A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6553

Sure enough, after about another half hour, more than half the demonic cultivators were dead or wounded, and even the Lava Lion King had taken serious damage. Its left eye was completely blind now, and in several places its scales had been burned through by the primal fire, exposing raw flesh underneath that smoked black in the morning light.

It was powerful, but it was still one beast against twenty.

And the demons’ primal fire really could hurt it. After grinding through that kind of fight for so long, even the Lava Lion King was running on fumes.

Jared saw that its speed had dropped sharply from the start of the battle, and the flames in its mouth no longer burned with the same savage intensity.

It had started looking for a way out.

More than once it tried to break through and flee, and each time the demonic cultivators threw themselves in front of it and forced it back.

The bald giant was drenched in blood, his left arm hanging limp at his side.

It was obviously broken.

His war axe was slick with the Lava Lion King’s dark golden blood. The blade was chipped and rolled, but he still planted himself in front of the beast and refused to give an inch.

"Brothers!"

His voice came out hoarse but steady. "Just hold on a little longer! That bastard won’t last much longer! Once we kill it and take the beast core, we can—"

He never got to finish.

A cold voice suddenly rang out from above the valley basin.

"Then what?"

The bald giant jerked his head up, his pupils contracting hard.

Above the rock wall, a dozen or so figures slowly rose to their feet and looked down over the valley basin from on high.

It was the same group Jared had run into outside Rookfire.

At their head stood a middle-aged man in crimson arcane robes, a crimson short blade hanging at his waist. His face was severe, and at the center of his brow, a golden flame-mark caught the morning light and flashed.

It was the mark of the Flame Deity Branch.

The bald giant recognized it.

His face turned instantly ashen.

"People from the Flame God Palace." His voice came out through clenched teeth, every word steeped in bone-deep hatred.

"Flame God Palace?"

The middle-aged man let out a cold, mocking laugh. "It’s the Ember God Palace. In the Eighteenth Firmament, the true orthodoxy of the Flame Deity Branch is the Ember God Palace, not some 'Flame God Palace.' You little demon whelps can’t even remember the name, and you still dare come onto our land to hunt demon beasts?"

His gaze swept across the valley basin, over the fallen and mangled demonic cultivators, then to the battered Lava Lion King.

The corner of his mouth lifted in satisfaction.

"Not bad. Very not bad.

You saved us a lot of effort."

The bald giant tightened his grip on the war axe, the dark crimson sigil-lines on his forehead standing out even more sharply with rage. "We found this prey first. We struck first. If you want to steal the fruit at the end, you’d better ask my axe if it agrees."

"Your axe?"

The middle-aged man glanced at the chipped war axe in the bald giant’s hand with naked contempt. "A Golden Immortal Level Two demon whelp, dragging around a pack of crippled survivors, thinks he gets to bargain with me?"

He paused, and his voice turned abruptly cold. "This is the territory of our Ember God Palace. You demonic cultivators dared trespass here and hunt demon beasts on your own.

That alone is a capital crime.

"So now I’m giving you two choices—either drop your weapons, surrender, and come back with me to the Ember God Palace for judgment. Or..."

He drew the crimson short blade from his waist.

Golden saintlight flame exploded across the blade in an instant. "You die here. Right now."

"What a load of horseshit!"

A young cultivator behind the bald giant couldn’t hold it in anymore and spat the words out. "Since when did everything within ten thousand miles become Ember God Palace territory? A dump like Rookfire is one thing—you can throw your weight around there if you want. But out here in the middle of nowhere? What gives you the right to call the shots?"

The middle-aged man’s eyes settled on the young cultivator like he was already looking at a corpse.

"Why?"

He smiled.

There was no warmth in it at all.

"Because we're celestials, and you're demons. When celestials kill demons, that's only natural. What other reason would we need?"

Before the last word had even settled, the dozen-plus cultivators behind him drew their short blades as one.

Golden saintlight flame surged down the steel, flooding the entire valley basin with harsh light.

The demon cultivators instinctively gave ground, pulling back a step as they shielded their wounded behind them.

The dozen-plus cultivators behind him burst into motion at the same time, leaping down from the rock wall and diving straight at the demon cultivators in the valley basin.

Golden saintlight flame crashed into dark red primal fire in midair, and the collision erupted with deafening explosions.

The two flames were natural opposites.

Every impact triggered violent spiritual power shockwaves, each clash detonating like a small spiritual explosion and blasting the surrounding air apart.

Jared and Gwendolyn stayed hidden behind a distant pile of broken rock, watching the battle between celestials and demons unfold in silence.

Gwendolyn's hand never left her sword hilt.

Her fingers had gone white with force.

She wasn't looking for a chance to help.

She was readying herself for any attack that might spill over onto them.

"Who do you think wins?" she asked under her breath.

"The celestials," Jared said.

"Why? The demons may be fewer, but individually they're stronger. That bald guy is Golden Immortal Level Two. Their leader is only at the peak of Golden Immortal Level One."

"This isn't about raw strength."

Jared shook his head.

"It's about condition. The demons have already been fighting the Lava Lion King for a long time. More than half of them are dead or wounded, they're running on empty, and their spiritual power is almost gone. The celestials came in fresh and untouched. Even if each one is weaker, they can still bury the demons under sheer numbers and grind them to death."

His gaze settled on the center of the battlefield.

There, the bald giant and the middle-aged man were locked in a brutal clash.

Golden Immortal Level Two really was a minor level above the middle-aged man's peak Golden Immortal Level One.

But the bald giant was injured, his left arm was gone, and more than half his spiritual power had already been spent. Every swing of his axe looked heavier than the last, as if the strength just wasn't there anymore.

The middle-aged man, on the other hand, was still in perfect fighting shape.

The saintlight flame on his short blade burned fierce and steady, and his bladework was sharp and precise, every strike aimed at a vital point.

With one side weakening and the other pressing harder, the bald giant gradually fell behind.