A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6757

The change began on the fourth night.

At first, only a single thread of extremely faint black nether energy seeped from the edge of the fissure. Like a silent breath, it was almost invisible in the muted red light.

That thread crept slowly up the rock wall, writhing like a tiny black snake.

Soon came a second, a third, then a 10th... More and more nether energy poured from the fissure. It gushed out like spring water suppressed for 10,000 years that had finally found an opening.

It was unlike the nether energy native to the Nether Abyss. Far denser and more violent, it carried an ancient, decaying power that sought to devour everything.

The force spread in every direction with the hunger and greed of a venomous serpent awakening after 10,000 years of sleep.

Black frost formed across every section of rock it touched. Like dark moss, the icy growth covered the stone and emitted faint sizzling noises.

The light of the nether flames dimmed and wavered like candles flickering in the wind.

Even the air grew viscous, as though filled with invisible glue. Every breath felt obstructed by a heavy mass lodged in the lungs.

"Mr. Chance, look!"

Ghost Seven called urgently from the rope bridge above. "Nether energy is spilling out of the fissure!"

Jared rose and turned his violet gaze upon the fissure.

It was no longer a placid slit black as ink. Black nether energy continually bled from its edges as though it were an enormous open wound.

The energy churned in the air, spreading farther in every direction.

The wraithgrass around the fissure withered before their eyes. Its blades curled and blackened, then dissolved into dark fluid that seeped into the ground.

The disturbance drew Ghost Clan cultivators out in ever greater numbers.

They poured from their caverns and crowded onto every rope bridge, stone staircase, and platform with room to stand.

Their gazes remained fixed on the fissure. The ease that had only just returned to their faces was smothered once more by fear.

"Nether energy... There's so much of it..."

"This eruption came faster than any before, and it's more violent!"

"Mr. Chance promised to take care of the fissure. Why is this still happening?"

"We're finished... If only the Abyssal Lord were here..."

"Maybe he can't handle it at all. Were we deceived?"

Panic seeped through the gathering as quickly as ink dispersing through a bowl of clear water.

Some cultivators began edging backward without realizing it, their panicked steps shaking the rope bridges.

Others gripped their magical artifacts so tightly that their knuckles whitened.

Some prayed under their breath, lips moving at a frantic pace.

Others looked helplessly around, like travelers stranded by a blizzard that had struck without warning.

The Ghost Clan cultivators had enjoyed only a few carefree days before the same ancient fear seized their hearts again.

They had believed they could escape the prison of fate, only to see darkness lunge through the first narrow gap in its newly opened door.

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