A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6067

"Grand Venerable, this array is…unnatural."

The Celestial Venerable's warning cut into the silence, low and urgent.

Another Venerable added in a gravelly tone, "We can't keep throwing ordinary soldiers to their deaths."

Drawing a steadier breath, the Grand Venerable shouted, "Jared, do you think hiding behind that array can stop my three-hundred-thousand-strong army?"

Jared laughed. "Why not come and find out?"

He paused, letting the echo of his laugh fade.

The faint grin on his lips sharpened, carrying a chill that slid across the field.

"Sending these small fry to die is dull. You have ten Venerables, don't you? Send them all—I'll face every one alone."

Shock swept through both armies like wind through dry leaves; startled voices rose and collided in chaotic uproar.

"He wants to fight ten Level-Seven Venerables by himself?" Disbelief crackled in the muttered question.

"Madness!" another voice barked.

More whispers followed, all agreeing on one point—Jared had lost his mind.

Even Luther and the others blanched. "Mr. Chance, you mustn't!" one of them pleaded.

Jared dismissed the concern with a light wave. "It's fine. I've been wanting to test my limits."

He tilted his chin toward the Grand Venerable. "What's wrong? Ten against one still scares you?"

Color flickered across the Grand Venerable's face before he snarled, "Fine! You crave death—I'll oblige!"

He snapped a glance at the assembled Venerables. "You ten, find out how deep his power runs."

The ten exchanged a silent nod, then shot into the air together, robes cracking like banners in a storm.

Each was High Immortal Level-Seven, drawn from a different corner of level thirteen, a sovereign in his or her own right.

Facing a mere Level-One junior as a group bruised their pride, yet the carnage they had just witnessed kept caution locked in their hearts.

"Jared, meet your end!" they roared in unison.

All ten moved at once, unleashing artifacts and divine arts that painted the sky in clashing colors.

Frost swept like a blizzard, flames towered, sword-light crisscrossed, and thunder hammered until heaven itself seemed to buckle.

Ten distinct law forces braided into a single ocean of destruction, surging overhead before crashing toward Jared with irresistible weight.

Even a Grand Venerable at High Immortal Realm Level Eight would have chosen to dodge rather than meet that wall of force head-on.

Amid the roar, Jared simply curled his lip in a quiet smile.

He lifted Dragonslayer Sword, voice steady and low.

"Chaos Sword Domain, open."

A breath later, everything within a thousand-foot circle around him dulled to ash-gray.

The ten distinct law forces plunged into that gray field.

Their brilliance faded the instant they crossed the boundary. An unseen undertow smothered each strand until the power melted like ink in water.

"What?!"

All ten Venerables jerked back, panic flaring across their faces as certainty cracked.

None of them had ever witnessed a domain that could swallow the very principles they commanded. The realization drilled cold into bone: their strongest cards were being eaten alive.

Jared's grip tightened.

"My turn."

The words landed soft, almost polite, yet carried the chill of closing doors.

He stepped once, nothing more, and his sword arm swung. Dragonslayer whistled, the edge skimming a thin, perfect arc through the heavy air.

"Chaos—slash."

The phrase rode the motion like lightning along a wire.

Ten gray sword beams fanned out, each locking onto a separate target before slashing forward with predatory precision.

Speed—unreal. The beams arrived so quickly the eye caught only the ghost of a line before it vanished.

The Venerables never saw the full path. A cool kiss marked every brow, followed by a spike of agony that clawed straight into the soul.

Blood sprayed from a single neck.

Then another.

Again—and again—until the rhythm blurred into a nightmarish drum.

Ten heads arced into the air together, spinning as neatly as petals in wind.

Ten High Immortal Realm Level Seven Venerables fell lifeless before their bodies understood they were dead.

One swing. Ten corpses. The field itself seemed shocked into utter stillness.

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