003 Sword Dance

I began with careful experiments.

First, my speed.

The ancient tree stood to my left, the ruined fountain ahead. I focused, tensed my muscles, and moved. The world blurred—stone cracked beneath my step, wind howled past my ears. When I stopped, the tree was behind me.

Too fast. My balance wavered for an instant.

Again.

I adjusted, grounding myself before vanishing from one spot to the next. This time, I accounted for momentum, slowing just before I stopped. Much better. My breath remained steady, but my mind reeled.

So this is what peak Paladin Agility feels like.

Next, strength.

I clenched my fist and struck forward—not at anything, just through the air. A sharp crack split the silence as the force rippled outward. The shockwave stirred the dust at my feet.

No need for further tests. That alone proved it.

For balance, I moved through a series of steps—a twisting leap, a controlled flip, landing lightly atop a narrow wooden post. My body obeyed every command with precision, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next. It was as if years of discipline had been carved into my very bones.

I exhaled slowly. This power—it wasn’t just mine yet. My instincts lagged behind my abilities. A single misstep could mean disaster.

I had to be careful.

Finally, the real test.

I reached into my Item Box and withdrew a blade that was neither ornate nor gaudy, yet any true warrior would recognize its worth in an instant.

Silver Steel.

A legendary longsword, unassuming in its simplicity. No glowing runes, no excessive embellishments. Just a weapon honed to perfection, its edge keen enough to bite through mythril.

The moment I gripped its hilt, a familiar sensation welled up inside me—an urge, a hunger. My body demanded release, to swing, to cut, to test the full extent of my strength.

But I restrained myself.

I was too close to the city. If this world’s cultivators could sense energy fluctuations the way they did in the stories… Well, there was no need to invite trouble. Not yet.

Instead, I focused on control.

One hand tightened around the hilt. Normally, a weapon of this size required both hands, but my Monkey Grip passive allowed me to wield it effortlessly in one. I swung in a slow arc, feeling the weight, testing my range. The blade whispered through the air, its balance impeccable.

I smiled faintly.

With slow, deliberate movements, I swung the blade.

And suddenly—

The sword sang. A whisper through the air, smooth as flowing water, sharp as winter’s first frost. My body moved on instinct, each strike precise, each step effortless, as if these motions had been carved into my very soul.

It was too natural.

With every swing, memories surged forth.

My breath hitched. My grip tightened. A shiver crawled up my spine—not from exertion, but from something deeper. A bone-deep wrongness.

I wasn’t just recalling these movements.

I was reliving them.

A young warrior, clutching a crude iron sword, accepting his first quest.
A terrified rookie, facing down his first goblin.
A battle-worn survivor, hands trembling as he made his first kill.
The joy of his first class advancement. The agony of countless deaths and resurrections.

The thrill of battle. The weight of loss.

And then—

I saw him.

Not from my own eyes, but from afar. A figure clad in silver and steel, standing tall amidst bloodied fields and shattered dungeons.

David_69.

My game character.

A max-level Paladin, forged through endless battles, sharpened by war. A warrior who had upheld his oath until the bitter end.

For a single, terrifying moment, I wasn’t just remembering.

I was him.

The world spun. My vision blurred. The weight of years—of victories and deaths, of battles fought and quests completed—threatened to swallow me whole.

No.

I ripped myself back.

I staggered, breath ragged, Silver Steel digging into the ground as I used it to steady myself. The memories clung to me, lingering like ghosts.

That wasn’t nostalgia. That wasn’t just a flashback.

That was something else.

Something deeper.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my mind to steady.

This wasn’t a game.

And that?

That was the scariest part of all.

A bitter chuckle slipped past my lips. Strange and bizarre phenomena? Check. Unexplainable memories surfacing from nowhere? Check. A creeping sense that reality itself might be a fever dream? Double check.

If this were a game, I’d expect a flashing quest marker in my vision, urging me to "Uncover the Secrets of Your Transmigration!" or some other cryptic nonsense.

Hell, for all I knew, this was a simulation. Maybe I was just a collection of numbers and code.

Maybe I was never real in the first place.

I shook my head. No use chasing shadows.

With a final breath, I dismissed the thoughts and returned Silver Steel to my Item Box.

There were still experiments to run.

The Item Box worked. That was a win.

But how far could I push gamer mechanics in this world?

Time to find out.

Next test: Fast Travel.

I stood still, focused, and willed myself to teleport. Anywhere.

Nothing.

Next: World Map.

I concentrated, imagining a translucent map appearing in my vision.

Still nothing.

Mini-map?

Nada.

World Chat?

I muttered under my breath, “/global Hello? Anyone?”

Silence.

…Okay. Premium Shop?

I dramatically raised my hand. “Open Premium Shop!”

Nothing. No glowing UI. No limited-time deals. No overpriced weapon skins.

Truly, I was in hell.

I let out a slow breath. So much for buying my way out of trouble.

It was painfully clear that gamer logic wasn’t on my side. No system messages, no convenient level-ups, no tutorials to guide me through cultivation like some overpowered protagonist.

I was on my own.

So much for easy mode.

What was I even supposed to do in this world?

There had to be a reason why I was here, right?

Since my other gamer perks were useless, I returned to the one thing that actually worked.

The Item Box.

It stored weapons and equipment. But could I weaponize it?

Time for the Minecraft test.

I knelt down, pressed my hand against the ground, and tried to shove raw earth into my inventory.

Nothing.

Damn. That would’ve been fun.

Still, through trial and error, I confirmed three key limitations:

• I could store anything—as long as it wasn’t alive. No tossing enemies into the void.

• The object had to be something I could lift with one or two hands. No pocketing buildings or stealing mountains for fun.

• There were no visual cues. No glowing effects, no flashy light, nothing.

That last part? Very important.

It meant my Item Box was invisible to others.

I grinned as possibilities flooded my mind.

Hidden weapons appearing out of nowhere.
A dagger materializing in my hand mid-fight.
A healing potion summoned mid-swing, making me look invincible.
An explosive flask hurled at an enemy’s face with zero warning.

Hah. You ain’t ready for me yet, cultivators.

I spent the next few hours pushing my limits, testing theories, adjusting my tactics. I didn’t have a clear path forward, but one thing was certain—

Even if I couldn’t rely on gamer mechanics, I could rely on creativity.

And if there was one thing Paladins excelled at—

It was adapting to survive.

I was tempted to test my flashier skills.

Divine Smite? Would it translate into this world?
Holy Wrath? Would it still incinerate low-level wraiths when they got too close?
Sanctuary? Could I just declare myself untouchable and walk away from all my problems?

But even I knew when to quit while I was ahead.

Especially when I suddenly had a visitor.

I sensed her before I saw her.

A ripple in the air. The faint hum of power, touching at the edge of my perception.

And then—moonlight glinting off pristine robes.

She descended gracefully, sword floating beneath her feet, posture rigid with authority. Even without speaking, she radiated a presence that screamed: “Do not test me unless you enjoy pain.”

She looked young—early twenties, maybe. But given cultivator lifespans, she could have been fifty for all I knew.

Great. My first real encounter with a local, and it had to be a city enforcer.

I knew the type.

“State your name,” she said, voice crisp, no-nonsense.

I hesitated. My full username from Lost Legends Online was David_69, but there was no way I was introducing myself like that.

“…David,” I said simply.

She frowned, as if tasting the name on her tongue. Then, after a pause—

“Dei Wu? Dei Vu?” she tested, completely butchering the pronunciation. “Da Wei?”

I blinked.

That wasn’t even close.

Had she misheard me? With her cultivation, she could probably get it right if she really tried. But then, I caught my reflection in her polished pauldron.

Dark hair. Strong features. Clothes that, while foreign, could pass as something a wandering cultivator might wear.

I looked the part of a native.

Probably better this way.

I smirked. Might as well lean into it.

“Da Wei,” I said, recalling an old meme.

“A proper greeting, then,” she continued. “I am an official enforcer of Yellow Dragon City. My name is Liang Na.”

She produced a silver plaque, a clear mark of her authority.

I kept my face neutral.

Close enough.

She studied me, her sharp eyes flickering with suspicion.

“Your affiliation?”

I froze. A second too long.

Was traveler the right answer? Cultivators had sects, clans, or sworn brotherhoods. Saying the wrong thing could mean getting labeled a rogue—or worse, an outlaw.

I forced an easy smile. “Just a traveler.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“A traveling cultivator?”

I hesitated for the briefest of moments.

Technically? No.

I was a Paladin. A holy warrior with divine magic. A knight of righteousness. A lawful good tank.

But in a world of qi, dao, and flying sword nonsense?

Yeah, that wasn’t going to translate well.

So I nodded. “You could say that.”

She gave me a slow, assessing look.

“I see.”

I resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

She hadn’t immediately called me a fraud—that was a good sign. She must have been watching me for a while, gauging my actions. My Divine Sense hadn’t picked her up, either because she was beyond its range… or because she had no hostile intent.

Either way, I was now on the radar of an official enforcer.

Which meant my next moves had to be very, very careful.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly. “So… is there a problem?”

Liang Na’s expression didn’t change. “No problem. Just a warning.”

Warnings were never good.

I frowned. “A warning for what, exactly?”

She exhaled through her nose—already tired of this conversation.

“You used a spell on a civilian.”

Oh.

Ohhh.

So that little Divine Word: Rest trick I pulled on Young Master Zhao earlier did catch someone’s attention. Unfortunate. I was hoping to avoid trouble.

“…I wouldn’t really call it a spell,” I muttered, scratching my cheek. “More like… a harmless suggestion.”

Liang Na stared at me, unimpressed. “A suggestion that rendered someone unconscious.”

“Harmlessly unconscious,” I clarified. “And, if I may add, peacefully unconscious.”

For the briefest moment, I swore I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

But her tone remained level. “Regardless, do not use spells on civilians in the future.”

Noted.

I gave a slow nod. “Duly warned.”

She cupped her fist in a polite but practiced gesture. “I hope I haven’t troubled you, Young Master.”

Politeness? Or a subtle test?

I returned the gesture. “It's fine.”

“Young Master Da,” she said again, still sticking with her earlier misinterpretation. “It is acceptable to use spells or martial arts within city grounds only for self-defense—or if no civilians are harmed. Do you understand?”

I sighed internally.

Guess I’m Da Wei now.

“I trust I’m not in any trouble, then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a slow breath. “No. You handled the incident in the inn well enough.”

Her voice carried a certain… weariness.

“Many cultivators from esteemed clans or sects visit Yellow Dragon City this time of year to indulge in mortal festivities. It is…” She exhaled. “Exhausting dealing with them.”

That made sense.

A bunch of privileged, superpowered rich kids descending on the city for a festival? It was a recipe for chaos.

“So… I take it Young Master Zhao is one of those troublemakers?” I guessed.

Liang Na’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Among many others,” she admitted. “Though, he is considered more civilian than important scion.”

Huh. So he wasn’t even a big deal.

She must have assumed I was just another Young Master out enjoying the mortal world. But since I had resolved the situation amiably—instead of, say, smiting Zhao into a fine paste—I had somehow landed in her good books.

Interesting.

A thought occurred to me.

Feigning mild offense, I asked, “Why do you think I’m a Young Master?”

I made sure to inject just the right amount of youthful arrogance into my tone—like I actually cared.

Liang Na’s gaze sharpened.

“A junior in cultivation,” she said coolly, “should know where he stands.”

Ah.

That was a warning.

A very subtle, but very real warning.

I schooled my expression immediately and gave a slight bow.

“I see. My apologies.”

She gave a slow nod, satisfied.

Lesson learned—tread carefully.

I wasn’t in trouble yet, but I had definitely landed on someone’s radar.