A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6054

"At once!" Morvane bowed and slipped an arm beneath Luther’s to guide him out. Their retreating footsteps echoed softer, urgency cushioned by hope.

Elder Gloam shifted his attention to Jared again. "Young Jared, I sense wounds on you as well. If you do not mind, remain in Nether City and heal."

The offer sounded more like advice delivered by a physician who already knew the diagnosis.

"The nether aura here is unusually thick," he continued, "and it may harmonize with that rare power within you. Consider it an unexpected boon."

A faint smile softened the elder’s ancient features for half a heartbeat.

Exactly the invitation Jared had been hoping for. He cupped his fists. "Then I shall impose on your hospitality and thank you for it."

Relief flickered through his battered meridians at the thought of respite.

Elder Gloam turned slightly toward the dim margins of the hall. "Neoma." The single name broke the shadow like a bell note, summoning whatever figure waited there.

A figure slipped out of the shadow behind the pillar, the hem of her midnight dress brushing the stone with a noiseless sweep.

Moonlight—or what passed for it beneath the black braziers—ran over her cold, sculpted face and turned every contour into sharp glass.

The aura she carried roiled at High Immortal Realm Level Five, and her eyes, narrow and bright, looked as capable of cutting flesh as any blade.

Elder Gloam’s gravelly voice broke the stillness. "Take Jared to Shadowrest Lodge. See that he is treated well."

The command cracked like a hammer on stone, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

"Yes." The woman answered without hesitation, her voice as cool as the steel in her gaze.

Neoma stepped forward and offered Jared a guiding gesture, palm angled in silent invitation. The faint scent of ghost-fire incense drifted from her sleeve as she waited.

Jared stepped after her, boots clicking once on the temple floor before the cavernous doors swung shut behind them.

They walked through torch-lined streets toward the city’s western quarter, the crowd thinning until only silent stone walls kept pace.

At last Neoma stopped before a secluded courtyard tucked under a jagged cliff face.

The courtyard was modest, barely wide enough for two peach trees and a flagstone path.

Yet every lantern, every bamboo screen, had been arranged with deliberate taste that whispered rather than boasted.

At its center gurgled a pool wrought entirely from congealed nether aura, a living spring famous for knitting torn flesh and spirit.

"If Mr. Jared requires anything, shake this bell."

Neoma offered a tiny bone chime between two pale fingers, the glaze of its surface catching the torchlight.

"Nether City does not welcome outsiders," she added, tone still glacial. "Please avoid roaming without reason."

"Understood." Jared inclined his head once.

The answer carried neither offense nor submission, only calm certainty.

When Neoma’s footsteps faded, the courtyard slipped into hush broken only by the soft bubbling of the spring.

Jared settled cross-legged on the warm flagstones at water’s edge, breath steadied, senses sinking inward to inspect every wound.

The confrontation with the Beast-Quelling Venerable had left more damage than he first admitted.

Internal bruises pulsed beneath each breath, a dull echo of the moment that giant palm had slammed into his chest.

His reservoir of chaotic force now felt like a drained cistern; only stubborn traces clung to shattered channels.

Several meridians showed ragged tears, and a hairline fissure ran across his energy center like a spiderweb under glass.

Any ordinary cultivator would have been ruined already; the unique resilience of chaotic force alone kept his foundation intact.

One on one, he could have buried each foe with ruthless efficiency.

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