A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6530

Jared hovered in midair, his violet eyes sweeping across the battlefield.

His spirit sense blanketed the entire square.

Every person who fell, every section of the line that was ripped open, every desperate countercharge from Pole Star Hall came through with brutal clarity.

After burning his blood essence, Venerable Starwick had gone completely mad.

Every swing of the Goldspear came all-out.

Every move was meant to drag the other side down with him.

He didn't defend, didn't block, didn't dodge.

Jared's sword energy carved deep wounds into him, cuts so deep the bone showed, but Starwick ignored them completely, letting golden blood spray through the air while the Goldspear in his hands drove back harder and more viciously than before.

Jared could handle that kind of fighting.

Chaotic force suppressed holy radiance.

His cultivation was lower than Starwick's, but if this dragged on, the one who died would definitely be Starwick.

Burning blood essence came with a price.

Jared could clearly sense Starwick's blood essence draining fast. At most, he had another half hour. Even if Jared did nothing, Starwick would burn himself dry, his cultivation would collapse, and he might well die on the spot.

But that wasn't the real question.

Could Jared afford to wait half an hour?

Beastmoor Ridge's lines hadn't been torn open yet, but the losses were already severe.

The Wellspring Order's sword array had been smashed apart twice.

Both times, Master Wellspring had led men in personally to force it back into place, and both times, the price had been paid in lives.

The Azure Cloud Sword Order's Thousandfold Sword-Crown Array was being ground down bit by bit by the holy-radiance bombs.

The flying swords hanging in the air had dropped from several thousand to just over a thousand, and every sword that fell meant another sword adept had died.

The Myriad Arts Order's wards had already split open in seven or eight places.

The array masters were risking their lives trying to repair them, but they were losing the race. The damage was spreading faster than they could mend it.

More importantly, Venerable Glacier and Venerable Clarendon were still watching.

Those two old foxes hadn't made a move from beginning to end, but their host was still waiting outside the mountain gate.

Thirteen hundred fresh troops.

Their spiritual power was full, their formation was intact, and they hadn't lost a single soldier.

The moment Beastmoor Ridge and Pole Star Hall bled each other dry, they would pounce without hesitation and swallow both sides whole.

Jared could kill Venerable Starwick.

But if he did, how much strength would Beastmoor Ridge have left?

Would the people still standing here be able to hold off Glacier and Clarendon together?

He already knew the answer.

Jared called back the Dragonslayer Sword, flashed away, and broke out of his entanglement with Venerable Starwick.

He stopped in midair, chaotic force flowing around him, his violet eyes still and deep as bottomless pools.

He sent his voice to Morgana.

"Your Majesty, leave Pole Star Hall a way to live."

Morgana stood atop the mountain gate walls, dressed in white, controlling Beastmoor Ridge's ninefold ward-ring.

The instant she heard Jared's voice, her hands paused.

"What did you just say?"

"Venerable Starwick burned his blood essence. He's already gone mad. If this keeps going, Pole Star Hall will be wiped out—but Beastmoor Ridge will pay in blood too."

Jared's voice stayed level, as if he were stating something too obvious to argue with.

"Deepvault Cloister and Saintspire Court are still waiting. If Pole Star Hall dies here and Beastmoor Ridge is crippled, those two will reap everything. We can't afford that."

Morgana said nothing for two breaths.

She knew he was right.

Wellspring Order had already lost more than two hundred people. Azure Cloud Sword Order had lost more than a hundred flying swords and over seventy sword adepts. More than a dozen array masters from Myriad Arts Order were dead.

For an allied host of only two thousand, that price was already staggering.

If the fighting went on, the cost would only climb.

And the real threat was Glacier and Clarendon joining forces.

"You want to let a tiger go back to the mountain?"

"Venerable Starwick has already burned through more than half his blood essence. After this battle, his cultivation will definitely fall. He won't recover for at least several hundred years."

"A crippled Venerable Starwick is more useful than a dead one. As long as he lives, Glacier and Clarendon won't dare move against us without restraint. If he dies, Pole Star Hall's territory and resources all fall into those two old foxes' hands."

Morgana was quiet a moment, then gave a soft laugh.

"You're even better at scheming than I thought. Fine. We'll leave him a way out."

She lifted a hand and cast a sealing art.

On the left side of the square, the warding veil quietly split open.

The gap wasn't large—only ten yards wide—but it was enough for Pole Star Hall's people to break through.

Beyond the opening lay the depths of the Shrouded Wood. Past the forest were the Wastelands, and beyond the Wastelands was the direction of Pole Star Hall.

Venerable Starwick was still hunting Jared like a madman when he suddenly felt the change in the ward.

They stood on the line and watched those blood-soaked enemies run deeper and deeper into the forest, until the last trace of gold vanished into the heart of the deep forest.

Venerable Starwick was the last to leave.

At the edge of the ward-rift, he turned and looked back at Jared.

His blood-red eyes were thick with too many things to name—rage, unwillingness, humiliation.

And beneath all of it, something harder to define.

He said nothing.

Jared said nothing.

Across a hundred yards, the two of them held each other’s gaze for one brief moment.

Then Venerable Starwick turned and vanished into the Shrouded Wood.

The last adept of Pole Star Hall ran out of the square, and the ward-rift slowly sealed shut.

By the time the survivors of Pole Star Hall burst out of the Shrouded Wood, fewer than 800 were left.

The three-thousand-strong host had come in with overwhelming force.

Now only a quarter of that remained, broken and bleeding, dragging their ruined bodies across the Wastelands.

Every one of them was wounded.

Some had shattered armor. Others were missing arms or legs.

Their holy radiance had dimmed until it was almost invisible. More than half their weapons were gone.

Even Pole Star Hall's saintlight banner had been lost in the retreat.

Some supported companions with severed arms. Some used broken spears as crutches.

Some coughed blood as they walked.

Fragments of golden armor lay scattered along the way, like a broken trail of golden tears.

Venerable Starwick walked at the very front.

His golden robe had burned away completely, leaving his scar-covered chest exposed.

The backlash from burning his blood essence was beginning to show.

Half his hair had gone white. Deep wrinkles had carved themselves into his face. His steps were no longer as steady as a mountain.

With every step, stray threads of holy radiance leaked from his wounds.

A clear sign that he had burned too much blood essence, and his cultivation was no longer stable.

An hour ago, he had still stood at the peak of Golden Immortal Level Three.

Now his cultivation had already dropped to Golden Immortal Level Two, and it was still falling.