A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6661

Master Veridian frowned the moment the smell reached him.

"This stench... I hate it. Feels like we are walking into some cursed demon pit."

Jared nodded.

"We should be close. The border of the Southern Wasteland Demon Marches is ahead. Demonic Cultivators gather in this area."

Sure enough, after another four hours on the road, a small city appeared before them.

The city was not large. Its walls had been built from huge blocks of black stone, and cold demonic runes crawled across the surface, releasing a faint, eerie pressure.

No guards stood at the gate.

Cultivators came and went as they pleased. Some had black baleful energy wrapped around them. Some had red light glowing in their eyes. Some had demonic markings spread across their faces, making them look especially fierce.

This was a Demonic Cultivator city.

The moment Jared's group arrived at the gate, countless eyes turned toward them.

Suspicion.

Hostility.

Assessment.

A black-robed Demonic Cultivator walked over and looked them over.

"Human cultivators? What are you doing here?"

Jared cupped his hands.

"We are passing through. We want to rest for a day and buy some supplies."

The Demonic Cultivator's gaze paused on Master Veridian first, then moved over Gwendolyn and the young acolyte. After a short silence, he nodded.

"You can enter, but do not cause trouble. The Southern Wasteland Demon Marches do not welcome human cultivators. If you start anything here, you deal with the consequences yourself."

"We are only passing through," Jared said calmly. "We will not cause trouble."

The Demonic Cultivator turned away.

Jared led the others into the city.

The streets inside were narrow and winding. Buildings on both sides were made from rough black stone, old and heavy in style. Dark-red crystals had been set into the windows, casting a cold glow over the lanes.

Demonic Cultivators stood in small groups along the street.

Some talked in low voices.

Some set up stalls.

Some were fighting deep in the alleys, their demonic energy clashing in dull bursts.

Baleful aura and demonic energy mixed together, making the air feel heavy.

Jared looked across the crowd, and his brows tightened.

He sensed something familiar.

Sigil-bane aura.

It came from the Hadad Descent's cultivation method.

Hadad had personally taught Jared that secret art. Jared knew its aura far too well. The traces on these Demonic Cultivators were faint, but the source was unmistakably the same.

Gwendolyn noticed the change in his expression.

"What did you find?"

"These people may have ties to the Hadad Descent," Jared said quietly. "Their cultivation aura comes from the same root as my sigil-bane aura."

Gwendolyn's eyes sharpened.

"So Hadad's people may also be in the Southern Wasteland Demon Marches?"

"Possibly. The Hadad Descent and the Inferno Devil Descent are both ancient demonic path legacies. It would not be strange if they had some connection."

Master Veridian leaned in.

"Mr. Chance, you know Hadad?"

"There is some history," Jared said, without going further. "Let's find somewhere to stay first. We will rest for the day."

They found a small inn in the city.

The man looked impatient at first, but when he saw Gwendolyn beside Jared, his tone softened a little.

"You are not from here, right? Our city has an ancient Demonic Bow. They say it was left behind by a demonic ancestor. No one has been able to draw it for thousands of years. Someone pulled it today, and even the City Lord was alerted."

After saying that, the man hurried off toward the square.

Jared and Gwendolyn exchanged a look.

"Want to see it?" she asked.

"Yes," Jared said. "I want to know what kind of bow it is."

They followed the crowd to the central square.

The square was wide and already packed with people. At a glance, more than a thousand Demonic Cultivators had gathered, surrounding the center so tightly that almost no gap remained.

In the middle stood a black stone platform.

It was about thirty feet high, with a flat top.

Two people stood on it.

One was a young man in his twenties. He wore black combat clothes, with sharp, handsome features and open pride between his brows.

In his hand was a long black bow.

The bow was pitch-black from end to end. Dense dark-red demonic runes covered its body, and thick sigil-bane aura rolled out from it.

The bowstring was dark red, as if refined from the tendon of a powerful demon beast. Under the dim yellow sky, it gave off a cold sheen.

The young Demonic Cultivator's face was flushed with excitement. He held the bow high, as if displaying the greatest treasure in the world.

Beside him sat a middle-aged man in a refined black robe. Golden demonic patterns had been embroidered on his cuffs and collar, giving him a dignified air.

His face was stern.

His eyes shone like lightning.

His aura was deep and heavy.

A Golden Immortal Level Eight expert.