A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6608

Ashford Hollow’s mountain gate stood wide open.

The disciples left behind lined both sides, holding azure lanterns in their hands as they sent off their Chief Preceptor to war.

The flames inside the lanterns swayed in the morning wind, washing the golden dawn in a faint blue glow.

It looked as if the entire mountain gate was offering a blessing to the army marching out.

Jared passed through the gate and stepped onto the flagstone avenue.

He moved with steady speed, every stride covering several yards, but when his feet touched down, the sound was so light it was almost nothing.

Master Vale and Gwendolyn followed close behind him.

Behind them came the three hundred disciples of Ashford Hollow.

The column raced along the flagstone road, winding through the mountains like a long green dragon.

The morning wind snapped through their robes.

At their waists, swords knocked softly against each other, the clear metallic chime carrying through the silent forest.

The Ember God Palace sat in the southeastern reaches of the Eighteenth Firmament, deep in the Cinderfall Range.

The range stretched for tens of thousands of miles, ridge after ridge, steep and dangerous.

Beneath the Cinderfall Range, nine earthfire spirit veins converged.

The fire-attributed spiritual essence was so dense it nearly took physical form, making it a perfect place to cultivate fire-based arts.

The Ember God Palace occupied the heart of the range, where the spiritual essence ran thickest.

Its estates stretched for hundreds of miles, packed with pavilions and grand halls, and the glittering palaces rose and faded inside red spiritual mist like an immortal city burning inside living fire.

A massive protective formation covered the entire Ember God Palace.

Under the sun, its spiritual barrier flashed with red-gold light, like an enormous bowl turned upside down over the whole complex.

The formation was called the Solar Pyre Dominion Array.

It was an ancient array the Ember God Palace’s forebears had spent tens of thousands of years completing, exhausting three of the nine earthfire spirit veins in the process.

Once activated, it could unleash divine fire fierce enough to burn the sky and boil the sea.

Anyone below Golden Immortal Level Five died on contact, and even those above Golden Immortal Level Five would have a hard time breaking it quickly.

At that moment, the Solar Pyre Dominion Array was already fully active.

Its red-gold barrier was several times thicker than usual, so bright it hurt to look at.

On the square before the Ember God Palace’s main hall, thousands of disciples stood in perfect formation.

Their crimson armor gleamed under the morning sun with a blood-dark sheen, and the spears, swords, and long blades in their hands flashed coldly.

Their faces were hard with killing intent, and battle fever burned in their eyes.

But deep underneath it, there was still a thread of fear they couldn’t quite hide.

Jared’s name had already spread across the entire Eighteenth Firmament.

As a True Immortal Level Eight, he had killed Lord Saintlight, a Golden Immortal Level Five, then led three hundred disciples of Ashford Hollow to crush the Hall of Radiance and slaughter its entire order.

A record like that was enough to make anyone afraid.

Aurelius stood atop the high platform, red-gold armor blazing in the sunlight.

Flame sigils covered every inch of it, each one turning slowly as it released waves of scorching heat.

In his hand, he gripped a red-gold longsword wrapped in roaring fire.

It was the Ember God Palace’s supreme treasure—the Cinder Emperor’s Blade, said to have once belonged to the ancient Cinder Emperor himself, with a remnant of that emperor’s divine will still sealed inside it.

Beside Aurelius stood a broad-shouldered middle-aged man with a hard, chiseled face.

A silver mark glinted between his brows—the high sigil of the Abyssal Exchange.

Golden Immortal Level Six.

An Inspector of the Abyssal Exchange.

Gareth.

Behind Gareth, more than thirty Abyssal Exchange cultivators stood in neat formation, all of them dressed in silver-white robes.

Every one of them was above Golden Immortal Level Three.

Not one face showed the slightest expression.

Not one pair of eyes held any emotion.

They looked like a row of frozen statues, so cold and still that only the pressure pouring off them proved they were alive.

That pressure piled together and settled over the square like an invisible mountain.

The disciples of Ember God Palace could barely breathe under it.

Aurelius wore the smug smile of a man who thought victory was already his.

Something almost showy flashed in his eyes.

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