The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5720

Beneath that light, the patriarch of Skyfiend Sect felt smaller than a mite staring up at a sky-piercing pillar.

No—smaller than dust. The gulf between their essences was absolute.

His soul-body, forged by ten millennia of forbidden rites, sizzled beneath the brilliance, melting like frost at noon.

Primal, wordless terror drowned every trace of greed and madness he had ever known.

"No—no! What is this? What unfathomable artifact is that? Mercy, Lord, have mercy!"

His new scream made the earlier howl sound like a sigh, high enough to shatter crystal.

Seizing a body, rising again—such dreams vanished. Only the raw fear of oblivion remained.

He curled into a tiny knot, shrinking from the light, his voice fluttering like a dying flame in the wind.

"S-Sir, I was blind! Spare me. I will serve you forever—hound, slave, anything—only let this wretched spark live!"

Jared's will condensed above the inner sea, a tall figure carved from starlight, his gaze winter-cold as it rested on the trembling blot below.

"Begging now, are you? Too late."

"No—there is still time, sir! I possess secrets of the ancient heavens, hidden hoards across level nine—treasures beyond imagination. Hear me out!"

Panic clawed at every word; the specter flung promises like coins, praying one might purchase its life.

"You will speak only when prompted. Now tell me, this blood pearl. What exactly is it?"

A single heartbeat later, the thought struck Jared so hard it rang in his skull.If that is true, the boundaries of death itself might be bent.

In that instant, he grasped the true worth of the Myriad-Blood Soul Orb—and finally understood how this tattered ghost of a sect founder had managed to linger on the edge of oblivion for so long.

A plan—bold, ruthless, dazzling—took shape inside him the way a blade forms inside the smith's mind before the first hammer falls.

Then, in his consciousness field, a voice erupted—shaking, ecstatic, almost weeping.

"Boy! Did you hear? Nascence soul liquid! The Myriad-Blood Soul Orb! At last—at last I might walk the world in flesh again!"

The speaker was the Vermilion Demon Lord.

To him, the promise of a reborn body—of breathing air, tasting wine, and staining his fingers with real blood—was a dream so fierce it bordered on madness.