A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5687

"Master, are you all right?"

Jared knelt beside Zevon, fingers glowing faintly as he examined the elder's injuries.

Zevon shook his head, a wan smile tucked beneath the blood at the corner of his mouth. "I will live, Mr. Chance. But the Soul Devourer fled..."

"He fled wounded," Jared replied, voice steady but low. "Given the gash you carved into him, he won't return for a while. What matters now is regaining our strength as quickly as possible."

He rose and turned to Neville. "Mr. Contreras, we need the use of your sect grounds—and disciples to guard us while we recover."

Neville inclined his head, the lined planes of his face hard with resolve. "Mr. Chance, so long as the Soul Devourer stays away, my disciples will stand against anything level nine—or anyone else—dares to send."

Neville let out a long, measured breath. "All right."

Jared answered in kind, then strode to the Nethergate Sect's forbidden grounds. With a sweep of his sleeve, he took the Pentacarna Tower out.

Without hesitation, Jared stepped through the yawning gate. Sylvia's violet robe fluttered after him. Neville followed with soldierly economy, and, finally, Zevon slipped inside, curiosity blazing.

Within these walls, the tower bent the fabric of existence itself. What felt like a single breath beyond its door could stretch into seasons beneath its vaulted ceilings—perfect for warriors desperate to reclaim their strength before the next battle trumpet sounded.

Waves of silver mist rolled across the inner corridors, each ripple a visible pulse of dilated time. Zevon's eyes widened; the reflection of that undulating current made his pupils shimmer like twin mercury pools.

"Mr. Chance," he whispered, awe edging every syllable, "is this the Pentacarna Tower?"

"It is," Jared replied, arching a brow. "You recognize it? Most cultivators wouldn't."

"If my guess is right, your Pentacarna Tower can bend the very clock—one year outside, an entire century inside, yes?"

"Exactly." Jared's eyes flew open, shock rippling across his face like lightning over still water.

Until this moment, he had never imagined the tower's birth to be so otherworldly. Hearing the name Beast-Subduing Tower sent a stab of urgency through him.

Cyanna and Coall were still imprisoned there, and the dragon crystal Jared had taken from Cyanna now pulsed quietly inside his own chest.

Even more staggering—each of the three towers had once been a supreme cultivator, their souls refined into everlasting stone and steel.

So the races were allies once, and only later tore each other apart.