A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6534

"Get up," Jared said at last, his voice even. "You're kneeling to your ancestor, not to me. Get up and talk."

Venerable Glacier didn't rise right away.

He remained there for three breaths.

Then he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

His eyes had gone a little red.

Not from tears. Just the body's instinctive response when an old man who had lived for tens of thousands of years was shaken too hard by emotion.

He looked straight into Jared's eyes.

There was no pride there. No superiority. Just calm.

And that calm made him understand, all at once, why his ancestor had chosen to dwell inside this young man's consciousness field.

It wasn't chance.

It wasn't luck.

There was something different about Jared himself.

"Jared."

Venerable Glacier's voice steadied, but it carried a new weight. "I—"

He stopped, corrected himself. "I owe you a debt. You protected the remnant soul of the Frost Deity Branch's ancestor and kept it alive until now. The Frost Deity Branch will remember that."

"Glacier."

Venerable Clarendon's voice cut through the freezing wind.

The false warmth was gone now. What remained was cold impatience, the edge of someone who had been played one time too many. "Are you done kneeling yet?"

Venerable Glacier turned and looked at Venerable Clarendon.

Their gazes collided in midair, ice-blue frostlight and golden saintlight thrown into sharp opposition.

Across the square, hundreds of yards wide, the pressure of those two powers ground against each other until the air itself gave off a low, heavy hum.

"Clarendon."

Venerable Glacier's voice turned glacial. "You saw it. The remnant soul of the Frost Deity Branch's ancestor is in Jared's consciousness field. He protected my ancestor's remnant soul, which makes him my benefactor.

Think carefully about what Deepvault Cloister is worth before you make your next move."

The smile vanished completely from Venerable Clarendon's face.

His white robes billowed in the saintlight, and the sharply cut face that had always worn that mild, fake smile now looked as cold and hard as stone.

All ninety-nine sunstones on the sacred dais behind him lit at once.

Holy radiance poured down like a waterfall, flooding the square before the mountain gate with blinding light.

"Master Glacier." His voice dropped low, every word squeezed out through clenched teeth. "Are you betraying the celestials?"

"Betraying the celestials?"

Venerable Glacier laughed, the sound hoarse with ridicule. "Clarendon, tell me this—when did the celestials ever treat the Frost Deity Branch as one of their own?"

He took one step forward.

Bathed in the saintlight, his ice-blue robes didn't stir an inch.

"The seven celestial branches? Tell me this first—how many times had the Frost Deity Branch been pushed aside over the last tens of thousands of years?

How many cold stares did they swallow? How much injustice?

And today you wanted to talk to me about betrayal? No. I didn’t betray the celestials.

The celestials betrayed the Frost Deity Branch first."

A muscle jumped at the corner of Clarendon’s eye.

"Glacier, you’ve lost your mind. You were really going to turn against the entire celestial camp for one kid in the True Immortal Realm? For one surviving remnant of the Frost Deity Branch who crawled up from the Lower Realm?

And the 500 disciples behind you—did you think about what would happen to them?"

"I did."

Glacier’s voice was flat and still, like dead water.

"I thought it through very clearly. If you touched Jared today, you touched me.

If you touched Beastmoor Ridge, you touched Deepvault Cloister."

"You had 800 Saintspire Court disciples behind you. I had 500 disciples of Deepvault Cloister behind me. Beastmoor Ridge still had more than 1,000 fighters who could take the field.

Two forces against one.

Go on. Weigh it.

What were your odds?"

The atmosphere in the square locked solid in an instant.

When the last Saintspire Court disciple vanished into the far edge of the wasteland, the lingering holy radiance was swallowed once more by the Shrouded Wood.

At last, the suffocating pressure hanging over Beastmoor Ridge’s gatehouse dispersed.

A breeze crossed the square and thinned the heavy smell of blood.

The mountain gate creaked open, and Morgana descended from the wall.

Dust and sweat marked her white clothes. Holding the ninefold ward-ring against a 4,500-strong host for an entire day had taken a real toll.

Even for a Golden Immortal Level Three, weariness had started to show.

But her steps were still light, and a faint smile lingered in her foxlike eyes.

"Master Glacier."

She stopped in front of Venerable Glacier and gave a small nod. "Please."

Glacier looked at her, then at Jared, and finally let his gaze settle on Gwendolyn.

"Little girl, lead the way."

Gwendolyn smiled softly, then turned and walked through the mountain gate.

Half an hour later, in a side hall of Thornwild Palace at Beastmoor Ridge, they sat gathered around a stone table.

Morgana took the seat of honor.

On her left sat Jared and Gwendolyn. On her right were Wellspring, Cloudspire, and the Grand Elder of the Myriad Arts Order.

Venerable Glacier sat alone in the guest seat.

There was still blood on several sets of armor, not fully wiped clean.

Every face in the room showed strain, but not one of them said they were tired.

Venerable Glacier lifted the spirit tea in front of him, but he didn’t drink.

Steam curled from the cup in his hand while icy-blue spiritual power drifted around his fingers, cold light and rising heat clashing in a strange, silent contrast.

He looked at Gwendolyn.

Then his gaze shifted to Jared.

"There’s one more thing you need to know."

His voice had settled back into its usual calm, razor-cold tone. "Don’t think driving off Pole Star Hall today and forcing Saintspire Court to retreat means this is over."