A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6537

Meanwhile, Beastmoor Ridge, Pentacarna Tower.

One day had passed outside the tower.

Inside, a hundred days had gone by.

Deep within the ninth layer of Pentacarna Tower, Jared sat cross-legged, surrounded by thick coils of violet chaotic force.

The injuries he had suffered in that battle with Starwick had completely healed. The cracks in his meridians were gone, and every trace of the scorching holy radiance had been burned away by the chaos-flame.

Not only had his spiritual power recovered to full strength, it had become purer than it had been before the fight.

The mountain of emberstone crystals piled in front of him had already been more than half consumed. Tens of thousands of crystals had been drained dry and turned into pale gray powder that blanketed the tower floor, so thick it crunched underfoot like snow.

Thousands of healing elixirs had been fully refined, their medicinal power devoured by the chaotic force, transformed, and absorbed into his meridians.

The resources he had swallowed up in those hundred days were enough to carry an ordinary True Immortal cultivator all the way to the peak of True Immortal Realm Level Nine.

But for someone cultivating chaotic force, all of that had only pushed him from True Immortal Realm Level Seven, beginner-phase, to True Immortal Realm Level Seven, middle-phase.

The chaotic force demanded an absurd amount of resources.

Every breakthrough took dozens, sometimes even a hundred times more spiritual power than it would for cultivators at the same level.

But the return matched the cost.

His combat strength stood far above anyone of equal rank.

At True Immortal Realm Level Seven, Jared could already meet a peak Golden Immortal Level Three head-on and not give an inch.

Jared opened his eyes and came out of meditation.

A sharp glint flashed through his violet eyes.

His cultivation had only risen by a minor realm, but the chaotic force inside him had grown denser than before. Every strand of spiritual power felt like divine iron hammered and refined a thousand times over, packed with strength that was almost hard to fathom.

The Aureate Codex's warding sigils had thickened under the nourishment of that spiritual power as well. Golden dragon sigils now covered sixty percent of his skin, and the day they spread across all of him would be the day the Arch-Immortal Body reached completion.

He rose and walked out of the Pentacarna Tower.

Outside, on the square at Beastmoor Ridge, everyone was waiting for him.

Master Wellspring had already returned to full strength, and faint remnants of spiritual radiance still clung to his graying hair and beard from his own time inside the Pentacarna Tower.

Cloudspire's flying swords had all been reforged. Thousands of blades hung behind him, their sword-light brighter than it had been before the battle.

The array masters of the Myriad Arts Order had repaired every ward, then used materials taken from the Celestial Alliance treasury to lay down several new killing arrays.

Most important of all, Venerable Glacier had brought five hundred disciples from Deepvault Cloister, and they had already been folded into Beastmoor Ridge's battle formation.

Ice-blue robes mixed with the armored ranks of Beastmoor Ridge's cultivators, creating a sight no one there would have imagined not long ago.

At first, the disciples of the Frost Deity Branch had been a little stiff. It was only natural—these people had once been enemies, and now they were suddenly allies.

But the disciples of Wellspring Order had taken the initiative, walking over to talk, sharing spirit-wine and healing elixirs, and the distance between them had broken down fast.

The moment Jared stepped out of the Pentacarna Tower, everyone stopped what they were doing and rose as one.

Master Wellspring cupped his fists. Cloudspire gave a quiet nod. The Grand Elder of the Myriad Arts Order bowed slightly.

Venerable Glacier stood at the very front, his ice-blue robe snapping in the wind. He looked at Jared for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

Jared let his gaze sweep across every cultivator in the square.

Morgana held the center, commanding Beastmoor Ridge's beastfolk warriors and the Myriad Arts Order's array masters, ready to reinforce any front the instant it faltered.

Venerable Glacier led Deepvault Cloister around the left flank, moving to cut off Pole Star Hall's retreat.

The three armies drove toward Pole Star Hall like three blades, fast and merciless.

Every outer redoubt along the way was ripped out with crushing ease.

Their garrisons had already lost their nerve after the main force collapsed, and under the pressure of the three-pronged assault, they couldn't even mount a real defense before they broke.

The few who tried to resist were shredded by Wellspring Order's sword arrays, pinned to death by Azure Cloud Sword Order's flying swords, or frozen into statues by Deepvault Cloister's frost power.

Pole Star Hall's main seat stood at the far eastern edge of the Seventeenth Firmament.

A mountain ten thousand feet high rose behind it, and most of that mountain had been hollowed out into labyrinthine underground vaults.

At the front stood nine towering spires in a single line, their bodies forged from starfall metal, saintlight flames burning eternally at their peaks.

A thirty-thousand-year foundation. Once the strongest power in the Seventeenth Firmament.

Now all that remained was eight hundred battered survivors, huddled inside that cold stone hall.

Venerable Starwick stood atop the tallest tower and watched the army in the distance draw closer and closer.

His eyes were webbed with blood. His teeth ground so hard they clicked.

He'd expected Jared to come. What he hadn't expected was this—this fast. How long had it even been?

A few days?

The cultivators of Beastmoor Ridge hadn't just recovered from their injuries. They had somehow absorbed Deepvault Cloister's strength and come for Pole Star Hall on the offensive.