A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5917

Jared forced the last scraps of strength into his legs and vaulted upright. "Now! Follow me!"

The next second, he plunged first through the blazing cataract. His Dragonslayer Sword carved a whirling aperture of muddy gray, bending the onrushing magma and the dazed Lava Beasts aside long enough to open a breath-wide passage.

Lindsay darted after him, a shell of Earthfire True Flame blossoming around her like a translucent lotus. Behind them, Vermilion Demon Lord swept his arms wide, ribbons of demonic aura locking onto the cleft and prying it apart so the molten walls could not reseal.

The three shot through the falls like arrowheads. On the far side, the world exploded outward—a sudden hush, a gasp of cool, jade-scented air.

The chamber they burst into measured scarcely thirty feet across, yet its beauty stole breath faster than the sulfur smoke outside.

From the arched ceiling drooped countless jade-green stalactites, each one pulsing with a mellow inner glow, veins of milk-white light dripping down their polished flanks.

At the cave's heart lay a pool no wider than a wash-basin, filled with opalescent liquid that shimmered in seven shifting hues. Life itself thickened the air, each inhale tasting of spring rain and ancient scripture.

It was the Jadeheart Marrow!

Encircling the pool, nine slender jade stalagmites rose like candle wicks. Each upheld a single bead of jade marrow so pure it refused to fall, a constellation cradling its moon.

Invisible forces braided among the nine pillars, knitting a final, flawless barrier.

"Nine-Star Spirit-Nurturing Array, naturally formed by the cosmos," Jared said, panting, his eyes filled with wonder and awe. "It cannot be cracked. Only pure life force can coax the jade marrow to open its hand."

He turned to the woman beside him. "Lindsay, I need one drop of your blood essence."

Without blinking, Lindsay pricked her fingertip. A bead of crimson-gold—shot through with a thread of cool cyan—pearled in her palm, a symbol of the direct bloodline of the Earthfire Pavilion and the mastery of the Earthfire True Scripture at a profound level.

Jared caught her offering, then sliced his own palm. A drop of gold-flecked scarlet, laced with raw chaotic energy and Golden Dragon Bloodline, welled forth.

The two droplets merged, swirling into a marble of liquid rainbow—fragile, luminous, and perfectly round.

Then, he flicked the prism toward the pool.

The moment it touched the unseen web, ripples chased one another across the air—yet nothing barred its path.

It vanished into the milky surface.

A low hum blossomed, and every jade pillar chimed at once, weaving a celestial chord that rolled through bone and soul.

The pool stirred. From its center, a fist-sized clot of jade marrow rose, compact as carved tallow, its riot of colors folding inward until only a gentle alabaster glow remained.

With a silent beckon of his fingers, Jared drew the treasure close and guided it into a waiting Chilljade Vial.

The instant the jade marrow left, the nine suspended droplets finally fell, replenishing the pool. In moments, the surface brimmed anew, its light a shade paler—a reminder that true heaven-born gifts must be taken with reverence, never in greed.

"Done."

Relief gusted from Jared's lungs. His knees buckled, but thankfully, Lindsay caught him before the stone could.

Behind them, Vermilion Demon Lord stared at the vial. For ten thousand years, his eyes had been a still, black lake. Now, ripples of raw, almost childlike excitement crept across their surface.

He parted his cracked lips, yet all that tumbled out was a rasping whisper. "Jared, I'll remember this favor..."

"Mr. Vermilion, your partner's life is the priority," Jared replied, his voice faint but steady, its calm weightier than any oath.

He managed a weary smile and pressed the vial into the demon lord's palm. “We need to leave the Chthonic Abyss now. Soul Devourer may have fled, but lingering here invites ruin," he added, each word costing him a pulse of pain from the wound over his heart.

Soul Devourer has escaped to level twelve, and now—with the Door of Reincarnation and the threat of Malevolent Path Hall—everything will converge there for the final reckoning.

Soul Devourer knelt there, forehead pressed to the icy floor. Six tattered flesh wings drooped like burnt banners; charred edges dripped sluggish beads of clotted demon blood.

His left arm was gone at the shoulder, and strands of Jared's chaotic sword energy clung to the stump, gnawing like invisible worms and refusing to let the wound seal.

Once, Soul-Devouring Demonic Flames had roared across his scales. Now, only pin-sized sparks flickered, and the faces of a million devoured souls blurred, fading on his cracked armor.

Arrogance that had shaken the Chthonic Abyss days ago lay shattered beside him.

On a throne of fused bones sat Malcolm Vayne.

Skin clung to bone, waxy and corpse-gray. There was no warmth, no pulse—just intent colder than interstellar ice.

His robe—black as a starless gulf—was threaded with runes of reincarnation that pulsed in and out with each whisper of his breath. Blind, gray eyes studied Soul Devourer, and a speck of amusement surfaced like oil.

"Soul Devourer..." The name drifted from his lips, rust dry, an autumn leaf scraping stone.

The voice itself rasped like two bones grinding together, every syllable sending a nauseating tremor through the captive's failing spirit.

"Ten thousand years ago, you swallowed a million souls and shook the entire level nine. Today, you crawl before me like a defeated wretch begging for help."

As Malcolm rose, his robe billowed though no wind stirred. Reincarnation aura swirled around him, birthing silent whirlpools that pulled at every mote of light, as if the hall itself wished to hide behind its master.

Malcolm's dry, rasping voice echoed across the throne room like iron scraping marble. "So—someone as formidable as yourself loses an arm to a mere cultivator of the Heavenly Immortal Realm. Your demonic flame scatters, you flee in disgrace, and now you cower before me for shelter..."

He descended the bone-carved steps with deliberate, almost lazy grace. Each tap of his skeletal shoe sole rang out, sharp enough to slice the heavy silence. "Tsk, tsk. If only the old fools you killed and harvested ten thousand years ago could see how pathetic you are now. Even the Reincarnation Pool would ripple from their laughter."