Immortal Paladin-Chapter 168 Three Strikes, Strikes Again!

168 Three Strikes, Strikes Again!

Inside the Summit Hall, the air had curdled with tension. Yi Qiu’s mane of crimson hair rose like wildfire as if echoing the flare of his qi. Every breath he took radiated heat. His killing intent wasn’t something abstract… Instead, it was real, raw, and invasive. It clung to my skin like steam, tasted of scorched iron and blood, and made even the more seasoned cultivators shift in their seats. With a snarl that came more from beast than man, he raised a massive arm and swung. There was neither theatrics nor windup—just one clean, brutal arc of muscle and fury.

It struck my face before the audience could react. His aura, blazing red with combustion and dominance, hit me like the world’s angriest comet. My head jerked to the side, and the floor beneath us cratered instantly, lines of fractured stone webbing like lightning across the ground. The walls groaned, and dust rained down from the ceiling’s edges. I spat blood…just a bit… and took a moment to appreciate the sheer violence packed in that punch.

“Impressive.”

Not because of the damage it dealt, but because of what it failed to do.

“But… a bit lacking.”

Yi Qiu staggered back, cradling his now grotesquely mangled hand. I had TriDivine: Divine Flesh active, and I’d channeled Reflect with an edge of my Willpower carved into it. The return shock had been unforgiving. Bones weren’t just broken. Instead, they were folded in directions they shouldn’t have ever known. The hall fell quiet. No one moved. The silence was heavier than Yi Qiu’s punch.

I looked up at him and tilted my head, tasting the blood at the corner of my lip. “You’ve got two more strikes left in you,” I said, my voice was calm, level, and just loud enough to carry.

Tian En’s voice broke through the silence with a whip-crack edge. “Enough with this childishness!” Her sharp eyes cut toward Yi Qiu first, then to me. “Do either of you take this Summit for a playground?”

She turned more sharply, addressing the lion-man with a scowl. “You should’ve known better. He was baiting you.”

I raised a hand, mock-inviting. “We don’t have all day, big guy. Try the other cheek. Who knows? Maybe you’ll fix the symmetry. Ah, my face is symmetrical enough… yeah, as expected of my handsome self… Maybe, I don’t know? Unfix it?”

Tian En’s gaze shifted back to me, sharp as daggers now. “Do you think we’re fools? Is that it? You’re making a mockery of diplomacy.”

Before I could respond, she turned to Shouquan, standing quietly by his usual shadowy shimmer, and snapped, “Take care of your disciple before he gets himself annihilated.”

I waved a hand lazily, not letting her frame the narrative. “Don’t be mistaken. He’s not my Master. I’ve only ever had one kind of teacher… the kind willing to share their truth without demand.” That wasn't just for show. I meant it. I’d learned from uuuh… teachers vastly different from the context of this world.

Seeing that her words weren’t getting the effect she wanted, Tian En changed her tactic. She raised her voice again, this time laden with righteous indignation. “A full-powered strike from Yi Qiu could’ve leveled the entire fortress! This is where we’re hosting every sovereign power. One moment of reckless pride, and he nearly razed it all!”

Yi Qiu grunted, flexing the remnants of his hand like he didn’t quite believe it was his. “Then we’ll build another,” he replied with a savage grin, like a warlord amused by his own destruction.

Oh man, and here I thought the guys from the Union would be the unreasonable ones….

That ridiculous statement was too much for some of his own people. A few Martial Alliance representatives stirred in protest, but Yi Qiu glanced toward them, and whatever fire they’d summoned died with a whimper. No one spoke after that. It seemed strength… or the illusion of it… was all he needed to shut mouths.

I couldn’t help but scoff. The man fancied himself a pillar, but all I saw was a glorified thug with a badge. “You sure you’re the leader of the Martial Alliance? Nongmin might be manipulative, but at least he wears a crown like a man. You’re acting more like a dog off the leash. Ah, is that what happens when a dog doesn’t have a master?”

“I will bend you like you’ve never been bent before,” said Yi Qiu. “Grit your teeth for me, pretty boy.”

“Suit yourself,” Tian En said abruptly, tone clipped. With a wave of her hand, a brilliant lattice of light surged through the room’s edges, forming a dome-shaped barrier that hummed faintly. A second later, Shouquan added his own; his was quieter, but denser, like water made of glass folding over steel. They weren’t doing this for me. They were trying to contain Yi Qiu. And they were right to.

After all, my Reflect might accidentally kill him if he didn’t hold back.

"Come on, I'm bored already," I said as I offered him my other cheek, tapping it twice with a mockingly expectant look. "Maybe this side will give you better results?"

Yi Qiu didn’t take the bait this time. His crimson eyes narrowed, not with rage, but with calculation. “What was the issue you were going to raise?” he asked. His voice was low and deliberate. It was the kind of tone someone more level-headed would use.

“If you’re that curious,” I replied, stepping a little closer, “why don’t you put me in my place first?”

The words were a dare and a signal. My mana hadn’t settled since his first punch, and neither had his qi.

But instead of striking again, Yi Qiu tilted his head, his ruined hand already half-mended with whatever fast-healing technique he’d cultivated over the years. Then, to my surprise, he spoke with an odd glint in his eye. “I heard stories,” he began, “about unrest in the Empire. About how a mysterious outsider solved it with a mix of brains and audacity. Word was, he played a bigger role than the public knew in solving the said unrest.”

I scoffed, letting the corner of my mouth pull up slightly. “Huh. Smarter than you look.”

His grin returned, but this time without malice. “I might not look like it, but I’ve been lauded for my wisdom more than once. You don’t rule the Martial Alliance by strength alone. Brute force earns fear. But insight? That earns loyalty.”

That gave me pause. It wasn’t just bravado. There was depth beneath his fiery exterior, and I was starting to realize how little I truly knew about the other players at this table. I’d studied the ones from Nongmin’s visions… their faces, their powers, and their reputations… but studying wasn’t the same as knowing. I liked to learn more about my opposition, sure, but I didn’t have the luxury of time. There were too many fires to put out, and too many people depending on me. And this Summit? It had to happen.

I took a few slow steps forward until I was nearly face to chest with him. The man stood at least a head taller than me, so I had to crane my neck just to meet his gaze. But I didn’t look away. “You’re right,” I said. “I was involved in ending the turmoil. And since you brought it up, tell me… have you ever heard of the term Hell’s Gate?”

The shift in his expression was subtle but unmistakable. No smirk. No dismissive scoff. Just a quiet, thoughtful look as he processed the words. “So a new realm did open inside the Empire,” he said at last, his voice turning cold. “And the Emperor didn’t say a word to us.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t attack. He simply turned and began pacing in a slow, deliberate circle around the center of the hall, his voice rising with each step as he addressed the gathering of faction leaders and envoys watching in uneasy silence.

“This Grand Alliance of Powers,” he said, “was built on trust. On transparency! We share our knowledge, we share our resources… not just among ourselves, but with the lesser sects and border realms too. That’s the only way we all stay afloat in this ever-expanding madness of a world. Every century or so, a new realm is born. Sometimes small, sometimes vast, sometimes crawling with beasts or swarming with spirit mines. And so, every century, we gather. We discuss. We divide. We plan! This Summit was meant to give the powerless a voice, a fighting chance to carve out their place in the cruel landscape of cultivation.”

He stopped pacing, spinning on his heel to point a finger directly at me. “And what did the Emperor do? He skipped the Summit. He sent his lackey.”

A few whispers rippled through the room. I caught more than one glance aimed my way, some curious, others quietly seething.

Yi Qiu pressed on, voice low and deadly. “Tell me, lackey, where is the Emperor? Don’t lie. I know he was here. I exchanged greetings with him earlier. You can’t hide his aura from someone like me. So where did he go? Did he flee? From what?”

Two things. First, I was really, really glad I hadn’t introduced myself as Grand Marshal of the Grand Ascension Empire. If I had, that term “lackey” would’ve fit a little too well for comfort. Second, I wanted to hit this guy. Not out of anger, but out of sheer principle. Yi Qiu might’ve been smarter than he looked, but the way he twisted “Hell’s Gate” into a tidy new realm ripe for division made my skin crawl. He either didn’t understand what it really was… or worse, he did, and was spinning the narrative to rile up the audience.

Of course, I couldn’t punch him. He hadn’t given me permission, and I wasn’t suicidal, at least socially suicidal. So I figured I’d hit him with words instead and not rely too quickly on physical violence.

I opened my mouth, ready to launch a verbal assault that would’ve put any scholar-debater to shame… and then his fist landed on my face.

It was a sneak attack. Bastard.

The second his knuckles made contact with my cheek… yes, the same one he’d already punched earlier… Reflect activated. His hand crunched audibly, a satisfying twist of divine retaliation, bones cracking inward from the reversed force. But this time, I hadn’t braced. I hadn’t even expected it. My upper body was tough as nails, but my lower stance had been relaxed. As a result, my feet left the ground.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Normally, that kind of punch would’ve launched me into a wall. Maybe through it. But a maxed-out Paladin’s body wasn’t something to be underestimated. I twisted midair, shifted my weight, and flipped cleanly, landing with one palm pressed to the ground. The rest of the force I redirected into the marble, cracking it like glass beneath my feet as I landed back on my feet. A second crater formed, spiderwebbing outward with a resounding boom that rattled even the defensive barriers covering the hall... Tian En’s, Shouquan’s, and whatever formation master had reinforced the entire summit hall were nearly destroyed at that instant.

My jaw ached. It was stiff. But I could still talk, and that was all I needed.

Yi Qiu, meanwhile, healed his hand with practiced ease, looking as smug as someone who just got a rise out of a demonic tiger and lived to tell the tale. “So tell me,” he said to the room, waving his slowly mending hand like a conductor before an orchestra, “will we stand idle as the Empire hides entire realms from us? Realms that should be shared by all the powers of this world?”

He turned, gaze sweeping across the gathered sect leaders, generals, and envoys. “Knowing the Emperor’s gifts… his foresight, his cunning… do you really believe he stumbled upon this Hell’s Gate by chance? Or do you think he’s known how to create these opportunities from the start?”

I sighed internally. This guy was really going after Nongmin with a vengeance. It was almost comedic, considering how many timelines I’d seen where they were actual friends. Good friends, in fact. I remembered one where Nongmin was crying as Yi Qiu’s body collapsed beside him, sword through his chest. Another where Yi Qiu screamed my name as I beheaded Nongmin in a different lifetime. History… or multiverse history… was weird like that.

But here, in this timeline, in this present, he was going for blood.

The crowd was eating it up. Some nodded along. Some were already whispering amongst themselves, frowning in faux-concern. The Grand Ascension Empire was the newest heavyweight in the room, and all these older sects had been eyeing it with suspicion from the start. Jealousy, mostly. Yi Qiu wasn’t speaking out of righteous fury… he was maneuvering. Politicking! Keeping the Empire in check!

Unfortunately for him, his theory was completely off-base.

The reason for the Empire’s rise wasn’t some magical method to open realms. It was Nongmin. Or more specifically, Nongmin’s Heavenly Eye. A gift that let him see into countless possible futures and find the best path forward. Not just in battle, but in governance. In invention! In every area of life that mattered. With that kind of insight, how could he not create the best flying boats, the best weapons, and the best strategies? It wasn’t luck. It couldn't be easily surmised as just some cheat code.

It was vision… literal and metaphorical.

I sighed again and figured, well, screw it. If we were going to play this game, I might as well flip the board.

So I made chicken noises. “Bwak, bwak, bwak~!”

The whole room went silent, getting to experience my shamelessness for the first time. Even the flame orbs hovering above the summit floor seemed to dim slightly. It was impressive, honestly. I should do it more often.

Yi Qiu blinked, clearly unsure if he’d just heard what he thought he’d heard. “Excuse me?” he asked, brow twitching.

“You’re a chicken,” I said calmly. “Let’s get this over with. Hit me on the other cheek. If you land it and I don’t reflect it, I’ll kneel and be at your mercy. You win. But if you fail… if you can’t land it without breaking your own hand again… you say yes to my request. Deal?”

The room tensed again. There were people holding their breath. Someone near the back murmured, “Is he serious?”…as if I ever wasn’t.

Yi Qiu stared at me, then exhaled slowly and… waved it off.

“I give up,” he said. “Let’s just proceed with how to deal with the new realm.”

He turned and sat back down like I didn’t even exist.

"Ah, shit," I muttered under my breath, thinking how he just outsmarted me. "He is really smarter than he looks!"

It seemed my mischief and antics had finally met their match… beaten not by strength or cleverness, but by sheer, infuriating common sense. I had to admit, even if it burned my pride a little, Yi Qiu was formidable. Annoyingly so. The kind of formidable that didn’t need to shout or posture. He simply stood there with that face, the one that said ‘I’m too dignified to descend into your brand of madness,’ and that somehow made me want to break a chair over his head even more.

Still, I wasn’t too worried. The thing was, he had no choice. Sooner or later, he’d hit me a third time, and when he did, I’d get what I wanted. He just didn’t know it yet.

I clasped my hands behind my back and smiled politely, which, to anyone who knew me well, was a warning sign. “I suppose this is to be expected from someone who enjoys genocide and still manages to string along a coalition called the Martial Alliance, a group that supposedly advertises fairness and justice.”

The effect was immediate. One of Yi Qiu’s guards, a sword cultivator in a crisp red mantle, drew his blade and strode toward me like I’d just insulted his ancestor’s cooking.

“How dare you insult the Alliance Master! He is not even your equal! To deface the Alliance Master is to insult the entire Martial Alliance!”

Before I could even sigh, a silver gleam cut through the air. Tao Long appeared at my side, his spear, Drakon-Mar, pointed right at the guard’s throat.

“Get that stick out of my face, you nobody!” the guard snapped, voice shrill.

Tao Long’s voice dropped to a hiss, dangerously calm. “I’m saving your life. And possibly your honor, you dunce. You underestimate the pettiness of this man.”

“Oh, come on, Long,” I said, “you make me sound like some abominable villain.”

“Am I wrong?” he asked dryly.

I chuckled and turned back toward the dais. “You asked where the Emperor is, didn’t you? Why isn’t he here? He left… because of shame! That's why!”

That stirred the crowd with murmurs and disbelief, a few narrowed eyes from elders who should’ve known better looked at me as if I just said something impossible. The prideful and untouchable Nongmin left because of shame!

“Care to tell me the terms of the ancient agreement between the Three Great Factions?” I asked, my eyes landing on Tian En. “Since you seem to enjoy tradition so much.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tian En said coldly, waving her fan as if to dismiss a fly.

“Please,” Shouquan said, voice as heavy as iron, “tell us, Tian En.”

She turned toward him, eyes widening just slightly. “As one of the founding fathers of the Heavenly Temple, you should know the consequences of violating the Accord. Even the lad, Yi Qiu, impertinent as he is, knows how to respect the Accord and keep the truth to himself, for the reason that the consequences are too great!”

“You won’t like the other consequences either,” I said.

"You don't want this fight." She flicked her fan once more. Gravity surged, as though a mountain had settled on my shoulders. My knees didn’t buckle, but the floor beneath my boots cracked. "Is this the will of the Emperor? Does he wish to destroy the peace shared by the Great Factions that stand here? To what end? Care that I remind you that the reason the Empire can only become the Fourth Great Faction is because the Emperor adheres to the Accord?"

"You talk too much," I said plainly.

Tian En frowned at the sight of my nonchalant attitude.

"Not the result you expected, huh?" I teased her a bit. "How about you try harder?"

Tian En waved the fan again. This time, the stone floor cratered under me. But before she could gloat, her eyes widened… and she coughed, blood splattering her silk robes. She fell to one knee, trembling. The pressure vanished.

I exhaled and stepped forward. “Your attempt at intimidation backfired. Gravity wells don’t stack properly on Paladins. They’re like stubborn furniture. Move them once and they come back twice as heavy.”

Her veil-wearing guard rushed between us and knelt, arms wide. “Please, my lord. Mercy.”

I tilted my head. “Hmm. Let me think about it.” I raised my hand. “Nah.”

“No!” the guard shouted, throwing himself forward.

A golden light engulfed Tian En. Gasps rang out. But instead of shrieking in pain, Tian En’s breathing eased. Her wounds mended. Her complexion brightened.

“Great Cure,” I said. “See? I hit her back.”

Silence. Then stunned murmuring.

“I’m not like Nongmin,” I said, facing the hall. “And I’m not the Empire. So no, this isn't the will of the Empire. That means I have a different way of doing things, so listen carefully. I like to think I am a good guy. In the same breath, I like to think 'other people' are good guys too. If you fall into my good graces… even if you hit me in the face… I’ll show you the other cheek. Maybe even give you a third chance. And if you’re really bold, I’ll toss you a loaf of bread as a reward.”

Laughter rippled through the room. Nervous, but real.

“Of course,” I added with a grin, “if that loaf of bread just happens to be gold and it flattens you, well, whose fault is that? I was being generous. A mortal might have their whole life changed just by catching one. I must be insane, right?”

I turned to Yi Qiu. “But why go this far? Why repay ill intentions with kindness? Let’s just say, I believe in testing righteousness. Three chances. I think that’s fair. Generous, even.”

I stepped closer to Yi Qiu once more, continuing my provocation of him.

“So, what happens if someone uses their fourth chance to stab me in the back?”

Yi Qiu didn’t respond.

I smirked. “Care to find out? Or are you going to waste your third chance by saying nothing at all?”

The hall was silent again. And all eyes were on him.

In order for my idea of reformation work, I needed to flip at least one Great Faction here, and the Martial Alliance was the easiest for the simple reason that their principles and ideals were closer to the righteous mortal path...

Yi Qiu stood from his throne-like seat; his expression was unreadable, but his body language was direct. He rolled his shoulder with greater effort, bones clicking in an oddly casual rhythm, as though he were preparing for a light spar instead of the third and final strike of a deadly exchange. “Three strikes, is it?” he asked, his tone almost amused. "To think you seek death so eagerly, I must applaud."

I nodded slowly, watching every twitch of his expression. “Yes, three strikes,” I replied, not bothering to raise my voice, “but now, you only have one strike left.” I didn’t blink as I added, “This is your last chance. If you succeed, you kill the only witness willing to speak of the malice hidden behind this Summit. After that, the Grand Ascension Empire might very well drown beneath your collective judgment. Sanctions, warfare, blockades… whatever poetic justice the lot of you dream up.” I took a breath and grinned faintly. “I can already hear Nongmin cursing my name for putting him in that mess.”

I let the silence thicken before finishing, “But you won’t. You won’t kill me, Yi Qiu. You’ll fail. And when you do, I’ll get what I came here for.”

His fist came for me, faster, heavier, and crueler than before. It was coated in a thick layer of blackened qi, burning and condensed until it trembled with weight. The very air shrieked as it tore apart in the wake of that blow. Time dilated. The hall dimmed. I flared my mana, dragging every strand with sheer Willpower and gathering it into my hand. I caught the blow dead center with my palm, my body bracing, joints grinding against the impact. Pain tore through my wrist as heat and pressure ignited. Something cracked… I thought it might be one of my metacarpals… but I didn’t flinch.

Instead, I gripped his fist tighter.

“Righteous Reckoning,” I whispered, and my core pulsed.

A storm of divine energy erupted around us. The damage he’d caused was returned tenfold, refined by the skill’s strange sense of judgment. The skill didn’t just reflect… It punished. My mana surged violently into the next move, and I cast War Smite directly through the point of contact.

The effect was instantaneous.

My palm, enclosed in his fist, finally lets go.

The golden flare of War Smite slammed into Yi Qiu like the fury of a divine tribunal. The knockback was powerful enough that the force tore through his arm, shredding ligaments, snapping bones, and ripping flesh with a sickening sound. His body flew across the grand hall like a shattered comet, slamming into the far wall so hard that the reinforced barriers enclosing the chamber buckled and screamed before shattering completely. Cracks spidered through stone and sigil alike as Yi Qiu crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Yi Qiu's arm lay twisted beside him, mangled and useless. The Martial Alliance guards surged forward in panic, but none dared touch him, unsure if a second strike would rain down from the sky.

I stood still, my right hand shaking. Blood dripped from my torn palm. My body trembled, not from fear or fatigue, but from restraint. I could have killed him… but that wasn’t what I wanted.

“Ladies and gentlemen, behold… the result.”

I exhaled slowly and turned toward the rest of the crowd, whose expressions had turned from amusement and irritation to stunned, white-eyed silence. My voice rang out, calm but laced with steel.

“One chance, that’s what he got. Three chances, actually. I gave him every opportunity to prove his point. And now?” I gestured at the collapsed form of the Martial Alliance Master. “Now, we are going to talk.”