Immortal Paladin-Chapter 027 Divine Possession

027 Divine Possession

Jia Yun was winning.

Not just by a small margin—she was utterly overwhelming Fan Shi.

She was faster. Stronger.

Her three tails lashed through the air, her movements fluid as drifting mist, yet sharp as honed steel. With every flick of her wrist, her fans sent out slicing arcs of wind and shards of ice, each strike a seamless blend of elegance and lethality.

Fan Shi barely evaded each assault, her steps growing more frantic, her breath coming faster. She was struggling.

And that infuriated me.

I activated Voice Chat.

"Sidestep left, then pivot—she’s targeting your legs."

Fan Shi obeyed without hesitation, slipping past a crescent arc of wind that would have swept her footing from under her.

"Jump—now!"

She leaped an instant before an ice spear burst from the ground beneath her.

I exhaled, my mind sharpening.

This wasn't like a simple sparring match. Back in Lost Legends Online, reading an opponent’s attack pattern like this would have been nearly impossible. But here—where I could perceive everything at a superhuman capacity, where every fluctuation and shift sang a silent warning—I saw more than just movements.

I saw currents.

I saw intent.

I saw the flow of battle before it even unfolded.

In LLO, Divine Sense had been nothing more than a decorative skill, its description filled with flowery phrases about insight and foresight. A passive effect with no real use, except for marking hostiles in the mini map.

But here?

Here, as I refined my perception—tracing the unseen tides of energy, the tremors of power before they erupted—it had become something real.

And what I sensed from Pan Xia made me wary.

I did not confront him. Not yet.

Instead, I focused.

There was a link. A thin, veiled thread of energy connecting him to Jia Yun.

Her technique—this Bloodline Art—either did not entirely belong to her, or it required another’s hand to wield.

Could I be mistaken? Perhaps.

But the energy Pan Xia was feeding her was neither Qi nor Mana.

It was something else. Something foreign. Something I did not yet understand.

I knew this was my doing.

My volunteering on the bet, escalated this.

I had used this wager for my own ends, turning it into a test for Fan Shi. And now, because of that, she was being forced into a corner by Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia’s hidden trump card.

Could I call it unfair? Perhaps. But whether Jia Yun’s technique was truly against the rules was another matter entirely.

I sighed.

At the very least, I had to own up to my mistake—and make the most of this mess.

In Lost Legends Online, there were Ultimate Skills that players could never use—even if they met the requirements.

Not because they lacked proficiency.

Not because their stats were insufficient.

But because, sometimes, just sometimes, these skills demanded an energy cost beyond a player's natural limits. Unless they completed the right quests and prerequisites, those abilities remained forever out of reach.

Was this one of those cases?

Before I could ponder further, I caught Pan Xia watching me.

An amused smile played on his lips.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

“Is there a problem, Senior Da?” he asked smoothly. “If looks could kill, I would have died ten times over.”

I rolled my shoulders. “That’s an exaggeration.”

But my eyes never left him.

“That is a peculiar technique, though.”

His expression remained unchanged, but I caught it—a flicker in his gaze.

A brief flinch.

He masked it well.

Don’t worry, Pan Xia. I wasn’t planning to call you out.

Yet.

Or perhaps never—because, truth be told, I was feeling particularly vindictive today.

He played along, feigning ignorance.

“You must be referring to the battle below,” he said, gesturing toward the fight. “Bloodline Arts are rare, after all. The Nine-Tailed Fox Ascendance is a Secret Art—one that allows its wielder to borrow power from an Immortal Beast.”

Ah.

So it was akin to a Paladin or Priest summoning a deity into their vessel.

Interesting.

And terribly convenient.

Back in LLO, I had never pledged myself to a god.

No patrons. No divine blessings. No celestial sponsors.

Which meant no Divine Descent—the ultimate ability of a Paladin.

And because of that, my damage potential had always suffered.

For a good season or two, I was stuck at the bottom of the rankings.

Grinding skill points. Watching everyone else skyrocket with their Divine Descent builds.

I could’ve reset my skills. Rerolled a new character. Taken the easy way out.

But I didn’t.

Why?

Because I was waiting.

Patiently.

I had my eyes set on an upcoming class update for Paladins—one that would let me play exactly how I wanted to play.

You see, Lost Legends Online wasn’t exactly kind to old players. Resetting skill points was more painful than just deleting your character and starting fresh. Most players did just that. But me? I endured.

And then the update finally arrived.

The Divine Path of the Paladin Legacy.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

With it came a skill no one expected to be as utterly broken as it was.

A skill called Divine Possession.

At first, no one cared.

A skill that halved your stats in exchange for possessing another character—whether it was a Player, NPC, or even a random mob?

Yeah. Hard pass.

And then the devs made it worse.

If you learned Divine Possession, you were locked out of Divine Descent forever. No refunds. No take-backs. You were making a deal with the worst kind of devil. It was a bad game design.

And what did you get in return?

A possessed target buffed with half your stats. Shared control.

Which meant the other guy could resist while you were trying to use them.

Most players who tried it rage-quit on the spot.

But me?

I saw potential.

I took it into PvP.

I used it on my opponents.

And then—I attacked myself like a lunatic.

Because guess what?

Friendly fire was real.

And I had three resurrection ultimates.

So even if they self-destructed, I’d just come back.

And the worst part?

I’d spam their skills like a madman—burning all their mana, wasting their cooldowns, making their movements look like a drunk toddler was at the keyboard.

If I could’ve burned Ultimate Skills, it would’ve been outright busted. But even without that, it was enough.

It was warped.

It was effective.

And best of all?

No one could adapt.

Eventually, word spread.

More Paladins started copying my strategy.

Possession became the strongest crowd-control skill in the game.

Wasting skills became the ultimate troll move.

For a while, Paladins were meta.

And then—because the universe refuses to let me have nice things—the devs nerfed it into the ground.

Now, whenever a Paladin used Divine Possession, their real body stayed behind.

Vulnerable. Unmoving. Completely defenseless. And what happened next?

Everyone who had ever been salty about Paladins finally got their revenge.

For weeks, Paladins got deleted the moment they tried to possess someone.

Spam every ultimate on them? Yes.

Blow them up with overkill damage? Absolutely.

Make their existence a living hell? Without question.

So why was I rambling about all this?

Well…

Because I was about to screw someone over with Divine Possession.

In this situation, what was the best part about my signature move?

It had zero tells.

No glowing sigils. No flashy effects. No dramatic wind swirling around my feet.

Just a clean, silent transfer.

And right now, I was tempted.

I could use it on Jia Yun and make her lose in the dumbest way possible. The sheer schadenfreude of watching her humiliate herself? Enticing.

Or I could use it on Fan Shi—maximize her skill usage, abuse my stats, and show these cheating bastards who was really in charge.

But I was an adult.

And there was no need for anyone to lose face here.

Maybe—just maybe—this whole thing could be solved with… talking.

I smiled. “As expected of the Cloud Mist Sect. Truly a formidable force.”

Pan Xia huffed and turned away.

Divine Possession.

A sharp dip in my mana. A shift in my senses.

Suddenly, I was seeing myself from a third-person perspective—through Pan Xia’s eyes.

Then the shift continued, pulling me deeper.

I entered first-person perspective.

I blinked.

I was no longer in my own body.

Pan Xia’s mind tried to fight back, but I crushed his will with the sheer gap in our stats. Normally, this wouldn’t have been possible in Lost Legends Online—not unless I was vastly stronger.

Which, apparently, I was.

Even with my stats halved, I still outclassed this guy.

I subtly adjusted Pan Xia’s fan, angling it to cover my face while stealing a glance at my real body.

And I saw… me.

Standing there.

Looking back.

Smiling.

Huh?

Weird.

Shouldn’t my real body be motionless?

Then the other me—my original body—lifted a hand.

And reached out to me through Voice Chat.

‘…Greetings, My Lord.’

The voice was mechanical.

‘My name is David_69, your Holy Spirit.’

…

What the fuck?!

I almost lost composure right then and there.

I had too many questions.

Too many concerns.

But now wasn’t the time.

I shoved the growing pile of what the fucks to the back of my mind and addressed 69 through Voice Chat.

“We will talk another time. Protect us for now, and don’t act too suspiciously. More importantly, continue guiding Fan Shi in her fight. If you can’t, prioritize keeping her from getting seriously injured.”

If this Holy Spirit had my stats, then surely he could compute the optimal battle strategy for her, right?

There was a brief pause.

Then 69 replied—

‘I understand, My Lord.’

I exhaled.

I could only pray this dude wouldn’t suddenly betray me by throwing himself off the VIP balcony or something.

That would be… ugh.

“You look worried, Daoist Pan.”

Long Xieren’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I ignored him.

I didn’t have much in the way of acting skills, but… well, here goes nothing.

I couldn’t exactly summon tears on command, but surely, I could at least pretend to be a brooding sage—lost in contemplation of the vast mysteries of the world, not to be disturbed.

With a slow, measured exhale, I lowered my gaze and angled my fan slightly, casting a shadow over my face.Mysterious. Enigmatic. Tragic.

If anyone looked at me now, they’d think I was contemplating the weight of destiny itself.

But in reality?

I tapped into Voice Chat.

Inside Pan Xia’s head.

"What’s happening?! What did you do to me?! Who are you?!"

His panic hit me like a flood.

I took my time before responding, speaking with deliberate slowness—measured, patient. Like a celestial master gazing down upon the tribulations of a mere mortal struggling to comprehend the vastness of the heavens.

"Calm yourself, Daoist Pan," I murmured.

"Calm myself?! CALM MYSELF?! I CAN’T MOVE! I CAN’T USE MY QI! I CAN’T—"

"Shhh."

"DON’T ‘SHHH’ ME—"

"Shhhhhh."

That shut him up.

Good.

I kept my voice as tranquil as a still lake.

"Now, listen well. What you are experiencing… is but a mere glimpse of the immensity of heaven and earth."

"What does that even mean?! Who are you?!"

I let out a soft chuckle. Sage-like. Knowing. Infinitely patient.

"Who am I? Ah… That is a question many have asked. Few have received an answer."

"ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!"

"Daoist Pan, do you truly believe that the heavens revolve around you? That your struggles are unique? That you are beyond the reach of fate?"

"What are you—"

"Consider the sky above."

I sighed wistfully.

"It does not mourn when a storm is born, nor does it celebrate when the sun shines once more. It simply is—immovable, untouchable, unshaken by mortal concerns. The same is true of the great Dao."

Silence.

A long, stunned silence.

It was eighth-grader syndrome bullshit. Or maybe some dialogue I’d heard in a cutscene somewhere…

But meh.

I could practically hear the gears in his head grinding together, trying to decipher my words.

"What… what do you want from me?"

"Want?"

I exhaled, as though burdened by the weight of existence itself.

"Ah, Daoist Pan… You assume much."

Silence again.

Then, cautiously—

"Then why are you… in my mind?"

"Ah."

I sighed, wistful and distant.

"Why does the wind blow? Why do the stars shine? Why does the river flow ceaselessly toward the sea?"

"THAT DOESN’T ANSWER ANYTHING!"

"Doesn’t it?"

Another silence.

I could feel it now—the frustration. The despair. The helplessness.

Pan Xia was grasping for understanding—trying to ground himself in reality… only to realize the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Good.

Let him stew. Let him question. Let him doubt.

I smiled faintly, outwardly maintaining my brooding sage act as I continued my silent monologue inside his mind.

This was getting fun.

Too fun.

Meanwhile, Fan Shi was barely hanging on.

Jia Yun’s rampage had reached its peak—her movements were sharp, her attacks relentless, her power overwhelming.

Every time Fan Shi dodged, it was by a hair’s breadth. Every counterattack was met with force several times greater.

Yet, despite all that, Fan Shi endured.

Because 69 was far more capable than I’d given him credit for.

I had fought opponents twenty levels above me before—barely managing to eke out a victory.

But that was with items. With buffs, with potions, with some ridiculous game-breaking exploits that let me cheat the numbers.

This?

This was just raw skill.

And it was awesome.

I let out a quiet breath, keeping my posture still and composed—or rather, keeping Pan Xia’s posture still and composed.

My mind, however, was racing.

This was the first time I had seen Divine Possession work like this in real life.

If I had known it would be this effective, I would have used it sooner.

I had wanted to test it on Jiang Zhen, but he had forfeited too quickly.

No matter.

I turned Pan Xia’s head, making sure his gaze locked onto my real body, sitting across the way.

Inside his mind, Pan Xia—or rather, the part of him still aware that something was wrong—was losing his mind.

"RELEASE ME! I AM A GRAND ELDER OF THE CLOUD MIST—"

"Shh."

I silenced him through Voice Chat, my voice calm.

"Pan Xia," I continued, "I don’t like cheaters. I don’t like bullies. And I especially don’t like people who think they are above being fair."

Quite ironic, considering where I was sanding.

Pan Xia’s panic sharpened into pure terror.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about!" he tried to lie.

"You’re not stupid. You know exactly what I’m talking about."

He couldn’t respond.

I let the silence drag. Let him stew in it.

"This will be my only warning to you. While your reputation remains intact, I suggest you no longer stray from the righteous path."

And with a thought—

Snap.

I severed the energy connection he had tied to Jia Yun.

Immediately, the transformation below unraveled.

Jia Yun’s body convulsed mid-attack. Her nine-tailed fox form flickered, the blue flames and icy mist dissipating in an instant.

Her expression twisted—first in confusion, then horror.

Then, her body gave out.

With a dull thud, Jia Yun collapsed onto the arena floor, unconscious.

Fan Shi stood over her, victorious—but barely.

Her body swayed slightly, her breathing ragged… but she remained on her feet.

And then—

I left Pan Xia’s body.

I blinked.

Suddenly, I was back in my own first-person perspective, my hands resting where I had left them.

Across from me, Pan Xia sat frozen.

His face had gone pale.

His lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something—but no words came out.

Instead, he turned his head ever so slightly, glancing around, as if searching for something.

Good.

I had gone to great lengths to save him face.

Hopefully, he heard my warning loud and clear.

But knowing the xianxia genre…

I really couldn’t let my guard down.

Chances were, he didn’t even know it was me.

If he suspected, he’d never dare try to confirm it or confront me.

If he did, it would probably be with the backing of his Sect— which I doubted he would have.

After all, I basically had the backing of the Isolation Path Sect.

…In name only.

That said, Pan Xia would also need solid evidence of what I just did.

And there was no premise for him making trouble.

No excuse.

Because everything that happened…

Happened in his mind.