Immortal Paladin-Chapter 025 Betting Games

025 Betting Games

Fan Shi moved like a shadow, her sleeves fluttering as chains shot forth in a blur. The metallic links twisted and coiled, an unpredictable barrage seeking to ensnare Jia Yun.

Jia Yun, in contrast, wielded her fans with effortless grace. With a flick of her wrist, a gust of wind howled forth, repelling the chains and kicking up a swirl of dust. Fan Shi adjusted her stance, undeterred.

This wasn’t a battle of raw strength—it was speed against control, deception against precision.

I leaned forward slightly. These were the kinds of fights I enjoyed—where skill, not brute force, determined the victor.

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

“How about a wager?” Long Xieren’s tone carried an easy amusement.

Pan Xia didn’t even glance his way before responding, “There’s no need. Jia Yun will win.”

Long Xieren chuckled, rubbing his chin. “Such confidence… or is it mere favoritism?”

Pan Xia let out a slow sigh, fanning himself lazily. “Jia Yun stands at the Second Realm, Seventh Star. And Fan Shi?” He turned his gaze toward Chang Fan, arching a brow.

Chang Fan hesitated before clearing his throat. “Second Realm, Fourth Star… but she cultivates the path of consciousness—”

Pan Xia cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Even that Lu Gao brat from the Lu Clan surpasses her in cultivation. And the so-called Seven Grand Clans—” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Powerful backing, perhaps, but their foundations are shallow compared to our venerable sects. What is the Isolation Path Sect thinking, wasting effort on someone like her?”

I glanced at Chang Fan, noting the subtle tension in his jaw. He wasn’t in a position to refute Pan Xia outright, not without inviting trouble. But I saw what this was really about—Pan Xia wasn’t just casting doubt on Fan Shi’s chances. He was taking a jab at Lei Fen’s absence, questioning the wisdom of whoever had chosen to send Fan Shi into this match.

Sect politics were exhausting.

“Well,” I said, stretching lazily as I glanced toward the fight. “I wouldn’t count Fan Shi out just yet.” There was something undeniably satisfying about rooting for the underdog.

Pan Xia’s fan stilled mid-motion. “Oh?”

“She fights with unconventional methods,” I mused, watching as Fan Shi subtly shifted her footing, as if laying the groundwork for something unseen. “I mean… chains are an odd choice of weapon. Still you don’t make it to the quarterfinals without a few tricks up your sleeve.”

Long Xieren grinned. “Are you saying you’d wager on the Isolation Path Sect’s disciple, Daoist Da Wei?”

I shrugged. “I’m saying underestimating her might be a poor bet.”

Pan Xia chuckled. “How diplomatic.”

It wasn’t diplomacy—I just liked upsets.

Fan Shi’s chains lashed out in a deadly arc, but her opponent was already gone. Or so it seemed.

Illusions of Jia Yun flickered into existence, surrounding Fan Shi from all angles. They moved with ghostly elegance, their robes fluttering as they circled, silent as drifting phantoms. A vexing technique, reminiscent of the Doppelganger arts—difficult to fight against, even harder to predict.

Fan Shi wasted no time. With a flick of her wrists, she unlinked her chains, sending them sweeping outward in a ruthless wide-area attack. The links tore through the illusions, shattering them like ripples on water—but for every one that vanished, two more seemed to take its place.

Jia Yun’s strategy was clear. She would grind Fan Shi down, maintaining an untouchable presence while forcing her opponent to exhaust herself. If Fan Shi couldn’t adapt, she’d be buried beneath an endless tide of illusions.

Pan Xia clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk… If she continues like this…” He trailed off, letting the implication linger.

I glanced at Chang Fan. His expression remained polite, but tension lined his jaw, betraying his inner turmoil.

Alright. Conclusion reached, Pan Xia was a jerk.

Leaning toward Chang Fan, I murmured, “This is the quarterfinals, right? But from what I heard, there are only four contenders left. Shouldn’t this already be the semifinals?”

Chang Fan shook his head slightly. “Ah, the quarterfinals require each contender to duel all the others to gauge their strength. Only after that will the semifinals begin—a two-on-two match between the four finalists.”

He brightened a little, pleased to be helpful. Good for you, man.

I’d expected something more straightforward, but this wasn’t too complicated either. A round-robin with a twist.

Long Xieren, who had clearly been eavesdropping, chuckled. “Are there tournaments where you come from, Daoist Da Wei?”

Tournaments?

From Earth? Not really, unless you counted sports or esports.

From LLO? Plenty. PvP tournaments were a daily occurrence. Some were official, others were underground—fights for rare items, money, or just pride.

I shrugged. “There are… Sometimes for treasure, sometimes for fame, or—” I hesitated, shuddering slightly as an old memory surfaced. “—to prove a point.”

Long Xieren raised an eyebrow. “A point?”

I sighed. “Let’s just say I knew a fellow Daoist who took things too seriously.”

I could still picture the guy, standing atop a burning battlefield, declaring his conquest over the mortal realm. He’d insisted on roleplaying as a Demon Lord, even forming a cult-like following in-game.

A mage who’d watched too much anime, probably.

Last I heard, he got permanently banned for ‘disturbing the game’s balance.’ I hoped he was in a better place now—maybe terrorizing NPCs in another world.

Shaking off the memory, I turned my attention back to the fight.

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Fan Shi flicked her wrist, sending bolts of grayish starlight streaking toward Jia Yun. They cut through the air like silent arrows, their muted glow eerie against the bright arena.

I leaned forward. That technique looked suspiciously like something from the Psymancer Path in Lost Legends Online.

Jia Yun reacted instantly. With a flick of her fans, she conjured wind blades—razor-sharp crescents that shot forward, slicing through the air to intercept the incoming projectiles. The impact sent out bursts of displaced wind… yet the starlight bolts remained completely unaffected.

Oh no.

I hoped I was imagining things, but Fan Shi proved me wrong, following up with a sequence I knew all too well.

The psychic bolts struck Jia Yun directly.

Nothing happened.

Or at least, that’s what it looked like to the untrained eye.

Jia Yun hesitated, no doubt puzzled by the harmless impact. That brief moment of confusion was all Fan Shi needed. She surged forward, chains lashing out—only this time, they shimmered with that same grayish hue.

My eye twitched.

That was Mind Over Matter.

A technique that converted physical attacks into psychic and magical damage. A signature skill of hybrid spellblade builds—Magic Knights, basically.

And psychic damage? It had a 20% to 30% chance to stun, depending on the user’s mastery. With the stacking debuffs from Psychic Bolt, that probability increased by at least another 10%. Worse still, the damage wouldn’t just strike Jia Yun’s body—it would seep into her qi reserves.

Gosh… I was such a nerd.

It helped that I had a personal vendetta against Magic Knight builds.

The ones who thought they were clever for min-maxing magic and melee to become unstoppable tanks or DPS. Annoying to fight. Smug about their builds. And worst of all, they always acted like they’d invented the concept.

Ironically, those same players would accuse Paladins like me of moonlighting as Magic Knights.

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or irritated that Fan Shi had pulled it off—combining techniques that should have been unique to Lost Legends Online. For a brief moment, she dominated the fight.

But Jia Yun wasn’t finished.

Just as the chains closed in, her eyes glowed an icy blue.

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The air froze.

With a single flick of her fan, walls of frost materialized in an instant, blocking the incoming chains. Then, in the same motion, Jia Yun transformed the walls into jagged ice spires—deadly, spear-like formations lunging straight for Fan Shi.

Fan Shi barely flickered out of the way, her movement technique carrying her just beyond their reach.

Pan Xia, all too proud of himself, remarked, “See? That’s the difference in realms.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, sure, buddy. Keep flexing.

But despite appearances, I wasn’t convinced this match was over.

Something about Fan Shi’s fighting style gnawed at me.

The way she executed that combo… the way she weaved psychic and physical attacks together… it was too familiar.

Was she like me?

A transmigrator?

Did she come from the game?

A trickle of unease ran down my spine. If she were a fellow player, she would’ve tried confirming it by now. We all knew to check for allies in unfamiliar settings. Yet, she had never approached me, never shown any sign of recognition.

And she’d been watching me for a while.

She was there when I used Divine Word: Life on Gu Jie, back before I left her in Lei Fen’s care. Any experienced Lost Legends Online player would have recognized that skill at a glance.

Yet… nothing.

No reaction. No acknowledgment.

I frowned. Maybe she was an NPC?

No.

That didn’t explain anything.

I sighed, running through the possibilities. If she was a fellow player, there was only one way to know for sure.

A test.

I had never tried this before.

In Lost Legends Online, there was a game mechanic that let you send messages across distances—kind of like Voice Chat. It wasn’t like the mental transmission techniques of this world, but functionally, it was close enough.

I imagined the connection forming.

And then, I spoke.

"Fan Shi."

To my complete and utter shock—she reacted.

"Huh?"

Oh. Oh crap.

It worked.

What did it mean? Was she from… LLO too? No… I could be mistaken…

I swallowed my surprise, forcing my thoughts to stay measured. If she really was a transmigrator, I needed her to expose herself first.

I kept my tone even, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"This is me, David."

A pause.

Was she surprised? Unimpressed? Hard to tell. But she wasn’t distracted—Jia Yun’s attacks came fast, yet Fan Shi handled them with a steady, practiced grace.

It made sense. Mind Enlightenment cultivators processed thoughts faster than normal. The problem? Jia Yun could do the same.

Lying was bad. Shameful. But, again… I was dying of curiosity.

So I took the risk.

Keeping my tone casual, I continued:

"Elder Long Xieren suggested a bet between Sects. What do you think?"

Fan Shi’s response was immediate.

"I don’t care."

…Wow.

Pretty brazen.

If she was a fellow player, she either didn’t trust me or didn’t care to reveal herself. And if she wasn’t a player?

Then I just confirmed that, somehow, some way, game mechanics worked on her.

That was a problem.

A mystery.

And I hated loose ends.

My gaze flicked to Pan Xia, who idly waved his fan, looking utterly bored—as if this match was just a formality.

Fine. If I couldn’t get answers one way, I’d get them another.

I turned to him and said, "How about we talk about that bet?" Keeping my tone light, I added, "I feel like betting on an underdog."

More than just a casual wager, I needed to see more.

Did Fan Shi have more Mage-class abilities?

In Lost Legends Online, Mages had an infuriating number of skill paths. Even at low levels, they had at least four to a dozen spells. And if Fan Shi was anything like those players…

I wanted to know.

Pan Xia barely spared me a glance.

"It is a waste of time."

I smirked. Typical.

Without a word, I reached into my Item Box and retrieved a Phoenix Feather—an exquisite plume shimmering with gold and red hues, pulsing faintly with latent energy.

The moment I pulled it out, I knew I had their attention.

Phoenix Feathers weren’t just rare. They were legendary.

At least, here.

I had plenty stacked away, courtesy of my old habit of hoarding high-value loot. I had planned to sell them before I found myself in this world.

And they were only one type of treasure in my collection.

Of course, I couldn’t afford to show more than this. Flashing one treasure was intriguing. Flashing many? That was how you got robbed, assassinated, or worse—dragged into sect politics.

I twirled the feather between my fingers, letting it catch the light.

"What do you think about it?"

Silence.

Ren Jin and Long Xieren stiffened, their eyes locked onto the feather as if watching a dragon’s egg hatch before them.

Pan Xia hid his reaction well, his face masked behind his fan—but his fingers trembled. Just a little.

Only Chang Fan looked uneasy, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Pan Xia finally spoke.

"What’s the bet?"

I leaned back, smirking. "I will bet that Fan Shi wins."

A moment passed.

Then, Pan Xia reached into his robes and pulled out a small, black seed wreathed in eerie blue flames.

"This is a Qi Fire Seed—Nether Ghost Flames," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "It can refine and enchant mysterious metals. I’ll wager it on Jia Yun’s victory."

The blue flames flickered, casting long shadows against his pale fingers.

Not bad.

Long Xieren chuckled, withdrawing a dark, metallic slab that pulsed with barely contained heat.

"This is Molten Black Steel, refined from the burning blood of a Spiritual Beast," he said smoothly. "Since I suggested this bet, you don’t mind me joining, do you?"

He smirked.

"I’ll wager this—on Jia Yun winning in the next fifteen minutes."

Pan Xia frowned.

"I am not willing to share the rewards," he said coolly. "I’ll bet that Jia Yun wins in the next ten minutes."

He tapped his fan against his palm.

"The one closest to their bet takes all."

Before I could respond, Ren Jin reached into his sleeve and placed a delicate purple flower on the floating table between us. A faintly sweet scent drifted through the air.

"This is True Royal Divine," he announced. "A spiritual flower capable of temporarily raising one’s cultivation by an entire realm. If refined into a pill, it can even grant a permanent breakthrough—below the Sixth Stage, of course. It’s also a rare ingredient for restoring lost cultivation or empowering cultivators in dire moments."

The air grew heavy with expectation.

Then, Ren Jin smirked.

"I bet this all ends in a tie."

A tie?

I narrowed my eyes.

Did he know something I didn’t?

No—he had the referee in his payroll.

Ren Jin wouldn’t cheat, right?

…Hopefully.

Below, Fan Shi and Jia Yun clashed in a whirlwind of motion. Speed, precision, raw power.

It was time for some deception.

I reached out, focusing on Fan Shi from a distance. I activated Voice Chat.

"Fan Shi."

She flinched—mid-dodge. Still unused to it.

Good. That meant she wasn’t immune to surprise.

I kept my voice calm.

"The Sect has made a bet with the other Sects and City Governor Ren Jin."

A beat.

"If you win, you get to pick one treasure from the spoils."

A pause.

Then—ever so subtly—Fan Shi smiled.

That ought to motivate her.

Hey, I am a Paladin, but I could be scrupulous too.