The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5905

"Great Elder Earthfire, how did you learn any of this?" Jared asked, forcing his breath to steady.

A ghost of memory flickered behind Gerald's ember-bright eyes. "Many years ago, I descended to the deepest vault of the Chthonic Abyss. Down there... I saw things no living soul was meant to see. It was an ancient ruin, every wall etched with records of the Door of Reincarnation. The instant I understood those carvings, a terror beyond death knifed through me—the dread of a presence that defies all reason. I tried to wipe the murals away, hoping ignorance might shield whoever followed, yet the moment the last stroke vanished, I was struck by the Earthcore Demonic Flame. In that battle, my body burst apart, my divine soul was shredded, and only one ragged wisp managed to crawl back to the world above."

Jared's heartbeat slammed against his ribs as the tale unfolded.

The Door of Reincarnation... The real mastermind behind Malevolent Path Hall... So there's more to it than meets the eye, huh?

The idea stretched far past the borders of everything he thought he knew.

Jared drew a deep breath. "So, you're saying our real enemy isn't Malevolent Path Hall itself, but whatever power is behind the Door of Reincarnation?"

"Yes, you could say that," Gerald replied. "But to reach those beings, we must first erase Malevolent Path Hall and shatter the Door. Otherwise, they will resurrect warriors without end, and we will drown in the tide."

Resolve flashed in Jared's eyes. "Then we wipe out Malevolent Path Hall first and grind the Door of Reincarnation to dust!"

"Spoken like a man of courage," Gerald said, a spark of approval kindling in his gaze. "Yet with our present strength, we are nowhere near ready. The entities behind that Door may have surpassed the High Immortal Realm and stepped into the True Immortal Realm—or higher."

"True Immortal Realm..." Jared muttered to himself.

That was a realm of legend, and perhaps not even a single cultivator in all of the twelve levels had reached it.

"That is why our priority is to restore my physical body," Gerald continued. "At my peak, I had one foot on High Immortal Realm Level Three. If I can reclaim even a fraction of that power, I can buy you precious time."

Jared gave a solemn nod. "I understand. Tell me what you need, and I will see it done."

A glint of sharpness flashed in Gerald's eyes. "Continue using the Pentacarna Tower to help refine my soul, and at the same time, I will teach you the ninth level of the Earthfire True Scripture—Earthfire Heavenburn Technique. I created this technique when I first touched the threshold of the High Immortal Realm. Its power is boundless. If you can master it, you'll at least stand a chance against Malcolm in battle."

Jared's eyes lit up. "Thank you, Great Elder Earthfire!"

Gerald waved his hand. "No need to thank me. We are on the same boat now. The stronger you become, the greater our chances of survival."

He paused, suddenly sensing something, his expression darkening. "Oh, no..."

"What is it?" Jared asked.

"The Door of Reincarnation has been opened," Gerald replied, his voice low and grave. "And on a large scale, too. Looks like Malcolm is truly angry now."

***

Meanwhile, back at Malevolent Path Hall's headquarters in level twelve, an ocean of blood churned beneath the vaulted chamber, and countless wraiths rose wailing from its crimson waves.

Malcolm stood upon that violent tide, motionless, his expression carved from obsidian as he stared into the distance.

Before him loomed a jet-black stone gate, more than three hundred feet high, its colossal frame blotting out what little light seeped through the blood-mist.

The gate's ancient panels remained sealed, yet their surfaces writhed with twisted runes—symbols that squirmed like living worms, each pulse releasing a dread that squeezed the heart.

This was the fabled Door of Reincarnation itself, a passage mortals were never meant to behold.

At that moment, one hundred thousand bound souls knelt in neat ranks before the gate.

Plucked from every faction—young and old, men and women alike—they wore the ashen pallor of the dead, their eyes drowning in despair.

Malevolent Path Hall had harvested them in recent days, herding the captives here to serve as living offerings for the gate's awakening.

Ordinarily, as long as a cultivator's soul endured, hope remained—whether to forge a new body or seize another.

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