Immortal Paladin-Chapter 017 The Orthodox Unorthodoxy

017 The Orthodox Unorthodoxy

We stepped beyond the archway, leaving the arena behind. The energy of the crowd still lingered—cheers, laughter, and the occasional groan from those who had wagered their entire purse on the wrong contender.

Gu Jie held the fishbowl close, her arms wrapped around it as if cradling a sacred relic. Inside, Ren Jingyi swam lazily, unbothered by the festival’s commotion.

"Master, shouldn’t we collect your winnings?" Gu Jie asked, quickening her pace to match mine.

I sighed. "Apparently, I am not a very good gambler."

She tilted her head. "Eh? You lost?"

There was something amusing about her reaction, as if she had truly expected me to win. Did she think I was some all-knowing sage? Dangerous. But if she wished to believe it, that wasn’t my fault. As a paladin, deception was unbecoming—but only if one was caught.

"I had a feeling Feng Yi would lose," I admitted. "Betting on the underdog felt like the right thing to do."

Gu Jie narrowed her eyes. "Master… do you know you have a strange sense of humor?"

I ignored her and changed the subject. "The Isolation Path Sect—what do you know of them?"

She hesitated. "They’re called the Orthodox Unorthodoxy. Unlike other righteous sects, their methods are... unconventional."

"Unconventional?"

She nodded. "They wield strange weapons—chains, wheel blades, implements few would call orthodox. Their sect specializes in hunting demons and those who cultivate demonic arts."

"Demon Hunters, then." That explained the chains.

"But that’s not all," she added. "Rumor has it they developed a technique that allows them to transpose demonic arts into non-demonic techniques."

That caught my attention. "Refining demonic techniques?"

"Yes. They purify them, reworking the foundations to suit righteous cultivators. But it is only a rumor."

"Hmm… intriguing." I fell into thought.

"Master?"

"Do they possess any sensory techniques? And if so, how refined?"

Gu Jie frowned. "None that I know of. Why?"

"I see…" I crossed my arms. "Fan Shi was able to glimpse a fraction of my strength, you know?"

Gu Jie blinked. "…What?"

"During the welcoming ceremony," I explained, "she nearly singled me out amid the masses of lesser cultivators and mortals." I studied her expression. "Curious, isn’t it?"

Her fingers curled tighter around the fishbowl, as if Ren Jingyi might offer some divine revelation.

"Master…" she said carefully, "just who are you?"

I smirked. "A good question."

A question that I often found myself asking when no one was looking.

The festival streets were alive—hawkers shouting over one another, street performers weaving through the crowds, the scent of sizzling meats and roasted nuts thick in the air. My stomach betrayed me with a low growl.

"Master, should we stop for a meal?" Gu Jie asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "Let’s find an eatery."

It didn’t take long. A modest establishment stood ahead, its open-air dining space covered by a tiled roof. Cultivators and festival-goers filled the tables, the air fragrant with broth and spice. My stomach growled again in approval.

I knew it was psychological at this point, but xianxia spices just hit differently.

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We chose a table near the edge, where we had a clear view of the bustling street. Gu Jie carefully placed Ren Jingyi’s fishbowl on the table, ensuring it wouldn’t tip over. Inside, the little goldfish swam in slow circles, utterly indifferent to the chaos around her.

A waiter approached, ready to take our orders.

Before anything else, I asked, "Do you have anything a goldfish might eat?"

The waiter blinked, clearly caught off guard. "A goldfish, sir?"

I gestured toward the fishbowl. "Yes, something for her."

"Uh… we have lettuce?"

That seemed safe enough. "That will do. And for us, I’ll have a bowl of beef noodle soup. Jie?"

"I’ll have the same," she said.

The waiter nodded and hurried off.

I leaned back slightly. "When is the next match?"

Gu Jie sat a little straighter. "Later this afternoon."

"And the contenders?"

"Young Master Lu Gao of the Road Clan will face Young Mistress Bai Ai of the White Clan."

I raised a brow. Lu Gao. I had heard his name more than once already I’m tired of hearing it.

The Road Clan was one of the Seven Grand Clans, their influence stretching across vast lands. Lu Gao was their famed young master—bold, overwhelming in battle, and the closest thing the Riverfall Continent have to a super star.

Bai Ai, on the other hand, was an unfamiliar name.

"This should be interesting," I mused. “Or maybe, I am just repeating myself.”

Gu Jie nodded. "It will be… interesting. Uuuh… I think?"

Come on, Gu Jie, you could try a little harder. I could use the hype.

I tapped my fingers against the table. "Tell me about the White Clan."

She folded her hands neatly in her lap, tilting her head in thought. "They are exorcists," she finally said. "A rigid and traditional lineage. They do not look kindly upon the Isolation Path Sect."

I arched a brow. "Why?"

"They detest the idea of the Orthodox Unorthodoxy," she explained. "The White Clan believes in absolute purity—righteous and demonic, good and evil, with no room for ambiguity. Meanwhile, the Isolation Path Sect… blurs those lines. They take demonic techniques and refine them into something righteous, a concept the White Clan finds abhorrent."

That tracked. The White Clan seemed like the type to salt the earth just to ensure nothing impure remained.

"And Bai Ai?" I asked.

Gu Jie hesitated. "I know little of her… other than the fact she is called an ice-cold beauty."

I snorted. "Of course."

Just then, the waiter returned. A steaming bowl of beef noodle soup was placed before me, the rich aroma of the broth stirring my appetite. Another bowl was set before Gu Jie, and finally, a small plate of crisp lettuce was placed in front of Ren Jingyi’s fishbowl.

Gu Jie immediately reached over, tearing off small bits of lettuce and dropping them into the water. Ren Jingyi nibbled at them, her tiny body giving a pleased little wiggle. A faint softness crossed Gu Jie’s expression as she watched.

Meanwhile, I picked up my chopsticks, stirred my soup, and took a slow sip of the broth. The warmth spread through me—deep, savory, with just the right hint of spice. It was the kind of meal that reminded a man that simple food, made with care, could be its own kind of luxury.

For a while, we ate in quiet contentment, the clamor of the festival fading into the background.

It was a bad habit to speak while eating, but watching Gu Jie, I found it difficult to hold my tongue.

I frowned.

She looked thinner than yesterday. To ordinary eyes, there was no difference—but my perception told me otherwise. The slight hollowness in her cheeks, the almost imperceptible sluggishness in her movements, the forced ease with which she carried herself. It was subtle. Too subtle for most to notice.

I set down my chopsticks. This wasn’t normal.

"How is your cultivation?" I asked.

"Terrible."

Blunt. Honest. Concerning.

I leaned back, narrowing my eyes. "You’re hiding something."

Gu Jie stiffened. A moment later, she lowered her head. "Forgive me, Master. I did not mean to deceive you."

"Then don’t." My voice came out sharper than I intended. I gestured at her. "Explain this. You look worse than yesterday. How is that even possible?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face before she sighed, as if resigning herself to the inevitable. "The cultivation technique I practice—Delayed Destiny of the Demonic Path—comes at a price. It allows me to suppress my Sixth Sense Misfortune bloodline ability, preventing the worst of the calamities that would have already taken my life."

I did not like where this was going.

"And the cost?"

She gripped her chopsticks a little tighter. "The technique preserves my fate by sacrificing my body. The longer I delay my misfortune, the more my health declines. Originally, it allowed me to misdirect disaster onto my foes by expending qi, but…" She hesitated. "Ever since I fell to the First Realm, I can no longer use it properly. Without sufficient qi, I now pay the price with my life force instead."

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple. "So what you’re telling me is… even if I heal you, you’ll just end up back in this miserable state?"

"Yes."

Damn.

So that was it.

That was why she clung to me.

Not just out of gratitude. Not just for protection. She wasn’t merely following me—she was waiting for me to notice.

And that angered me.

Not because she sought my help, but because she never asked. She chose to endure, playing this silent game, hoping I would eventually see through it. What if I hadn’t? What if I had simply ignored it?

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I tapped my fingers against the table, forcing down my frustration.

Healing her wasn’t the problem—healing was easy. But what came after? If her cultivation method continued to devour her, she would inevitably return to this state. Fixing her wasn’t just a matter of mending wounds. I needed to break the cycle.

But how?

I picked up my chopsticks again, staring into the broth as if it held the answer.

I’ll have to think on this.

For now…

I sighed. "You should have told me sooner, Jie."

She flinched. "I—"

I raised a hand, cutting her off. "We’ll figure something out. But first, eat. You need it more than I do."

She blinked, startled. For a brief moment, I saw something flicker across her expression—something close to relief. Then, slowly, she picked up her chopsticks.

I sighed again.

This woman is a handful.