A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6317

The Skywolf Tribe was located in the northern part of the Nether Mountain Range, spread across a long stretch of the Wastelands.

There were no city walls here. No palace, either.

There were only tents and houses made from animal hide, scattered across the plain like a field of white mushrooms.

The beast race had never cared for luxury. Their buildings were simple and practical.

But simple didn't mean weak.

The Skywolf Tribe had stood in the Fifteenth Firmament for tens of thousands of years, and what held them up had never been city walls. It was strength.

Jared and Gwendolyn came down in front of the Skywolf Tribe's camp.

Several beast-race warriors came forward to meet them, gripping bone axes and long spears as they watched the two of them with open caution.

"Who are you?"

"Jared. I'm here to see your Chieftain."

The expressions on the beast-race warriors' faces changed at the same time.

Over the last two days, Jared's name had spread through the Fifteenth Firmament like wildfire.

A single punch in the Pyre Chasm had badly wounded Cedric Gilt. One move on Thunderpeak had killed Magnus Storme.

Those stories had already reached the Skywolf Tribe.

"Y-You... please wait here." One of the beast-race warriors turned and ran into the camp.

A short while later, a heavily built beast-race giant came striding out from inside the camp.

A wolfskin cloak hung from his shoulders, and three blood-colored scars were carved across his face.

He was one of the Skywolf Tribe's best-known war generals—Wolf-Fang.

"Fellow Adept Jared!" Wolf-Fang called out as he strode over and cupped his fists in greeting. "Long time no see! The Chieftain heard you'd arrived, so he specially sent me to welcome you in."

Jared returned the salute with a cupped-fist bow. "Thank you for the trouble."

Wolf-Fang led Jared and Gwendolyn through the camp and headed for the massive tent at the very center.

Along the way, beast-race warriors kept stopping where they stood to look at Jared.

Their eyes carried a little of everything at once—wariness, curiosity, and that restless edge that made it clear some of them wanted to test themselves against him.

"Fellow adept Jared, you really killed Magnus Storme?" Wolf-Fang asked out of nowhere.

"Mm."

Wolf-Fang's eyes lit up. "Good! I couldn't stand that old bastard a long time ago. Just because the Tribunal Venerable backed him, he strutted around on Skywolf Tribe turf like he owned the place. If the Chieftain hadn't stopped me, I'd have fought him already!"

Jared only smiled and said nothing.

With Wolf-Fang's strength, Magnus Storme probably would have put him down in a single move.

The tent in the center was huge, big enough to hold a hundred people.

The door flap was made from beast hide, and embroidered across it was an enormous golden wolf head—the Skywolf Tribe's totem.

Wolf-Fang lifted the flap. "Fellow adept Jared, after you."

Jared stepped into the tent.

The inside was arranged simply.

A thick carpet of animal hides covered the ground, and in the middle sat a huge brazier, packed with a roaring fire.

An old man sat behind the brazier.

His hair had gone white, and his face showed his age, but his frame was still powerfully built.

His eyes were a deep brown, and in his pupils it looked as though fire was burning.

A faint bloodline power coiled around him.

It stayed tightly reined in, but the pressure of it still filled the space.

His cultivation was at True Immortal Realm Level Eight.

The Chieftain of Skywolf Tribe—Hadrian Wolfhowe.

Jared stopped in front of the brazier and raised his hands in salute.

"Chieftain Wolfhowe, I've heard your name for a long time."

Wolfhowe looked at him and said nothing for a moment.

Then Hadrian smiled.

It was an open, easy smile, broad as the wind sweeping across the Wastelands.

"Jared, you're younger than I expected."

He rose to his feet, walked up to Jared, and looked him over from top to bottom.

"Top Level High Immortal Realm Level Eight. And you killed Magnus Storme, a True Immortal Realm Level Seven, in one move. Kid, you've got skill."

Jared smiled. "I got lucky."

Hadrian threw his head back and laughed. "Lucky? Magnus Storme trained in thunder arts for thousands of years, and you're saying luck was enough to kill him? Cut the modest act."

He turned and walked back to his seat, then motioned for Jared to sit.

"Go on. What did you come to me for?"

Jared didn't sit.

He stayed where he was and looked at Hadrian. "I came for the Soulkindling Flame."

The tent went still.

Wolf-Fang's face changed on the spot.

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