A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6025

Stones exploded upward.

Jared burst out of the seemingly empty rubble without a sound to warn them.

He raised one finger. No chanting, no glowing array—only a thread of gray light so dense it swallowed the sun. It ripped toward the carriage’s heart faster than thunder.

Its mark: the envoy seated within.

Every scrap of Jared’s spirit, blood, and chaotic force poured into that single thrust, the very essence of annihilation.

Compared with the jab he had slipped inside the treasury, this strike carried several times the weight.

"Ambush!" Clive’s shout cracked the carriage walls.

Gooseflesh crawled across his skin; raw survival instinct screamed at him.

He hurled every shred of divine power outward. Layers of shimmering defenses erupted inside the cabin as he flung himself backward, hoping to smash through the rear panel.

Still too slow.

The gray finger-light tunneled through shield after shield and landed squarely between Clive’s brows.

Pfft.

A soft sound, more sigh than blast.

Clive’s backward lunge froze midair.

His eyes bulged, disbelief drowning the last flicker of will.

From the gray dot at his forehead, decay rippled outward. Flesh, bone, and the hidden soul crumbled like dry sand drifting on the wind.

He never even touched the emergency communication charm pinned inside his robe.

One strike—an envoy at sixth grade of the upper-celestial realm was dead.

"The envoy!" one guard shrieked.

Panic flared, yet training held. Silver-armored guards locked into formation and hurled torrents of light, talismans, and steel at the lone attacker.

Jared did not spare them a glance.

In the blink of an eye he appeared beside the slowly falling corpse and pressed a palm to its crown.

Soulsearch Technique.

An ocean of splintered memories slammed into him: celestial cultivation arts, maps of the eastern region, corridors inside Divine Punishment Hall, half-formed truths about soul crystals.

He skimmed for the urgent pieces, sheathing his own spirit in chaotic force so any planted curse slid off harmlessly.

That same force spread outward as an invisible tide.

Every incoming spell hit the field, dimmed, and unraveled into silence before it could touch him.

A guard’s throat rattled. "A… a monster!"

Across the shattered formation, Jared caught the widening whites of the silver-armored celestial guards’ eyes. Helmets tilted, throats bobbing, a few shields dipped as though their elbows had turned to water. Terror crawled across their faces, stark and raw, brighter than the swirling canyon dust.

Their bolts of light sputtered against the gray aura and died like sparks sinking into deep water.

Shoulders stiffened, mouths hung open; the unspoken question glazed every pair of eyes—why didn’t a single strike bite?

Inside Jared’s mind the last shard of Clive’s memories slid into place—routes, passwords, hidden dread. A chill steadied behind his breastbone, clean and metallic.

He raised his gaze. The silver helmets reflected the dim whirlwinds, yet he met the eyes beneath them, one after another, letting them feel how briefly they still existed.

Loose ends bred disasters. The thought settled with the weight of law: leave no roots.

Jared pushed off invisible footing; his body liquefied into a streak of ashen light.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify