The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5862

"A true dragon walks the world again... the age is about to change," the Frostdrake murmured. Then it withdrew into its cavern. Icy mist rolled back across the entrance, erasing every trace of the encounter.

Outside the array, Jared finally released the Golden Dragon Form. Radiance winked out. He stood human once more—face paper-white, knees buckling beneath the sudden hollow where limitless strength had raged only moments before.

Jared stood swaying in the lingering haze of power he had just unleashed. The forbidden technique and the draconic pressure he forced into the air had gouged his reserves nearly dry, and only the ironclad toughness of his body—fortified by chaotic celestial energy—kept him from collapsing outright.

"Jared!" Vermilion shouted, his crimson cloak snapping behind him as he hurried forward and caught the staggering man by the shoulders. Clara arrived a heartbeat later, silvery hair plastered to her cheeks, her eyes bright with concern while she reached instinctively for Jared's wrist to feel the faint, ragged pulse.

Lady Aurora, who had been standing at the heart of the shattered array, let her pale hand fall. The glowing sigils around the hall winked out like dying stars. From her sleeve, she drew an ice-blue pill and pressed it into Jared's palm. "Swallow it. Your strength will return quickly." Jared did not hesitate. He tipped his head back, let the pill melt on his tongue, and felt its gentle yet immense medicine flow through every vein. Warmth spread like sunrise over frozen earth. Torn meridians knitted, frayed spirit threads rewoven, and the gaping emptiness inside him filled with clean, bright energy until his death-pale skin flushed with a faint, healthy red.

He clasped his hands to his chest and bowed. "My thanks, Lady Aurora."

She brushed away his gratitude with an airy flick. Her eyes drifted to the box Jared still carried. "The Blood Lotus is yours now. Return to the palace. Rest." With that, she turned. Silk robes whispered across the corridor as she escorted Jared and the others back through the archways of Northern Abyss Palace.

When their hostess vanished into inner chambers, Jared, Vermilion, and Clara withdrew to a quiet annex, a place of low lamps and cedar incense, to collect themselves.

Vermilion hugged the box to his chest, hands trembling so hard the lid rattled. Within lay the blood lotus—first real shard of hope after endless darkness. For him, that single bloom was dawn breaking across a night that had nearly swallowed them.

"Jared, the debt is beyond words," Vermilion said, then bent in a deep bow, the kind that set his crimson mantle sweeping over the stones. "If Selene is saved, it will be by your hand. I will remember this till my last breath. Whatever you ask of me—no matter the danger—I will answer."

"No, you overstate it. Selene's fate is bound to mine. The lotus is only the first step. We still need Jadeheart Marrow and the Nine-Orifice Divine Soul Herb. We'll keep moving."

Vermilion nodded gravely. "The Jadeheart Marrow lies in level eleven, the Nine-Orifice Divine Soul Herb in the Twelfth. Both are rarer than the lotus and twice as well guarded. Jared—what will you do next?"

"First, level eleven," Jared answered without hesitation, his eyes steady as tempered steel. "Not only for Jadeheart Marrow. I have scores to settle there—wrongs I've carried too long." He thought of Soul Devourer, a shadow that still hung over every quiet moment. And of Malevolent Path Hall, where the spirits of Flaxseed's kin awaited justice.

At Jared's words, Clara's lashes flickered, a shimmer of reluctance passing through her pale eyes. She knew his road stretched far beyond the world her present strength could touch.

"Jared... please—be careful out there," she whispered, the words almost lost in the hush of incense.

"Clara, you take care as well. Mystic Sky Sword Sect still needs you, and Mr. Cloudridge needs your steadiness. Cultivate hard. When I finish things in level eleven, I may yet return to level ten."

She nodded fiercely, though light caught in her eyes like water trembling on glass.

Catching the intimacy of the moment, Vermilion cleared his throat and drifted to a far corner, pretending intense study of the blood lotus.

Jared drew Clara into his arms. In the quiet glow of moon-lamps, they joined their breathing, guiding their energies in the ancient art of paired cultivation. Every pulse of shared essence felt like a promise—because neither knew when fate would let them meet again. Clara met the moment with rare boldness, answering his touch with a fervor born of looming farewell. Dawn bled into dusk and again into dawn. At last, spent yet peaceful, Clara drifted into sleep against his shoulder, breath slow, smile soft.

Jared drew the Northern Abyssal Token from his sleeve and held it at eye level, as though a single glance might reveal every secret locked inside the ancient piece of artifact. The surface felt colder than winter water. It was neither metal nor gem, yet carried the patient weight of both. Across the front, the lone character for "Abyss" cut a bold, serpentine path, each brushstroke humming with threads of glacial law. He turned it over. On the reverse bloomed a labyrinth of interlocking snowflake sigils—an arcane recognition array waiting for the right hand to awaken it. "With this token," he murmured, voice low but steady, "I will at least have one safe foothold in level eleven." He slipped it inside his inner coat, as carefully as a priest sheathing a relic.

Half a day later, Clara sat upright again, her breath no longer ragged. Color warmed her cheeks, and the silver frost that once rimmed her lashes had fully melted away.

Jared rose in one fluid motion. "No point delaying," he said, every word crisp with resolve. "First, we escort Clara back to Mystic Sky Sword Sect. Then we carve a tunnel through the void and climb to level eleven."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify