A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6522

"Elder Cillian."

Jared stood on the city walls, looking out over Freehold under the night sky.

Lights burned all through the city, warm lamplight spilling through windows and across the streets.

Elder Cillian bowed deeply, his white beard stirring in the night wind. "Rest easy, Mr. Chance. This old man will guard Freehold with his life. As long as I still draw breath, I won't let this city fall again."

Jared gave his shoulder a firm pat and said nothing more.

In the side hall, Gwendolyn had already changed into a clean white dress.

Her hair, black as ink, was pinned up simply with a silver hairpin.

Color had fully returned to her face. Her spiritual power was full and steady, and the damage to her spirit had almost completely healed.

She stood by the window, staring into the night, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Two moons hung high above, one silver and one red, their light falling through the lattice and over her body.

Her shadow stretched long behind her across the wall.

"Are you ready?" Jared asked as he walked into the side hall.

Gwendolyn turned and smiled at him. "I'm ready."

Her voice was soft, but there wasn't a trace of hesitation in it.

She knew where Jared was going.

The Seventeenth Firmament—a place a hundred times more dangerous than the Sixteenth Firmament, and a hundred times more extraordinary.

Maybe she wouldn't be able to help him much.

But at the very least, she would stand beside him.

Jared reached into his robe and took out the silver-white token.

It burned hot in his palm. The nine-tailed fox engraved on it gave off a faint glow, and the sigils on the back began to turn slowly.

He poured spiritual power into it, and silver-white radiance surged from the token, growing brighter and stronger by the second.

A moment later, the void passage tore open above Freehold.

It was a pitch-black vortex, with faint starlight flickering somewhere in its depths.

Ancient force of Space Law poured out of the vortex, carrying a vast, sovereign pressure.

All across Freehold, the cultivators stopped what they were doing and looked up at the sky, awe filling their faces.

"Let's go." Jared caught Gwendolyn's hand.

Her hand was warm. Her palm pressed against his, her fingers lacing tightly with his.

The two of them leaped into the air and became a violet streak of light as they shot into the void passage.

The vortex slowly contracted, swallowing that violet streak whole.

Then it shrank again, and again, until it vanished into the night, leaving behind only a faint silver glow like a handful of falling stars.

Elder Cillian stood on the city walls, staring at the place where the void passage had disappeared, and stayed silent for a long time.

The night wind lifted his white hair and beard, and the moonlight stretched his shadow long behind him.

Behind him, Freehold blazed with light. Laughter drifted up from the city, along with the sounds of training and singing.

This city was coming back to life.

"Mr. Chance... take care," he said softly.

Then he turned and shouted to the cultivators below the city walls, "Back to training! No slacking off! If Mr. Chance isn't here, that just means you need to work even harder!"

Inside the void passage, Jared and Gwendolyn were wrapped in the force of Space Law, hurtling toward the Seventeenth Firmament at a speed beyond imagining.

The world around them kept shifting—one moment a brilliant sea of stars, the next twisted folds of space, then the flash of some unknown world gone in an instant.

Inside the void passage, the silence felt absolute. The only sound was the thin hiss of spatial force sliding past them, like wind threading through a gorge.

It was Gwendolyn's first time traveling through a void passage, and she couldn't keep the tension out of her body.

Her hand clamped tight around Jared's arm until her knuckles turned white.

The constantly shifting sights around them made her dizzy, and the pressure of the spatial force pressed so hard on her chest she could barely breathe.

Jared lowered his head and glanced at her.

"Aureate Heir! You've finally come back!" Master Wellspring's voice broke with tears as he started to drop to his knees and kowtow again.

Jared caught him with one hand and stopped him from kneeling. "Master Wellspring, this is Gwendolyn."

He turned to Gwendolyn. "Gwendolyn, this is Master Wellspring, sect master of the Wellspring Order.."

Gwendolyn gave a slight bow in greeting. "Sect Master, I've heard a great deal about you."

Master Wellspring returned the gesture in a rush, awkward as a boy. "Miss Frost, you're too kind. The Aureate Heir made it this far thanks to your care on the road."

Gwendolyn shook her head, a faint smile touching her lips. "He was the one looking after me."

Master Wellspring blinked, caught off guard, and then he smiled.

A second later, that smile broke apart under fresh tears.

He lifted his sleeve and scrubbed at his eyes, laughing at himself even as he did it. "I've embarrassed myself. I've embarrassed myself. I'm old now. I tear up at the slightest thing."

Jared didn't say anything.

His gaze passed over Master Wellspring and fixed on the distance.

There, Venerable Starwick's storm clouds were still gathering—heavier than they had been seven days ago, darker, lower, so oppressive they looked ready to crush down from the sky to the earth.

Shapes moved inside the clouds by the thousands, barely visible. Cold flashes from armor pierced the black mass, and sword light kept cutting across the sky.

The saintlight adepts of Deepvault Cloister stood in ranks like mountains. The sword adepts of Saintspire Court flew banners thick enough to blot out the sky. The Venerables of Pole Star Hall drifted through cloud and mist.

The three allied parties had joined forces, and with more than 4,500 troops, they had already begun attacking the forward strongholds outside Beastmoor Ridge.

"Master Wellspring, what's the latest from Venerable Starwick's side?"

Master Wellspring's expression turned grave, and he forced the tears back down. "The armies of Deepvault Cloister and Saintspire Court have already linked up with Pole Star Hall. Their combined force is over 4,500 strong, and they've started attacking several outlying strongholds around Beastmoor Ridge.

"Your Majesty Morgana has already sent two waves of reinforcements. For now, the situation is stable. But Venerable Starwick himself still hasn't made a move. It looks like he's waiting for something."

Jared nodded. "Then let him wait."

His voice was calm, but every word carried a confidence cold enough to make the skin crawl.

He was now at True Immortal Realm Level Seven, wielding chaotic force. Venerable Starwick might be at the peak of Golden Immortal Level Three, but with Jared's current strength, plus the Aureate Codex and chaotic force, the outcome was far from certain.