The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5957

Inside the tower, years had slipped by like silent water, unnoticed except for the extra weight in Jared’s bones and the deeper hush in the surrounding chaotic aura.

A breath later, his eyes snapped open, the gesture so sudden that the stillness cracked as though someone had struck a gong in a monastery just before dawn.

Soundless thunder rolled from inside his body, not through air but through the weave of energy itself, rattling the bronze ribs of the Pentacarna Tower.

The chaotic aura that hung inside the tower skittered away from him, coiling against the walls in restless waves, as though the building had suddenly remembered that it could drown.

Light gathered in his pupils, wet and star-deep, and for an instant four muted colors—ash, prism, molten gold, pale gold—flickered across the black like sparks that knew too many secrets.

The ragged hole that once gaped in his chest had sealed without scar; skin lay smooth and luminous, as if glazed porcelain had borrowed the warmth of living flesh.

On the back of his right hand, the intertwined sigils of the five elements and earth-fire showed sharper lines, no longer inked but seemingly baked into bone before he was born.

In his core, the Origin Star spun broader and heavier—one third larger than when he first staggered into the tower—its four colors braiding into a newborn dawn that promised both creation and extinction.

The force leaking from that star already dwarfed the ceiling of a typical Top Level Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Five expert.

His cultivation remained pinned at that visible peak, yet the fusion of the four forces, tempered by a death-and-rebirth crucible, had bent his combat strength into something unmeasured.

Even the backlash from drawing the Divine Bow had faded; the right arm that once trembled now felt eager, almost insulted by the earlier weakness.

“Time’s up,” he murmured, the words landing softly but carrying the inevitability of a closing gate.

His body blurred, and the next heartbeat placed him outside the Pentacarna Tower’s stone threshold.

At the cavern mouth, Vermilion Demon Lord, who had been guarding since Jared entered, felt the shift first and snapped his gaze toward the tower.

Sensing the quiet storm coiled beneath Jared’s restrained aura, the demon lord’s eyes flared bright.

"You are whole again? No—stronger!" he blurted, disbelief and relief tangling together.

Jared inclined his head, offered no details, and walked with Vermilion Demon Lord toward the stone pavilion that anchored the valley’s center.

Aurelian, Blaine, Oswald, and the remaining allies hurried over.

The moment they saw the light in Jared’s posture, exhaustion peeled from their faces like winter snow under early sun.

Aurelian stopped closest.

"Jared, how are you feeling?" His voice rushed out, the question shivering on the edge of fear and hope.

"No serious damage remains," Jared said.

The plain statement felt like an iron nail hammered straight through the group’s collective dread.

He let his gaze move across them.

Even after a month of rest, hollows still bruised most eyes, and each aura leaked fatigue; few had clawed back half their strength.

"Seniors, comrades, there is one thing." The syllables dropped slow, deliberate, like stones disturbing still water.

Conversation stilled; every gaze fixed on him, waiting for the stone to hit bottom.

"I intend to pay Malevolent Path Hall a visit," Jared said, the calm in his tone somehow louder than any battle cry.

The first shout—sharp, disbelieving—ricocheted through the pavilion and rattled beneath Jared’s ribs before he could answer.

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