cultivator would say. If Brukhelm had figured this out too late, then it might've explained some of his issues.

Lu Gao hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. Then, after a deep breath, he spoke again.

"At some point, despite his fluency in wielding qi, he… stopped agreeing with it."

I narrowed my eyes. "Stopped agreeing with it?"

Lu Gao nodded. "Something about incompatibility. His body couldn't sustain it anymore. Even though he knew how to use it, something… rejected him."

That was interesting. So, Brukhelm had struggled with qi at some point, even though he had successfully cultivated? What exactly caused that rejection?

Before I could ask more, the sound of footsteps interrupted us.

A woman entered. Well-dressed, noble in bearing, moving with effortless grace. She had an air of authority that immediately commanded attention.

She greeted me with reverence. "Young master. I must thank you for aiding our city in its time of crisis."

Lu Gao respectfully bowed his head. "City Lord."

Wait, City Lord?

I quickly pieced it together—she was the Governor's wife.

She smiled, her gaze warm but sharp. "I am Yue Ruo."

For a moment, I almost bowed or saluted or something, but then I remembered my current status. At the moment, I wasn't just some passerby. If anything, I had the advantage here.

As she entered, I finally noticed something odd. The cell wasn't locked. The bars were there, but there was no keyhole or obvious mechanism securing it.

Yue Ruo carried a tray of food, stepping in without hesitation. She made casual conversation with Lu Gao, asking about his condition, his meals, his thoughts.

I watched this exchange carefully.

Finally, I asked, "You're not afraid he'll run?"

Yue Ruo chuckled softly like I'd asked a naive question.

"He wouldn't make it far," she said. "Running would only further incriminate him. Besides…" She gestured toward the bracelet around Lu Gao's wrist. "That is imbued with powerful fire spells. Should he attempt to escape, he would be thoroughly destroyed."

And what if he kidnapped you? Sigh… Maybe she was secretly powerful or had hidden bodyguards I couldn't detect even with Divine Sense…

I glanced at Lu Gao. He didn't react. He already knew.

"One last thing." I kept my voice casual, but there was weight behind my words. "Lu Gao, how did you become acquainted with the demon?"

Lu Gao blinked, looking almost startled by the question. "Huh?" He furrowed his brows, thinking hard. "Uuh… I can't remember."

I frowned. "Can't remember, or won't?"

Lu Gao shook his head. "No, really. It's like… my memories are blocked. There's something missing." He looked frustrated, struggling to grasp at thoughts just out of reach.

That was concerning. Was it a natural effect of what he'd been through? Or had someone—or something—intentionally erased those memories?

"But," Lu Gao continued, "I do remember performing a certain ritual. That's how I made a contract with the demon."

I narrowed my eyes. "A ritual?"

Lu Gao nodded hesitantly. "Yeah. It was… intricate. I remember needing specific materials, symbols drawn a certain way… and a name." His expression turned uncertain. "But the name itself… I can't recall it."

That sent alarms ringing in my mind.

"Do you remember where you performed it?" I asked.

Lu Gao hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "No. I just remember… darkness. Like it wasn't just a place, but something else."

I let out a breath. That wasn't helpful.

Still, this confirmed something important—Lu Gao hadn't just stumbled upon the demon. He had called it. Which meant that whatever mess he had landed in, it was of his own making. Whether he'd been tricked or not was another matter entirely. I sincerely hoped that was the case, but considering Jiang Zhen's claims of fighting a demon, then...

I glanced at Yue Ruo, who had been quietly observing our conversation. Her expression was unreadable, but I had no doubt she was filing away every piece of information she overheard.

For now, I had enough. I needed time to think.

"Alright," I said, pushing off the wall. "That's all for now."

Lu Gao looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn't push him. If his memories were blocked, then forcing it wouldn't do anything but frustrate him further.

Yue Ruo gave me a polite nod. "I appreciate your patience with him, young master."

I waved a hand lazily. "Not necessary, but thank you for taking care of him."