Immortal Paladin

016 Wind VS Chains

016 Wind VS Chains

The third day of the festival.

For me, barely my fourth day since arriving in this world.

Gu Jie walked beside me, clutching Ren Jingyi’s new home like it was a sacred artifact. I had managed to procure a new fishbowl—one the size of a human head, complete with a wire attachment that allowed for easy hand-carrying. If I adjusted the strap properly, I could even wear it like a bag.

I paid good money for this thing.

But right now, Gu Jie was the one carrying it, gripping the bottom as if she expected Ren Jingyi to spill out at any moment. Her knuckles were turning white.

She had taken it as a challenge. “Master, wait for me!”

Because of that, it took us a bit longer to walk from the entrance to the bleachers.

I sighed. “Just let me carry her—” I stopped myself. Gu Jie was too stubborn. If I insisted, she’d probably just double down. “You know what? Fine. From now on, she’s your responsibility.”

Gu Jie’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes, Master! I won’t fail you!”

I still had no idea what exactly Gu Jie wanted from me, but since she wasn’t being a nuisance, I let her be.

Follower or not, having a sidekick like her had been a big help.

We settled on the bleachers, waiting for today’s event to continue.

Today, the eight contenders would fight for a spot in the quarter-finals. The energy in the air was palpable, buzzing with excitement as people filled the seats, chattering about their favorite fighters. But while the rest of the audience was busy placing bets and making predictions, I had time to kill.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out a book.

Gu Jie had retrieved a sizable amount of them for me just this morning. According to her, I should expect even more the day after tomorrow. Honestly, I had no clue where she was getting these books from, and frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.@@@@

The book I was reading was a mundane history book about Yellow Dragon City.

Apparently, this place used to be a dump.

I flipped through the pages, skimming through passages about its past. In fact, among all the continents under the Empire’s rule, Riverfall had been the poorest. That explained why people here treated the Yellow Dragon Festival like the grandest event of the year—entertainment was scarce, and this was probably one of the few things people had to look forward to.

There wasn’t much information about the other continents, though. The book seemed to have been written by a migrant from a place called Deepmoor Continent, another territory of the Empire.

This was only my second book, and so far, so good.

Gu Jie sat beside me, staring at Ren Jingyi as she secured the fishbowl on her lap. The little goldfish swam in circles, completely unaware of the tension building around us.

After a moment, Gu Jie turned to me with an apologetic expression. “Apologies, Master. I was unable to procure you the tickets for all four fights.”

I glanced at her and shrugged. “That’s understandable.”

Tickets for the eight competing cultivators had been sold separately. In total, there would be four bouts today, but Gu Jie had only managed to get us tickets for two of them. Considering how hyped this part of the festival was, that was already an achievement.

“So, who’s showing?” I asked, turning a page in my book while keeping half an ear on her response.

Gu Jie perked up, eager to provide an answer. “An Isolation Path disciple and a Young Master Feng Yi of the Wind Clan.”

I hummed in thought.

“Not much is known about the Isolation Path disciple,” she continued. “I think it will be a close match, or at least that’s what the odds say in the gambling houses.”

“Out of bounds means defeat! Surrender is an option! Drawing first blood, rendering your foe immobile for three seconds, and general incapacitation means victory!” His gaze swept over both contenders. “Contenders! Are you ready?!”

Fan Shi whipped her chains, and they coiled around her arms like a pair of armored gauntlets. The sound they made—clink, clink, clink—echoed ominously in the arena. Across from her, Feng Yi turned his sword in his grip, holding it properly now, no more flourishes. His stance lowered, his body taut like a drawn bow.

The Enforcer raised his hand.

“FIGHT!”

Ah, shit... I was probably going to lose my bet.

A memory resurfaced, hitting me like a delayed realization. I knew I recognized her. Fan Shi was the same Isolation Path disciple from the first day of the festivale, the one I had almost made eye contact with. Back then, I had the distinct feeling she had noticed something in me, but ultimately chose to let it go—probably assuming I was just another ordinary guy.

My gut told me she wasn’t someone I should have bet against.

The moment Feng Yi flickered into a gust of wind and beheaded Fan Shi, I knew she had already won.

Because my high Perception stat told me the truth—Feng Yi had hit nothing. Just an afterimage.

Fan Shi reappeared just behind him. Her chains slithered like living things, and before Feng Yi could react, both his feet were ensnared. He barely had a moment to register what had happened before—

BANG!

A brutal upward kick struck his gut, lifting him into the air like a ragdoll.

Fan Shi burst upwards, matching his ascent with effortless grace. In midair, she maneuvered herself behind Feng Yi, moving almost too fast for the ordinary eye to follow.

Something about this combo looked familiar.

Where had I seen this before?

Nah. Must have been my imagination.

Fan Shi twisted in the air, her chains wrapping around Feng Yi’s limbs, tightening like constricting snakes. Completely bound, the Wind Clan Young Master had no chance to counter.

Then, with a sharp spin—

She pile-drove him into the ground.

A tense silence followed.

Slowly, the dust settled, revealing the aftermath of the match.

Feng Yi lay embedded in the arena floor, body twisted at an awkward angle, either unconscious or dead. Fan Shi stood above him, untouched, expression unreadable. Her chains slithered back under her sleeves as if they had never moved in the first place.

The Enforcer wasted no time. “FAN SHI OF THE ISOLATION PATH SECT IS VICTORIOUS!”

Then, with equal urgency, he called for medics—or whatever the xianxia equivalent of them was. Several robed figures rushed onto the field, moving with the efficiency of people who had seen far worse injuries than this.

The moment Fan Shi stepped away, the medics swarmed Feng Yi, checking his condition. One of them placed their hand on his chest, likely using some kind of diagnostic qi technique, while another fished out a small jade bottle—probably some kind of recovery elixir.

The crowd went haywire.

Some cheered for the spectacle. Others roared in triumph, celebrating their winnings from the bet. And some—probably those who had bet on Feng Yi—groaned in bitter defeat. But even among the losing crowd, the sheer hype of the battle had swept them along, and I could hear excited murmurs about Fan Shi’s techniques, her eerie movements, and the sheer brutality of that final slam.

I exhaled.

“Welp,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “There goes my money.”