Immortal Paladin-Chapter 082 Amen

082 Amen

"Be gentle with them," His Lordship said.

The moment those words faded, Dave’s clunky Puppet Armor reappeared on the idle Floating Dragon. The swap was complete—His Lordship had taken his place elsewhere, leaving Dave to deal with the bandits below.

With a mere thought, a longsword materialized in his grip, its gleaming edge a testament to his innate abilities as a Holy Spirit. He flexed his fingers, testing the feel of his new body. This Puppet Armor—crafted with the magic of this world—was still unfamiliar, its weight and movements different from his previous form. There had been no real combat to test it yet. That would change now.

Dave stepped forward and leaped off the Floating Dragon.

The wind howled past him as he descended, the earth rushing up to meet him. When he landed, a cloud of dust billowed beneath his boots, spreading outward in a ring. The impact sent a tremor through the ground, enough to draw every pair of eyes in his direction.

He could feel their gazes—some wary, some dismissive. His presence was something unnatural to this world, but he had learned how to suppress it. With careful control, he adjusted his aura, settling it at the same level as the strongest among them. No need to scare them too much.

A man stepped forward. He was calm and measured—his posture relaxed, but not careless. A man who had seen his share of battles and had the confidence to show it. His eyes flickered over Dave’s form with quiet intensity.

"I am Deng Bai," the man introduced himself. His tone carried authority, the kind born from strength rather than mere bravado.

Dave considered him for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Dai Fu."

He followed His Lordship’s instructions zealously. Adapting to this world’s vernacular was a form of defense, a way to obscure their origins in this world vastly different from their own. The name was close enough to the one he was granted, yet unfamiliar enough to blend in.

Deng Bai’s gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer before he smirked. "You move strangely, Dai Fu. Heavy, yet light. Are you a cultivator?"

Dave tilted his head. "Something like that."

"Hah~! Of course, you are..." Deng Bai’s smirk deepened, his fingers flexing slightly. There was no mistaking it—he was ready to test him. "I am sorry, but I will be taking that ship."

Dave shifted his stance, feeling the weight of his new body, the energy flowing through it. This was what he needed—a real fight to measure his limits.

Deng Bai exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. “This is your last chance.”

The bandits around him tensed, hands inching toward weapons, eyes narrowing with anticipation. The air between them hung heavy, crackling with the restrained energy of battle yet to begin.

Dave tilted his head, considering the words. Then, after a moment, he responded, “It’s your last chance too.” His voice was devoid of arrogance, merely stating a fact.

His fingers flexed slightly around his conjured longsword. “I might accidentally kill you all,” he added, almost apologetically. “It’s difficult for me to hold back.”

The bandits scoffed. Some outright laughed. One of them, a burly man with a jagged scar down his cheek, sneered, “Big words for a walking pile of metal. I bet you move slow, because of that thing.”

Dave ignored them. His Divine Sense spread outward like an unseen wave, sweeping through the battlefield. Twenty-eight bandits. Yet, at a glance, only twenty-two stood before him. Six others were hidden—scattered within the vegetation, their auras faint but not imperceptible. And one of them…

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Without hesitation, Dave’s left hand slammed downward.

A loud crack echoed as his fingers punched through the ground, stone and soil parting beneath his force. His hand found flesh, grasping something warm and struggling.

A choked gasp escaped as Dave dragged a man up from the dirt—a cultivator, his body wreathed in faint, rippling distortions. A Spirit Mystery realm expert.

Cultivators at that stage always had unique abilities. If it were His Lordship here, he would’ve been curious to see what exactly made them special. But this was not a time for experimentation.

The Spirit Mystery cultivator barely had time to gasp before Dave’s fingers tightened around his throat. Without giving the enemy a chance to react, Dave surged forward, using the man as a human shield.

“Attack!” Deng Bai’s command rang through the night.

The bandits reacted instantly. Those capable of casting elemental projectiles raised their Qi, channeling fire, wind, and lightning into their palms. Spells flared, ready to be unleashed—

Too slow.

By the time their spells ignited, Dave was already among them.

He discarded his longsword, letting it fade into motes of light, and conjured a spear instead. With a fluid motion, he drove the weapon straight through his human shield’s abdomen.

The spear did not stop.

With sheer force, Dave hurled the impaled body forward. The momentum carried both weapon and corpse into the ranks of the waiting bandits. The Spirit Mystery cultivator’s body crashed through their line like a boulder through reeds.

Four men were caught in the trajectory—

Two Mind Enlightenment cultivators.One Martial Tempering cultivator.One Will Reinforcement cultivator.The result? A bandit kebab.

The spear drove through all four bodies, pinning them together in a grotesque display. The brief, stunned silence that followed was broken only by the wet, sickening sounds of bodies slumping to the ground.

Then, as the spear vanished into motes of light, Dave summoned a great axe in its place.

His grip tightened around the haft. His gaze swept over the remaining bandits.

Softly, barely above a whisper, he murmured—

“…I am sorry.”

How many were left?

A quick mental calculation—thirteen Martial Tempering, five Mind Enlightenment, four Will Reinforcement, and one Soul Recognition.

Twenty-two in total.

Deng Bai, standing at the forefront, brandished his sword, the blade humming with an ominous light. His expression darkened as he took a deep breath, his Qi surging around him.

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“Kill him!” he bellowed.

Without hesitation, the bandits moved as one.

Deng Bai himself vanished, his body dissolving into a flurry of yellow blossoms—a movement technique so swift that he seemed to flicker between the petals.

“You are courting death!” he roared, his voice bloodthirsty, laced with killing intent.

His blade arced toward Dave’s neck. A fatal strike.

But Dave did not flinch.

He simply reached out—and caught Deng Bai’s throat mid-air.

The momentum of the bandit leader’s attack was instantly halted, his body jerking to a stop with a sharp, strangled sound. His fingers spasmed around his sword, eyes widening in disbelief.

Dave tilted his head. “You are too slow.”

Then, he slammed Deng Bai into the ground.

The force of the impact shattered the earth, sending cracks rippling outward like a spiderweb. A dull thud echoed through the battlefield as Deng Bai’s body crumpled into the dirt.

Dead? Alive? Dave couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

He exhaled internally. This was disappointing.

He had wanted to test the spell formations embedded within his blue cape, to see if they had any practical use in real combat. But his opponents…

They were not a good benchmark.

Dave finally let out a real presence—but not his own.

Instead, he allowed the Puppet Armor’s aura to emerge, its strength settling at approximately the Seventh Realm.

The effect was instantaneous.

A ripple of fear passed through the remaining bandits. Their once-determined expressions crumbled, their knees buckling under the weight of the pressure.

One by one, they let go of their weapons.

Swords and spears clattered to the ground as cultivators dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the dirt in submission.

Only the remaining Will Reinforcement cultivators—those still hidden—made a desperate decision.

They ran.

Dave glanced at the great axe in his grip—the weapon he hadn’t even used. With a thought, it dissolved into motes of golden light.

In its place, he conjured a great bow, its massive frame shimmering with a faint divine glow. He had no arrows—he didn’t need any.

The remaining Will Reinforcement cultivators were still running.

"It's futile," he said, "None of you are going anywhere."

Dave spread his Divine Sense, sweeping across the battlefield. There they were.

With fluid precision, he pulled back the bowstring, forming a radiant arrow of energy.

Thwip!

The first arrow pierced through a fleeing bandit’s knee. A scream tore through the night.

Without pause, Dave nocked another arrow.

Thwip!

The second bandit collapsed, each arrow lodged in both his knee and shoulder.

Then the third arrow.

The fourth arrow.

The eighth arrow.

Eight arrows. Four fallen bandits.

Each one now writhed on the ground, clutching their wounds, unable to continue their escape. Dave dismissed the bow, letting it fade from existence.

He turned his gaze upward and called out, “Lu Gao, throw a rope.”

Silence.

Lu Gao and Hei Mao were still on the Floating Dragon, staring down in sheer disbelief. Their faces were frozen somewhere between awe and shock.

Dave tilted his head. Did they not hear him?

Lu Gao shook himself out of it first. Without hesitation, he grabbed a roll’s worth of rope and dropped it over the side.

The rope unraveled down, swaying gently in the wind.

Dave stepped over to Deng Bai’s motionless body. The bandit leader still wasn’t moving. Was he dead?

Dave placed a hand over his chest and cast Great Cure.

A soft golden glow enveloped Deng Bai, sinking into his body. Surprisingly, it worked.

His wounds sealed. His breath evened out. His eyes fluttered open.

Without a word, Dave grabbed the rope and tied him up.

Then, he turned to one of the Mind Enlightenment cultivators who had surrendered.

“You,” Dave said, pointing at him. “Tie yourself to the rope. Then pass it to the next person.”

The bandit blinked rapidly, his expression flabbergasted.

One after another, the bandits fell in line, securing themselves to the rope.

Motivated not by loyalty, nor by hope—

But by the real possibility of death.

Dave walked toward the spot where the bandit kebab had once stood.

Now, the bodies sprawled lifelessly on the earth, no longer skewered together. The spear was gone, vanished with the rest of his conjured weapons, leaving only blood-stained soil behind.

He crouched down and placed a hand over them, casting Great Cure.

A faint golden light spread over their broken forms, seeping into their wounds. Seconds passed.

Only one of them stirred.

The Spirit Mystery cultivator.

Dave tilted his head, surprised. He had assumed they were all dead, yet this one still clung to life. Impressive vitality.

His Lordship would probably feel conflicted seeing people he had indirectly killed. Of course, killing wrongdoers wasn't beneath Dave. It was tasteless killing weaklings though... Still... If there was a way to avoid unnecessary deaths, it was better to take that path with hopes of redeeming the individual. However, sometimes, there was just no helping it.

Dave reached down and grabbed the unconscious Spirit Mystery cultivator, dragging him toward the rope. With practiced ease, he secured him tightly alongside Deng Bai.

Next, Dave turned to the four Will Reinforcement cultivators who had tried to escape earlier. They still lay on the ground, clutching their injured limbs, too weak to move properly.

One by one, Dave dragged them to the rope, tying them up as well.

He glanced at his work. The bindings were pointless.

If any of them truly wanted to break free, the rope alone wouldn’t stop them. Their cultivation levels made such restraints laughable.

However...

Dave was here

That was enough.

None of them dared to try anything.

The air was still thick with the scent of blood.

Gu Jie, as graceful as she usually was, now struggled clumsily with the weight of the aquarium, her arms wrapped awkwardly around its glass walls. Inside, Ren Jingyi swam in slow circles, her tail flicking in agitation as water sloshed over the rim with every step.

Ren Xun trailed behind, glancing around with wide eyes at the aftermath of the battle.

And His Lordship—

His gaze swept over the scene. Over the brutalized cultivators. Over the ones still groaning in pain, tied together by a rope that was more symbolic than anything. Over the lifeless bodies still strewn across the battlefield.

Dave turned to him.

“My Lord, permission to use my Divine Word—Raise.”

His Lordship’s expression remained unreadable. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

Dave didn't expect such a reaction. But still…

He had thought His Lordship might at least consider using one of his consumable resurrection items. Yet, after a moment of silence, His Lordship only spoke a single command.

“Let's bury them.”

Dave watched him for a long moment.

It was hard to tell what His Lord was thinking, but Dave had seen the hesitation—the smallest flicker of something buried deep in his expression.

Regret? Resignation? Something else?

If His Lord had wanted, the dead men and women could have been restored to life. Yet, in the end, he chose not to.

Dave reached out, gently stopping him before he could move forward.

“Allow me.”

His Lordship glanced at him, then nodded.

“Thank you.”

He did not say anything else. Instead, he simply stood there, watching.

Dave might not have known His Lord’s story, nor the kind of life he had led before arriving in this world.

But he understood the emotions coursing through His Lord’s heart.

Perhaps, out of everyone, Dave was the closest to truly understanding His Lordship.

And yet—

At the same time, he couldn’t.

Because Dave lived for the fight.

He had taken many lives before.

And no matter how much he tried to understand, there would always be a chasm between them.

The dead were buried.

There were no words spoken over their graves, no incense burned in their memory. Just the cold, silent weight of the earth settling over their bodies, marking the end of their existence.

After the dead were buried, Dave and Ren Xun left, guiding the prisoners toward the nearest city. The journey was uneventful.

The handover was swift.

Authorities took one look at the battered, broken cultivators—some still groaning, others staring blankly at the ground in silent resignation—and didn’t ask too many questions.

With their task complete, they left.

The Floating Dragon rose into the sky, drifting like a ghostly vessel above the landscape before shooting forward in a blur of motion.

Dave stood at the edge of the deck, looking out at the vast horizon. Then, his gaze drifted toward His Lordship.

The Voice.

The one that had whispered to him, guided him, and accompanied him for so long.

Dave thought back to Joan—to their conversations, to the way she used to theorize about their existence.

"We are manifestations of the Voices we hear," Joan had once said, her words filled with conviction. "We are their best qualities, made real."

Back then, Dave hadn’t cared much for the idea.

But now—seeing His Lord in the flesh, breathing, existing, making choices of his own—

Maybe Joan had a point.

Still, he disagreed with her.

She believed that they were the best qualities of the Voices they followed. But Dave had always believed the opposite.

The Voice itself was the best version of them.

The ideal.

The guide.

A truth to be followed, as long as one had the will to do so.

Yet… His Lordship’s attitude challenged that very belief.

He wasn’t perfect.

Dave had always assumed that His Lordship, the one who had shaped him, was beyond doubt, beyond hesitation, beyond weakness.

But now, he saw the cracks.

Dave knew conflict when he saw one.

And His Lordship was in conflict with himself.

It was something Dave had to acknowledge sooner rather than later.

As the Floating Dragon warped forward, cutting through the skies in an instant, Dave felt something through their connection—a glimpse of something hidden deep in His Lord’s heart.

A silent prayer.

It was so intimate and deeply personal that even Dave, as a Holy Spirit, could barely grasp its meaning.

Yet he heard something.

A whisper.

A single word.

"Amen," His Lordship said.