A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6527

By noon, all three suns hung high at the center of the sky.

Pole Star Hall's host finally broke through the ninth ward-layer and advanced to the foot of Beastmoor Ridge's mountain gate.

Of the 3,000 cultivators who had come, nearly 800 were gone.

The remaining 2,200 still held a tight formation, their holy radiance joined into a single blazing sheet as they spread into an assault line before the gate.

But their armor was caked with blood and mud.

Their weapons were chipped and battered, and many of them had already burned through more than half their spiritual power.

Breaking through all nine wards had cost them dearly.

With every layer they passed, the resistance had grown fiercer, and every garrison had traded its life for a little more time.

The square before the mountain gate had been cleared out completely.

Across a vast stretch of open ground, there wasn't a single thing to hide behind. The emptiness felt wrong.

On the cliff walls flanking the square, the elders of the Azure Cloud Sword Order hovered in the air.

At least a hundred flying swords floated beside each of them. Thousands of blades had joined into the Thousandfold Sword-Crown Array, their points angled outward, cold light glinting like an inverted river of stars until the whole sky seemed stained iron-gray.

The array masters of the Myriad Arts Order were stationed around the square, each one standing atop a core formation-node.

All eighteen layered wards had been activated.

Screens of light stacked over one another like overturned glass bowls, sealing the mountain gate tight.

Only one man stood in front of the mountain gate.

He wore a green robe, his posture straight and still, like a naked blade driven into the center of the square.

The Dragonslayer Sword hung at his waist, a faint violet glow moving across the sheath.

Jared lifted his head and looked at the golden war-chariot bearing down from the horizon.

Venerable Starwick's war-chariot rolled out of the forest.

The hooves of its eight sky-steeds struck the flagstones of the square and left blackened hoofprints behind.

The war-chariot stopped 100 yards from Jared, and Venerable Starwick looked down at him from above.

His gold robe snapped in the wind. He held his golden spear crosswise, holy radiance surging around him like fire.

The pressure of a peak Golden Immortal Level Three cultivation burst out without restraint, strong enough to crack the flagstones across the square.

Venerable Glacier and Venerable Clarendon arrived with their own forces as well, taking position on Pole Star Hall's left and right wings.

Venerable Glacier stood atop the Glacier Chariot, his ice-blue robe stirring in the wind.

He glanced at the formation before the mountain gate, his brows drawing together slightly, but he showed no intention of making a move.

Venerable Clarendon sat high upon a floating sacred dais, his white robe perfectly still.

That unreadable smile still touched his mouth. His gaze paused on Jared for a brief instant, then moved on.

"Jared."

Venerable Starwick's voice exploded over the square like muffled thunder. "You destroyed my Branch Hall, killed my elders, slaughtered my disciples. Today, I'm here to settle that debt myself."

Jared said nothing.

He raised his right hand and slowly drew the Dragonslayer Sword.

The instant the blade cleared the sheath, violet chaos-flame rose along the sword.

It wasn't violent, wasn't even bright, but from 100 yards away it still made the corner of Venerable Starwick's eye twitch.

"Anyone who stands in my way dies."

Venerable Starwick planted his spear crosswise.

Holy radiance gathered at the tip into a searing white orb no larger than a fist, yet the power packed inside it was enough to flatten an entire hilltop.

"Those words..."

Jared finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud. His tone was so flat it was almost casual.

"I'm giving them back to you exactly as they were."

Then he moved.

No gathering power. No opening move.

Jared simply vanished from where he stood, and in the next instant he was already above Venerable Starwick's war-chariot.

The Dragonslayer Sword came down in the plainest possible chop.

It didn't even look fast. If anything, it looked slow. But everywhere the blade passed, space ripped open behind it in a black fissure.

That wasn't sword force tearing space apart.

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