Immortal Paladin-Chapter 078 Divine Flood Dragon

078 Divine Flood Dragon

Tao Long’s body convulsed as an unseen force clawed at his insides, ripping through his meridians like a thousand venomous needles burrowing into his flesh. His breath hitched, and a metallic tang filled his mouth—his own blood, welling up from deep within. The pink-haired Blood Demon’s curse was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"This vile sorcery—!" Tao Long’s voice was hoarse as he grit his teeth. He could feel the very foundation of his cultivation trembling. His internal energy surged in desperation, coiling around his dantian in layers of protective force, but the curse was relentless, gnawing away at his essence with a sinister, unseen hand.

A searing pain lanced through his limbs, as if countless phantoms were tearing at his soul. His once indomitable vitality, cultivated over centuries, now felt like a candle flickering in the wind. His meridians pulsed erratically, barely holding together under the relentless assault.

He staggered, falling to one knee atop the storm-ridden sky. “Damn it!” This was no ordinary hex. It was a malediction crafted from the very essence of resentment, its roots sinking deep into his karmic threads. If he did not suppress it soon, his cultivation might suffer irreparable damage.

Through the haze of agony, Tao Long lifted his gaze just in time to see the two women vanish into the void—space twisting and folding around them as they fled. The Buddhist Witch’s teleportation spell had activated just as the Blood Demon’s black beast dissolved into ashes.

Tao Long clenched his fists so tightly that his nails pierced his palms.

“They escaped!”

He let out a ragged breath, the storm around him responding to his fury with violent bursts of lightning. The mirage of the azure dragon behind him let out a silent roar, yet even its might could not purge the insidious energy slithering through his body.

"Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch…" Tao Long spat out each title with venom. He had fought countless foes in his lifetime—righteous cultivators, demonic beasts, even heretics who wielded the power of devils. But never had he suffered such humiliation. To be cursed so effortlessly, to watch them slip through his fingers like fleeting mist… it was intolerable.

His fingers wove a series of intricate hand seals, golden lightning crackling between them. He was no mere cultivator—his lineage was of the Celestial Azure Serpent, a proud descendant of the dragon race. His body was far more resilient than mortals, his soul tempered by tribulations few could endure.

Yet…

Even with all that, he had been powerless against the wicked spell.

Tao Long wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, his fingers trembling slightly from the lingering pain. A mere curse had forced him into such a pitiful state. The shame burned within him hotter than the lightning that coursed through his veins.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself into stillness. The storm continued to rage around him, but he no longer commanded it. For the first time in centuries, he had been wounded so severely that even the heavens refused to respond to his call.

Seating himself cross-legged in the air, he began to circulate his qi. His meridians were in shambles, his dantian quivering as it fought to retain its integrity. Had he been any weaker, had his cultivation been even a fraction lower, this curse would have crippled him permanently.

But he was Tao Long. A Divine Flood Dragon of the Azure Serpent Lineage.

With a single gesture, he inscribed a sigil in the air before him—the ancient character for Longevity (壽). The golden script pulsed with celestial energy, illuminating the dark clouds like a second sun. Another character followed, this one for Healing (癒), swirling in a slow orbit around him as he meditated.

His breath evened. His pulse steadied.

Tao Long possessed countless arts inherited from his powerful bloodline—he could summon storms with a whisper, manipulate the vast oceans with a flick of his fingers, and call down divine lightning upon his enemies. But among his many abilities, his healing arts were one of the most profound. With proper cultivation, they could mend flesh, rejuvenate the spirit, and extend longevity beyond mortal comprehension.

And yet…

Even after a dozen breaths, he felt the weight of the curse still pressing upon his soul. It clung to him like a shadow, a lingering taint that refused to be purified.

Unreasonable. Tao Long’s brows furrowed. A Blood Demon and a Buddhist Witch—an abominable pairing, yet their coordination had been near flawless. The Blood Demon had landed a devastating curse while the Buddhist Witch had provided the means of escape. “Even I could not react in time.”

The admission was bitter, but he did not deny it.

Slowly, he moved his fingers, but his limbs felt heavy—his body, once brimming with vitality, now sluggish and weighed down. His qi still circulated, but his movements were dulled, as though he had been bound by invisible chains.

A cold glint flickered in his eyes.

“The next time we meet, Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch… There will be no escape.”

As someone who had ascended to the Ninth Realm, Tao Long naturally possessed arrogance befitting his strength. But with his long life came countless battles, and this was not the first time he had found himself on the backfoot.

His mind drifted back to that battle.

The Heavenly Demon.

Even though that man had only been at the Eighth Realm, his sheer combat prowess had proven insurmountable. Tao Long had fought alongside two others—cultivators who stood at the peak of the world—and yet, even together, they had barely managed to match him, let alone subdue him.

The Virtuous King had suffered such grievous wounds in that battle that he was forced into closed-door cultivation, indefinitely sealing himself away to recover.

The Heavenly Sword, one of the greatest warriors of this era, had met an even worse fate. He had been thrown into a strange spatial distortion, cast into an unknown void by the Heavenly Demon’s unfathomable strength. His fate was still uncertain.

And Tao Long?

He alone had emerged from that battle relatively unscathed.

Not because he had been the strongest—no, that honor had gone to the Heavenly Sword in terms of raw offensive prowess—but because of his inborn vitality. As a Flood Dragon, his regenerative abilities far surpassed that of ordinary cultivators. Wounds that would have left others crippled for life were nothing more than minor setbacks to him.

The vivid sensation of that battle still lingered in his bones. The moment when that accursed man had drawn power from some unknown dimension, his entire presence shifting as if he had become something beyond mortal comprehension. That fight had been one of the hardest he had faced in the past millennia.

And yet, even then, he had not fallen.

Tao Long exhaled sharply, shaking away the memory. Now was not the time to dwell on past battles. He had prey to hunt.

Raising his hand, he channeled his qi into a tracking spell. Thin, glimmering threads of water formed in the air around him, dispersing into the wind. His Rain-Seeking Technique—a method of tracking through precipitation, covering vast distances but lacking precision. If he combined it with Lightning-Calling Sight, a technique requiring an elaborate ritual but providing pinpoint accuracy, he would be able to locate any target, no matter how well they hid.

At least, that was the theory.

Yet… he found nothing.

His expression darkened.

The curse he had cast upon them—the curse that ensured rain would always follow his prey—had been dispelled.

"Impossible…" Tao Long muttered, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

His rain had followed them even across dimensions before. For it to simply vanish meant that the Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch possessed means far beyond his initial estimation.

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Frustration coiled in Tao Long’s chest like a slumbering serpent roused from its rest. His lightning-calling spell had yielded nothing. The rain-seeking technique—his supposedly infallible method of tracking—had been broken. His prey had slipped from his grasp, and he had no means to pursue them.

A storm rumbled in his heart, but he forcefully suppressed it.

Instead, he reached into his storage ring and retrieved an ornate wooden disk, carved with intricate formations that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the formations, letting go of the disk as it hovered before him.

The air shimmered, distorting as if rippling water had swallowed the space above the disk. Then, from the mirage-like haze, an image of an elderly man took form.

Shouquan.

The leader of Ward.

A figure of immense wisdom and unwavering resolve, Shouquan’s long beard cascaded like a waterfall of silver, his sage-like eyes brimming with the weight of centuries. Though merely a projection, his presence carried an authority that few in this world could ignore.

“Tao Long.” Shouquan’s voice was calm yet firm, like the steady current of an ancient river. “Have you completed your task?”

Tao Long cupped his fists in salute. “This junior humbly reports failure. The Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch have eluded me.”

Shouquan’s gaze did not waver, nor did his expression betray any sign of disappointment. Instead, he sighed as if this was merely another piece in a long, frustrating game of weiqi.

“I see.” His voice carried a hint of resignation. “This would have been much easier if the Emperor had lent us his assistance.”

Tao Long’s frown deepened.

“The Emperor… rejected our invitation a long time ago already.”

Why would the Emperor involve himself with this matter at their request?

The Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire, the one who stood at the pinnacle of the world, had refused to lend his strength to Ward’s mission. A mission that should have been at the heart of every power’s concern.

Defending the world from the Outsiders.

“The arrogance of monarchs,” Tao Long said, his tone laced with restrained disdain. “To think he would turn a blind eye to the encroaching threat simply because it does not yet knock on his gates.”

Too bad.

Tao Long liked the Emperor enough that he used to think humans weren’t so bad.

Shouquan chuckled, though the sound was devoid of mirth. “The great factions are much the same—the Alliance, the Empire, the Temple, the Union—all with their own ambitions. They acknowledge the threat, yet they all believe themselves untouchable.”

“We will continue our work,” Shouquan declared, his voice resolute. “With or without the great powers of this world. Return to your work when you have recovered, Tao Long. If push comes to shove, the Grand Emperor would probably be able to handle it. After all, he has the Heavenly Eye. However, it was important you’d be there when that happens, so that you could help. Goes to show the importance of Ward and that he could trust us.”

Tao Long’s expression darkened as he pondered over Shouquan’s words.

The Grand Emperor was a man with too much pride in his bones, a monarch who dared to name himself the Final Emperor, as if declaring to the heavens themselves that after him, there would be none.

Arrogant, yes. But such arrogance was not without merit.

For he possessed the Heavenly Eye.

An innate gift that only appeared in times of great strife, the Heavenly Eye was a power that granted its wielder insight beyond mortal or immortal comprehension. It was said to see all things under the heavens, granting its user both prescience and divine authority.

And now, such a gift had manifested once more.

The last recorded wielder of the Heavenly Eye had appeared three thousand years ago.

Back then, Tao Long had been but a rough-edged youth, filled with reckless ambition and little concern for the great tides of history.

And yet, the fact that this power had reemerged after so long…

It spoke volumes.

Shouquan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Tao Long,” the elder’s mirage flickered slightly, but his presence remained commanding, “what is your assessment of these Outsiders?”

Tao Long exhaled, gathering his thoughts before answering.

“They are not natives,” he stated firmly. “Their cultivation methods are foreign, unlike any system known to us. Their energies do not align with the natural laws of our world.”

He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And then, there is the issue of the language barrier.”

Shouquan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That alone is telling. If they were mere wanderers from another continent, we would at least recognize some similarities in dialect. But if even our most ancient linguistic arts fail to decipher their tongue… then their origins truly lie beyond our realm.”

Tao Long nodded grimly.

Shouquan folded his arms behind his back. “And their strength?”

Tao Long’s fingers twitched slightly. He had no desire to admit the truth, but honesty was paramount in this situation.

“At least as strong as me,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Possibly stronger.”

Shouquan’s brows lifted slightly.

“Of course, making a direct comparison is difficult,” Tao Long continued. “Their cultivation system is entirely foreign. Their abilities do not follow the principles we know, and their techniques operate on an unfamiliar logic. However…”

His golden eyes gleamed with a solemn light.

“…one thing is clear: they are dangerous.”

Tao Long exhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts before he continued.

“Should we seek the Emperor’s assistance?” he asked, his voice calm but firm. “With the Heavenly Eye, he can perceive beyond time and space. If anyone could locate these Outsiders, it would be him.”

Shouquan did not answer immediately. Instead, he let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temple as though Tao Long’s words had only deepened the burdens weighing upon him.

“Tell me,” Shouquan said instead, his voice slow and deliberate. “Why do you think you were sent here, instead of the others?”

Tao Long fell silent.

Of course, he already knew the answer.

He prided himself on his skills, on his bloodline, on the vast arsenal of techniques at his disposal. But within the Ward, he was hardly the best tracker. There were others who surpassed him in divination, others who specialized in reading the flows of fate.

So why had he been the one deployed?

Because if it had been anyone else—the Emperor would have taken offense.

Tao Long’s lips pressed into a thin line.

The Grand Formation that encircled the Emperor’s domain was no ordinary barrier. It was an all-encompassing array, one that allowed him to perceive everything within his borders. Not even a speck of dust was beyond his awareness.

And yet, this same formation also forbade entry to powerful outsiders.

Unless they were born within his domain…

Or had gained his personal acknowledgment.

Tao Long had both.

A native of the Stormcall Continent, raised in his youth upon the lands of Riverfall Continent—his roots were tied to the Emperor’s domain. More importantly, he had once aided the Emperor himself in a time of great tribulation.

It had been a mere coincidence back then.

He had not known the young warrior struggling against insurmountable odds would one day rise to claim the greatest throne beneath the heavens.

But the Emperor had not forgotten.

“…I understand,” Tao Long finally said, inclining his head slightly.

Shouquan nodded. “The Emperor will not interfere. Not unless the balance of the world itself is at stake.” He folded his hands behind his back. “And even if he were willing… are you truly prepared to be in his debt?”

To owe the Emperor a favor—it was not a price one paid lightly.

“…No,” he admitted. “I am not.”

Shouquan offered a knowing smile. “Then continue your pursuit by your own means. Do not expect the Final Emperor to move for us.”

Tao Long gave a short nod, but Shouquan wasn’t finished.

“You must also ensure that the Ward’s presence in the Empire is recognized. If we are to be of any use in the coming calamitous events, the Emperor must see our worth.”

Tao Long frowned. “And how am I to do that?”

Shouquan exhaled. “Best case scenario? You kill the Outsiders.”

Tao Long’s lips thinned. That was obvious.

Shouquan continued, “At minimum, you must hinder them—stall their movements while ensuring civilian lives are not caught in the crossfire. And if possible, position the Heavenly Eye to its greatest advantage before the tragedy I foresaw comes to pass.”

Tao Long straightened. “A tragedy? Why are you saying this to me… just now?”

He didn’t mean any disrespect by his tone of voice, but Shouquan could be very secretive in his own way. Tao Long had expected no less, but it was hard getting used to.

Shouquan’s expression darkened.

“I have seen a rift opening,” he said gravely. “From within, undead and demons shall spill forth, a tide from the depths of hell itself.”

Tao Long clenched his jaw. He was no stranger to battle, nor to the horrors that lurked beyond the known world. But for such creatures to manifest within the Empire—

“…If disaster is inevitable,” he said carefully, “then shouldn’t we inform the Emperor? Better yet, shouldn’t he be the one to handle this?”

Shouquan let out a mirthless chuckle. “Do you truly think the Emperor does not already know?”

Tao Long stiffened.

“The Grand Emperor is ambitious,” Shouquan murmured. “You must consider the possibility that he has his own designs—that he seeks to capture these Outsiders rather than eliminate them. To take advantage of their presence.”

Tao Long’s brows furrowed.

“If he truly wanted to capture them,” he said, “then with his Heavenly Eye, wouldn’t he have done so already?”

Shouquan gave him a knowing look.

“If the Emperor would move, we would have known it by now,” Tao Long admitted, exhaling slowly.

Shouquan inclined his head. “Precisely. And yet, he remains silent.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

“…Why?” Tao Long finally asked.

Shouquan’s voice was calm, but heavy with meaning.

“Because his prescience precedes mine.”

Tao Long’s breath hitched.

“He has likely seen a different future, one where he does not need to act—one where he is confident in the outcome.”

Tao Long fell silent, digesting the implications.

If that was truly the case… then what was the point of him being here?

Shouquan seemed to read his thoughts.

“We still need his cooperation,” he said. “Or, better yet, his allegiance to the Ward.”

Tao Long exhaled through his nose.

This was not a mere chase anymore.

This was a test of worth—both for himself and for the Ward.

Shouquan’s expression was unreadable as he regarded Tao Long through the floating mirage. “What did the Outsiders look like?”

Tao Long exhaled slowly, recalling the details. “One had crimson eyes and pink hair, the other had emerald eyes and golden hair. The pink-haired woman wielded dark arts, while the blonde exuded a sacred aura—likely a Buddhist practitioner.”

Shouquan’s gaze darkened, but instead of concern, an odd look flickered across his face.

Tao Long raised a brow. “What is it?”

Shouquan shook his head. “They are not the ones who will bring calamity upon the Empire.”

Tao Long’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible.”

He had arrived in the Empire prepared—his first task had been to investigate all disturbances. Every trace, every rumor, every ripple in the vast ocean of the world’s Qi. The presence of two foreign entities with unusual cultivation methods had matched the profile of the Outsiders he sought perfectly. There was no mistake—these two were the ones.

And yet…

Shouquan sighed. “The Outsider who will bring tragedy upon the Empire… is not a woman.”

Tao Long frowned. “Then who is it?”

Shouquan gave him a long, almost pitying look.

“…A man.”

Tao Long waited, his patience thinning. “And?”

Shouquan’s lips parted.

“…And his fish.”

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A long silence stretched between them.

Tao Long blinked.

His expression remained composed, but his mind had come to a complete halt.

“…His what?”