Immortal Paladin-Chapter 007 A Bard for a Day

007 A Bard for a Day

The gathering of cultivators quickly lost its appeal. At first, watching them descend from the sky on flying swords, chariots, leaves, and clouds had been impressive, but the novelty faded fast. Their grand entrances earned hushed whispers and admiration, yet beneath all that spectacle, they were just more posturing elites.

I had no reason to care anymore beyond my interest.

So, I left.

The streets bustled with activity, a lively contrast to the stiff arrogance of the cultivators. As I wandered, a thought struck me—money. I had yet to grasp this world’s economy, but staying broke wasn’t an option. Gu Jie was supposed to handle funds, but it wouldn’t hurt to earn some myself. Besides, I needed something to pass the time.

An idea took shape—something simple.

I pulled a wooden crate and a bowl from my Item Box and set them down in a busy thoroughfare. Then, hopping onto the crate, I cleared my throat.

“Honored guests and passersby, lend me your ears!”

If I were going to make money, why not as a bard?

Music was a universal language. That had been true in my old world, and I doubted this world was any different.

Back in Lost Legends Online, players could choose a main class and a sub-class. Sub-classes weren’t for combat but instead focused on trade and knowledge. I had chosen Linguist—not out of scholarly interest, but because it made solving puzzles easier and gave me an edge in PvE.

Weird, right? After all, I loved PvP too much.

But the thing was sub-classes in LLO offered little to no edge when it came to direct combat.

The Linguist class granted the ability to understand any language, unlocking secret dialogues and ancient texts. It also improved speech, though it wasn’t as persuasive as the Diplomat class. Most importantly, it had a Translation skill—one that let me seamlessly convert words between languages.

Which meant I could take songs from Earth and make them sound as if they belonged here.

I wasn’t a Bard, but years of karaoke had given me enough confidence to hold a tune. And with the Linguist class’s speech bonus? I could make it sound good.

Maybe?

Nah… it was a harmless experiment at worst…

Taking a deep breath, I let the murmurs of the crowd settle. Then—

I sang.

The melody drifted through the air, smooth and poetic, as if the song had always existed in this world’s tongue. It was a classic from my past life—Freddie Mercury. If I were to do this, I was going to do it right.

At first, my voice cut through the noise like an unexpected breeze—soft, yet clear. A few heads turned, curious. Then, as I carried the melody with confidence, my voice swelled.

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

The words flowed effortlessly, shaped to fit this world’s language. The syllables landed with perfect cadence, as though the song had been born here.

People stopped.

First, a handful. Then, more.

A noblewoman paused mid-step, silk robes swaying as she tilted her head. A group of merchants near a tea stall leaned in. A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing at me with wide-eyed wonder.

I continued, my voice steady, my pacing measured.

“Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low…”

The marketplace quieted, the melody wrapping around them. A man in tattered robes—perhaps a wandering cultivator—nodded along, arms crossed, lips twitching in approval. A young woman in the flowing garb of a minor sect swayed slightly, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Then, the applause began.

At first, a few claps—hesitant, unsure. But as the chorus built, as my voice climbed with the intensity of the song, the energy shifted. Excitement rippled through the crowd. Some clapped to the beat. Others grinned, their faces alight with delight.

For a moment, in a world of swords and sects, music reigned supreme.

Yep, this was fun.

A bit aimless, but fun.

And then, the real proof of their appreciation—

Clink.

A coin landed in my bowl. Then another. And another.

I stole a glance mid-song and nearly smirked. My little wooden bowl, once empty, was steadily filling with silver and copper coins. A generous noble tossed in a gold coin, his lips quirking in amusement. A grizzled mercenary followed suit, flipping a coin with practiced ease.

“Now this is entertainment,” someone murmured.

“Who is he?” another asked.

“Some kind of wandering minstrel?”

“I’ve never heard this song before…”

“It’s incredible.”

I reached the climax of the song, pushing my voice to its limits. My Linguist speech bonus ensured my enunciation was crisp, every emotion laid bare in the melody. I wasn’t a professional singer, but years of karaoke had trained me well enough to stay on pitch.

The final note lingered in the air, stretching just long enough to let the moment settle.

Silence.

Then—thunderous applause.

Cheers, claps, even a few whistles. People beamed at me, eyes bright with excitement. Some nodded in approval, while others murmured animatedly about the performance. My wooden bowl was now respectably full—a testament to the fact that, for all their swords and cultivation techniques, even people from a vastly different world appreciated good music.

I exhaled, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Then, with a slight bow, I raised a hand for silence. The murmurs softened as the crowd leaned in, eager for what I would say next.

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“Thank you for listening,” I said smoothly, my voice carrying over the gathered people. “But credit where credit is due—this song is not my own.”

A ripple of intrigue spread through the audience.

“This piece was composed by a legendary bard from a distant land—his name was Freddie Mercury.” I let the name hang in the air, allowing the weight of it to settle. “Though he is no longer among us, his music lives on, transcending time and space.”

Some nodded solemnly, as if paying respects to a fellow artist. Others simply clapped again, moved by the sentiment.

I chuckled to myself. If only they knew just how distant a land I meant.

I had long since accepted that I was an outsider in this world. The laws of reality here were different, and so were the people. Power was determined by cultivation, status by lineage. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to despair. What good would it do?

This wasn’t a game anymore, but I still approached it like one. Like I said, it was difficult to curb bad habits. In the end, I could only move forward. Keep moving, keep adapting. Find the broken mechanics and exploit them. And, when things got overwhelming—find joy in the small victories.

Like turning a street performance into a profitable venture.

As the crowd dispersed, leaving behind their generous donations, another idea struck me.

Music was one way to captivate an audience, but it wasn’t the only way. Next time, I wouldn’t just sing—I’d tell a story.

Songs and tales both had power. And with my Linguist class, I could weave them seamlessly into this world’s language.

Stepping down from the crate, I pocketed my hard-earned coin with a satisfied grin.

“That was fun,” I murmured to myself.

I crouched down, scooped up the wooden bowl, and gave it a little shake. The clink-clink of silver and copper was music to my ears. Not a bad haul for an impromptu street performance.

With a flick of my wrist, I stashed the bowl, crate, and earnings into my Item Box. A relic from my time in Lost Legends Online—and far more useful in real life than I had ever imagined.

Now, I had money. And money meant I could finally eat properly.

The marketplace was still bustling. Stalls lined the streets, their colorful banners fluttering in the wind. The scent of roasted meats, spiced broths, and freshly baked buns filled the air, making my stomach growl in protest.

I took my time wandering past the vendors, watching as they skillfully worked their craft. A dumpling stand had a steady stream of customers, the cook deftly flipping steaming buns onto a tray. A noodle shop had a line stretching out the door, bowls of fragrant broth passed from hand to hand.

Eventually, I found a more traditional eatery—a simple wooden establishment with an open-air dining area. The smell of sizzling meat and frying garlic drifted from within.

Now this... this was the right choice.

Stepping inside, I found a seat by the window and waved over a server.

The moment my order was placed, I leaned back, letting my gaze wander over the eatery. It had a rustic charm—worn wooden tables, the chatter of travelers swapping tales, the rhythmic clack of chopsticks against bowls.

Soon, my food arrived.

A steaming bowl of braised pork noodles, the thick strands coated in a rich, savory broth. A side of pan-fried dumplings, their golden-brown exteriors crisp and glistening with oil. And to wash it all down, a cup of warm rice wine, its faint aroma carrying a subtle sweetness.

I wasted no time.

The first bite of noodles was divine. The broth—deep and flavorful—coated my tongue with its complex blend of soy, spices, and slow-cooked meat. The pork practically melted in my mouth, each bite a testament to hours of careful preparation.

The dumplings were just as satisfying. The moment I bit into one, hot juices burst forth, the crisp exterior giving way to the tender, well-seasoned filling.

A sip of rice wine. Warmth spread through my chest.

I exhaled, a satisfied sigh slipping past my lips.

“Damn,” I muttered. “This is good.”

It had been too long since I’d last enjoyed a meal like this.

Back in my past life, food had been an afterthought—a necessity rather than an experience. In Lost Legends Online, meals were nothing more than buffs, consumed for stat boosts rather than taste. But here? Here, food mattered. Of course, in a different context. In my case, I felt like I was filling my soul… sheesh… I missed home already.

Just as I was about to savor another bite, a familiar voice rang out from across the table.

“I finally found you!”

I looked up, chopsticks frozen mid-air.

Gu Jie plopped into the seat opposite me, yanking off her balaclava with a grin that practically radiated pride. Her sharp features were flushed with excitement as she dragged two heavy pouches onto the table.

They landed with a clink, heavy with coins.

“I finished the task, Senior!” she announced, chest puffed out.

I sighed. Of course.

Not even dusk yet, and I couldn’t get through one meal in peace.

I set my chopsticks down, leveling her with a flat look. “You know, there’s a time and place for business, and this”—I gestured at my half-eaten meal—"is neither.”

Gu Jie’s grin faltered. “Ah—right. My apologies, Senior! I didn’t mean to disturb your meal.”

She actually looked guilty.

Well, at least she had some self-awareness.

I sighed, leaning back. “Whatever. What’d you get?”

She perked up instantly, pushing the pouches toward me. “As you instructed, I have succeeded in the task you entrusted to me. I managed to exchange the treasure for local currency.” She puffed out her chest. “The people in the lower districts are surprisingly loose-lipped when given a few drinks. I’ve already picked up rumors about some underground dealings—”

I held up a hand. “That’s great and all, but can you at least let me eat first?”

“Oh! Right! Of course, Senior!”

She looked genuinely embarrassed this time, folding her hands in her lap like a scolded child.

I exhaled through my nose and waved over a server.

“What does my friend here want?” I asked, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s eat first, and then we talk.”

Gu Jie immediately stiffened, shaking her head. “No need! I don’t want to impose—”

“Not an option,” I cut in smoothly. “Either you eat with me, or I leave you to your devices.”

She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.

I could tell that despite all her posturing, she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of generosity. It made sense—this morning, she’d been a starving street thief. If she wanted to follow me, she’d have to get used to things like this.

After a moment of visible internal struggle, she relented.

“...I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she mumbled.

The server nodded and hurried off.

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. “Seriously, not even a full day since you tried to rob me, and you’re already this eager to please?”

Gu Jie ducked her head, fiddling with her sleeves. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d do anything for you, Senior. If you’ll have me, I’ll prove my worth.”

I didn’t respond right away.

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Instead, I picked up my chopsticks and resumed eating, letting her sit with her own thoughts.

When her food arrived, she hesitated again, staring at the steaming bowl as if it were some kind of rare treasure. I watched as she lifted a few strands of the braised pork noodles, blowing on them before taking a cautious bite.

The moment the flavor hit her tongue, her expression shifted. Her brows lifted ever so slightly, and though she didn’t make a sound, the way she took another bite immediately after spoke louder than any words.

I chuckled. “Good, isn’t it?”

She swallowed, nodded once, then returned to eating with newfound focus.

I turned my attention back to my own meal, savoring every bite.

The xianxia world certainly had its flaws—overly arrogant young masters, ridiculous cultivation rivalries, and an obsession with face—but I had to give credit where it was due. Their spices? Absolutely divine.

The broth was rich, infused with layers of flavor I couldn’t even begin to describe. It had a deep umami taste, but with an aromatic kick—probably some kind of spiritual herb added to enhance both taste and qi circulation. The pork, slow-braised to perfection, melted effortlessly on my tongue.

I took another bite, letting the warmth settle in my stomach. Even if my body didn’t need food as much anymore—thanks to stats improving my physical condition—good food was still good food. And unlike their inferior ale, which barely held a candle to the beers of my old world, the cuisine here was something I could actually appreciate.

I reached for my cup of rice wine, taking a careful sip. It was smooth, with a faint floral undertone. Not bad. Still not as good as a proper whiskey, but leagues better than the swill I’d been offered in the seedier taverns.

Gu Jie, meanwhile, had slowed down after inhaling half her bowl. She glanced at me, her expression oddly serious.

“I wanted to apologize, Senior.” She placed her chopsticks down, folding her hands in her lap. “For failing to follow instructions. You told me to meet you at dusk in the alley, but I…” She hesitated. “I got ahead of myself.”

I sighed, shaking my head.

“Nevermind that.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Just eat your darn food.”

Gu Jie blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not even going to scold me?”

“What’s the point?” I picked up another dumpling, biting into its crispy shell. “You already know you messed up, and you’re actually apologizing for it. That’s more than I can say for most people in this world.”

She lowered her gaze, mulling over my words for a moment before nodding. Then, without another word, she picked up her chopsticks and resumed eating.

For a while, we simply ate in companionable silence.

The marketplace hummed around us, the chatter of merchants and travelers filling the air. The faint scent of roasting meats and freshly baked pastries mixed with the lingering aroma of my meal.

I let out a content sigh, taking another sip of my wine.

Life wasn’t perfect.

But at least, for now, I had good food, decent company, and a pocket full of coin.

Could be worse.