Immortal Paladin-Chapter 016 Wind VS Chains

016 Wind VS Chains

The third day of the festival.

For me, barely my fourth day in this world.

Gu Jie walked beside me, cradling Ren Jingyi’s new home as if it were a sacred artifact. The fishbowl—a vessel large enough to fit a human head—was a fine purchase, complete with a wire attachment for carrying. If adjusted properly, I could even wear it like a bag.

I had spent good money on this.

Yet Gu Jie clutched it with both hands, her grip tight, knuckles white, as if she expected disaster at any moment. She had taken it upon herself as a trial. “Master, wait for me!”

Thus, our progress to the bleachers was slow.

I sighed. “Just let me carry—” I stopped. If I insisted, she would only become more obstinate. “You know what? Fine. From now on, she’s your responsibility.”

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

I still had little idea what she wanted from me, but she was no hindrance. If anything, having her around had proven useful.

We found seats among the crowd, waiting for the next matches to begin.

Today, the remaining eight contenders would fight for a place in the quarter-finals. Excitement buzzed through the air as people filled the stands, placing bets and arguing over favorites.

While the rest of the audience busied themselves with speculation, I had time to kill.

Reaching into my Item Box, I retrieved a book.

Gu Jie had brought me a stack just this morning, with promises of more to come in the next two days. I had not asked where she was getting them, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

This particular book chronicled the history of Yellow Dragon City.

Apparently, this place used to be a wasteland.

I skimmed through passages detailing its past. Among all the continents under the Empire’s rule, Riverfall had been the poorest. It explained why the Yellow Dragon Festival was treated like the grandest event of the year—entertainment was scarce, and the people had little else to look forward to.

There was little mention of the other continents. The author, it seemed, had been a migrant from Deepmoor, another Imperial territory.

It was only my second book, but so far, it was worth the read.

Beside me, Gu Jie sat rigid, securing the fishbowl on her lap. Ren Jingyi swam in lazy circles, oblivious to the tension in the air.

After a moment, Gu Jie turned to me, looking somewhat troubled. “Apologies, Master. I was unable to obtain tickets for all four matches.”

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

Tickets for watching the eight contenders’ matches had been sold separately. In total, there would be four bouts today, but Gu Jie had only managed to secure tickets for two. Considering how fierce the competition for seats had been, that was already an achievement.

“So, who’s competing?” I asked, flipping a page in my book, only half paying attention.

Gu Jie straightened, eager to report. “An Isolation Path disciple and Young Master Feng Yi of the Wind Clan.”

I hummed in thought.

“Not much is known about the Isolation Path disciple,” she continued. “The betting houses seem divided on the odds, so it may be a close match.”

"Place your bets! Place your bets! Feed the ballot while you still can!"

A booming voice echoed through the arena as attendants wove through the bleachers, distributing slips of paper. I caught one as it was handed my way. Betting, huh? That could be interesting.

All around me, spectators eagerly scrawled names onto their ballots, slipping in coins before folding them shut. Each slip bore a trace of qi before being collected—some kind of tamper-proofing, no doubt. The system seemed far more sophisticated than the crude bookie operations of my past life.

Below, the fighters had already taken their places.

"Welcome, honored guests, to the first bout of the quarterfinals!" The Enforcer serving as referee raised his arms, rousing the crowd. "On my left, Young Master Feng Yi of the Wind Clan! Renowned for their unparalleled wind arts and swordsmanship!"

Feng Yi smirked, brandishing his blade with practiced ease. His movements were fluid, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he executed an elegant flourish. The crowd roared its approval.

"And on my right—Fan Shi of the Isolation Path Sect!" The Enforcer gestured to the opposite side. "Famed for their self-mastery and enigmatic techniques!"

Fan Shi stood motionless. No flair, no theatrics—just silence. Clad in dark, unadorned robes, she seemed to blend into the shadows, her presence so muted it was almost unsettling.

I scrawled a name onto my ballot, slipped in a few gold pieces, and folded the paper shut before passing it to an attendant.

With a practiced touch, he infused it with a faint trace of qi before moving on.

"Final call! The betting period is closing!" Another attendant called out.

I watched as my slip was dropped into the box labeled Feng Yi.

Why Feng Yi? Simple. I liked betting on the underdog. It wasn’t about winning—it was about enjoying the game. And though I had a strong feeling Fan Shi was the stronger of the two, I stuck with my choice. If I was in it to win, I would have placed my bet on Fan Shi of course.

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“The betting is now closed!”

The way they ran gambling here intrigued me.

"Hey, Jie," I said, turning to Gu Jie, who was still cradling Ren Jingyi’s fishbowl with careful reverence.

"Yes, Master?" she replied, momentarily shifting her attention from the goldfish.

"This is my first time betting. How do they verify the winners?"

Gu Jie straightened, taking the question seriously. "The attendants inscribe your wager onto the slip. Then, the qi they use to mark it stores identifying details—your eyes, hair, height, even the color of your skin. It records finer distinctions too—freckles, scars, birthmarks. When you claim your winnings, they compare the stored qi imprint to your actual appearance. If they match, you receive your payout. Simple and foolproof."

Huh. So qi could store and transmit information at such a refined level.

I had always known qi could be used for combat, healing, and body reinforcement, but this… this was different. The implications intrigued me. If qi could serve as a medium for encoding details, could it be harnessed to record even more complex information? Messages? Techniques? Memories?

The thought was tempting. I almost wanted to experiment with my own mana to see if it possessed similar properties, but now was neither the time nor the place.

For now, I had a match to watch… and a bet I was probably about to lose.

Fan Shi stood at one end of the arena, a vision of chilling beauty. The kind of jade-like elegance that poets immortalized in verse—skin pale as untouched snow, sharp and unreadable features, dark eyes carrying an abyssal stillness.

Yet beneath that serene exterior, she coiled, like a viper lying in wait.

Chains slithered from her sleeves, dark and polished, winding like living serpents, their movements betraying a silent hunger. Even from my seat, I could feel it—the promise of violence. A suffocating pressure that prickled against my skin, whispering danger.

"Interesting…"

Across from her, Feng Yi crouched low, his stance steady, his movements practiced. His white and blue robes fluttered as the wind stirred in response, forming invisible currents around him, as if awaiting his command. He wielded his sword in a reverse grip, the blade gleaming under the sunlight. Confidence, not arrogance, settled in his gaze.

“Seriously? Reversed grip?”

The moment stretched, taut with anticipation.

Then, in a display of martial decorum, Fan Shi cupped her hand and performed a martial artist’s bow—measured, deliberate, unreadable.

Seeing this, Feng Yi returned the gesture, raising his free hand in respect before sinking back into his stance.

The Enforcer overseeing the match stepped forward, his voice carrying across the arena.

“Out of bounds results in defeat! Surrender is permitted! Victory is determined by first blood, incapacitation for three breaths, or rendering one’s opponent unable to continue!” His sharp gaze flickered between the two. “Contenders! Are you ready?!”

Fan Shi flicked her wrists. Her chains slithered up her arms, coiling around them like armored gauntlets. The sound—clink, clink, clink—rang ominously through the arena.

Across from her, Feng Yi shifted, his stance lowering, his grip adjusting. No more flourishes. No more display. Only focus.

The Enforcer raised his hand.

“FIGHT!”

Ah, hell… I was definitely losing this bet.

A memory resurfaced, striking me like a belated realization.

I knew I had seen her before.

Fan Shi—Isolation Path disciple. The same one from the first day of the festival. The one I had nearly locked eyes with.

Back then, I had the distinct sense that she had noticed something about me… but ultimately chose to ignore it. As if dismissing me as just another wandering cultivator, another face in the crowd.

And now, here she was.

“Oh man, and here I was hoping there would be more excitement.”

This fight might be more one-sided than I imagined.

Too late now. Well… it had been fun while it lasted.

The moment Feng Yi flickered forward—his form dissolving into a rushing gale, blade slicing through the air—I knew he had lost.

Because my high Perception stat showed me the truth.

His sword cleaved nothing. Just an afterimage.

Fan Shi had already moved.

She reappeared behind him, her chains slithering like living things. Feng Yi barely had time to register the shift before—

BANG!

A vicious upward kick struck his abdomen, lifting him off his feet like a ragdoll caught in a storm.

Fan Shi followed, ascending with effortless grace, her motion fluid as flowing ink. In midair, she maneuvered behind him, her speed unnatural—impossible for the average eye to track.

The formations in the arena helped lesser cultivators and mortals to see everything, though.

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“Why am I feeling a sense of Déjà vu?”

Something about this technique…

It felt familiar.

Where had I seen this before?

…No. Probably just my imagination.

Fan Shi twisted, her chains snapping forward, wrapping around Feng Yi’s limbs. They coiled, constricting like steel serpents, binding him completely.

He had no chance to counter.

Then, with a sharp spin—

She pile-drove him into the earth.

A tense silence followed.

Dust settled, revealing the aftermath.

Feng Yi lay embedded in the stone, limbs twisted at unnatural angles—unmoving. Either unconscious… or worse.

Fan Shi stood above him, untouched. Her expression remained unreadable as her chains slithered back into her sleeves, vanishing as if they had never moved at all.

The Enforcer wasted no time.

"FAN SHI OF THE ISOLATION PATH SECT IS VICTORIOUS!"

With equal urgency, he gestured for medics—or whatever the xianxia equivalent of them was.

Robed figures rushed onto the field, moving with practiced efficiency. They had the air of people who had seen far worse injuries than this. One knelt, pressing a hand to Feng Yi’s chest, qi flaring in a diagnostic technique. Another retrieved a small jade bottle—likely a potent healing elixir.

The crowd erupted.

Cheers, roars of triumph. The joyous cries of those who had won their bets, mixed with the groans of those whose money had just vanished into the ether. But even the losing crowd wasn’t disheartened—the sheer spectacle of the battle had swept them up. Excited murmurs filled the stands. Discussions of Fan Shi’s eerie movements. The sheer brutality of that final strike.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples.

“Welp.”

There went my money.

Losing sucked.

Not because I had any real attachment to Feng Yi, but because he could’ve at least put on a show.

If he had given up the initiative—just for a breath—if he had taken the time to study Fan Shi instead of rushing in… maybe, just maybe, he could’ve lasted longer.

But no. He went in blind, and she shut him down before he even got the chance to fight back.

I frowned, watching the medics work.

The gap between them wasn’t supposed to be that wide. I thought the match would last at least a few more exchanges—a proper clash, a bit of back-and-forth. Instead, it was over before the excitement even peaked.

Something wasn’t right.

I replayed the fight in my mind. The way she moved, the way her chains struck exactly where they needed to.

She never hesitated. Never probed. Never tested her opponent.

It was as if she already knew Feng Yi’s entire arsenal before the match even began.

I turned to Gu Jie. “You said not much was known about her, right?”

Gu Jie nodded. “That’s correct, Master. Fan Shi’s record is sparse. The Isolation Path cultivators rarely interact with others, and she only had one public fight before this one.”

That was weird. Too weird.

An unknown disciple, barely seen in combat, stepping onto the field and dismantling a known contender in mere breaths? Either she was a once-in-a-generation talent…

…Or she knew exactly how this battle would play out before it even started.

I looked back at the arena.

Fan Shi was already gone.

At some point, she had turned and left, vanishing into the inner tunnels of the coliseum like a shadow melting into the dark.

My gaze lingered on the spot she had last stood.

Something told me I’d be seeing her again.

And next time?

I wish she’d be the underdog.

Fan Shi had completely dominated that fight, but that only made me curious.

She’d fought from a position of strength, shutting down her opponent before he even had the chance to make a move. But what if the tables were turned? What if she was the underdog?

Could she claw her way back? Could she adapt when forced onto the backfoot?

I kind of wanted to see that.

A battle where she had to struggle, had to fight rather than simply execute.

“I think… I’m starting to see the real appeal of betting… The second-hand excitement is addicting...”