The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5909

"Sharp-tongued whelp!" the stone visage snarled.

The emerald flames dancing in its hollow eyes flared, testifying to his murderous rage.

"Were it not for my injuries leaving me at less than a tenth of my true strength, I would have crushed your bones to ash back on level nine and extracted your soul to temper it! How dare you utter such bold words in my presence today!"

"Injuries still unhealed?" Jared sneered. "I have watched you squat here, siphoning every thread of toxic flame the abyss can breed. Be honest—your strength has returned more than you admit. Still, this molten pit is the perfect kennel for foul things that fear the light."

Soul Devourer hesitated, a wordless pause that rattled the cavern.

The twin emerald flames locked on Jared, as though longing to swallow him alive.

Then the rock-hewn countenance warped into an even more chilling smile.

"Clever boy—you guessed correctly," he hissed.

"Earthcore Demonic Flame is of supreme heat and positive energy, which is indeed a bane to all you self-proclaimed righteous cultivators. Yet all things have a balance somewhere, and at the very core of this supreme positive realm, the purest ultimate negative energy is born. For a wounded soul like mine, such negative energy is nectar. I have lain dormant here for three months, drawing it day and night. And now, I have restored seventy percent of my strength."

Soul Devourer's words continued to drip with unrestrained pride and the thrill of impending revenge. "Tell me, Jared—does this not prove the justice of Heavenly Law, the inevitability of retribution? You chased me into a dead end, yet you yourself delivered me to this paradise. Today, I will reclaim everything, principal and interest!"

No sooner had the last word fallen than a thunderous crack split the air.

Boom!

The wall that carried the monstrous face ruptured from within, as though something colossal were hatching.

Shards of super-heated rock rained outward, sparking against the cavern and filling the abyss with hissing steam.

Through the smoke strode a figure that made the heart quail.

Twice the height of a man, its body was sheathed in black-and-crimson scales that glistened like fresh blood fused with molten stone.

From his brow sprouted a pair of backward-curving horns, each ridge threaded with sluggish rivers of dark-crimson light.

Behind him, six monumental wings unfurled like obscene banners. Their membranes were neither hide nor flesh but a trembling alloy of matter and force, and along every trailing edge black-red flames whispered, licking the stale air.

Now, the face that loomed before them, freed from the cliff's crude illusion, was cruelly clear—and clarity only deepened its madness.

Those infamous eyes of ghost-lit green had become twin wells, bottomless and wintry, and even the briefest glance from them iced over the viewer's soul and locked every muscle into place.

Then the aura hit—tangible dread forged in the High Immortal Realm, crashing out like a typhoon made of mountains. It rolled across the plateau unchecked, drowning every stone and heartbeat beneath its awful weight.

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