A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5868

"The Blood-Forging Soul Array!" an elderly scholar shrieked. "An ancient demonic formation—back away now!" Panic slashed through every face.

The group scattered toward the tunnel. Jared retreated with them, cold clarity settling in his chest. So it is a snare—someone doesn't merely want us dead. They want our very spirits refined into fuel.

Shadows peeled from the cavern walls, resolving into more than a dozen figures clad in black combat gear. Each wore a snarling demon mask, their aura sharp as winter steel.

The three at the front radiated power equal to Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Seven; the rest hovered only a tier or two lower. Together they formed a silent, murderous barricade between the survivors and any hope of escape.

They closed in from every direction, barricading every alleyway, rooftop, and break in the rubble until flight itself felt impossible, as though an iron net had dropped over the plaza.

"Malevolent Path Hall!" Conrad growled, the scar along his jaw whitening as his teeth clenched so hard the sound cracked like ice.

Dustin, now safely among the black-robed intruders, bowed to the foremost figure and reported with practiced servility, "Lord Ghostshade, the target has been delivered."

The envoy inclined his hooded head. A pair of coal-dark eyes skimmed the penned-in survivors before boring into Jared. His voice rasped like frost on steel. "So you are Jared Chance?"

As expected. They came for me and no one else.

"I am," Jared answered, stepping far enough forward that every torch lit the calm on his face.

"For spies, your Hall is quick," he added, voice level and almost courteous. "I set foot on level eleven only hours ago, and already you can't wait to rush over and die."

"Die?"

The envoy gave a soft, derisive laugh. "Heavenly Immortal Realm Level One, and you dare speak of our deaths?"

"Orders from the Hall Master," he continued, letting the words ring out. "A cool one million high-grade celestial stones and an elder's seat to whoever brings back your head. My brothers and I gladly accept the bounty."

He flicked his gaze to the men flanking him. "Third, silence the rest—leave no witnesses."

"Second, help me subdue the boy. Alive. The Master needs his soul intact."

"Understood." One black-robed killer lunged toward Conrad and the trapped cultivators while the second fell in beside the envoy, both advancing on Jared with predatory poise.

Vermilion Demon Lord roared and leapt in front of Jared, rivers of dark-crimson demonic essence surging around his armor like living flame.

"A demon-cultivator?" the envoy sneered. "Novel, but insufficient."

His hand snapped downward. "Attack."

The order was still echoing when both assassins struck at once.

One blurred forward with a dagger black as night; its tip gleamed with a cold blue toxin and speared toward Jared's throat as silently—and as swiftly—as a viper's tongue.

The other swung a pair of metallic ghost claws. Wind screamed around the talons as they scythed straight for Jared's chest, heavier than a hammer, shriller than tearing glass.

Fast matched with vicious, finesse with brute force—the duet calculated to leave not a fingerbreadth in which Jared could slip away. Victory, they believed, would be instant.

After all, against a mere first-grade Heavenly Immortal, two seasoned killers felt like overkill, not risk.

Across the square, Conrad and the other captives buckled under the third assassin's assault, each heartbeat adding blood to the stones.

Vermilion tried to break free, but five- and six-grade disciples from Malevolent Path Hall swarmed him, shackling his power with their own.

For a breathless instant, it seemed Jared would die where he stood—

—until he moved.

He neither dodged nor raised a guard.

Instead, he drew his sword, the motion so measured it felt like the hush before thunder.

Shch—shch!

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