The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5962

Jared shot Vermilion Demon Lord a long, flat stare, the kind reserved for old friends who refused to behave.

Then he exhaled through his nose; any protest would only feed the demon lord’s theatrics.

A harsh voice cracked across the clearing, slicing through the momentary lull.

"Brats, you’re far too cocky. Today the Shadowkill Trio will teach you how real assassins play."

Jared angled his shoulders toward the sound, skin prickling at the threat yet oddly calm inside the pulse of coming violence.

Before he could blink, three silhouettes broke from the treeline and shot forward in the same breath.

They moved as though drawn by one wire, no stagger, no pause.

Space hiccupped—no trailing blur, no warning.

In the next heartbeat the trio materialized at Jared’s flank, six toxin-coated blade arcs flicking toward every vital inch like serpent tongues.

Not even the rush of air announced them; whatever secret art they used swallowed the wind itself.

Against ordinary cultivators, that silence would have been a death sentence delivered before the victim knew a trial was underway.

Too bad for them, Jared thought, they had chosen the wrong audience.

"Party tricks," Vermilion Demon Lord cackled. "Jared, don’t finish them too quick. Draw it out—I want a good show."

His delight flared in Jared’s peripheral vision like a torch.

Jared dipped his chin once, the smallest promise.

Then the ground bent beneath his step and he broke forward, body loosening into motion the way ink spreads through water.

He let his sword rest, raised only his right hand, and extended his forefinger toward the dark.

A speck of colorless light bloomed at the fingertip, so faint it could have been dust catching a stray beam.

Yet the moment it appeared, Jared felt the world tilt around it, as if every nearby thing suddenly remembered a hunger to be devoured.

Light, sound, even the qi in the air bent inward, funneling toward that grain of gray.

The six poisoned arcs lost their aim, veering helplessly toward the point like iron filings dragged by a hidden magnet.

"What in the abyss is that?" the lead attacker shrieked, awe strangling his voice.

He had never witnessed a technique that warped trajectory itself; terror spat lines of cold sweat down his neck.

Jared did not bother to answer; his body was already an afterimage chasing itself.

The finger dropped; his palm turned over, five fingers curling as if seizing an invisible sphere.

"Chaos Origin—Return to the Void." The words left him quietly, less a shout than a verdict.

A dull thunder answered, pounding the air flat.

Centered on the gray mote, a whirl of ashen light a dozen feet wide tore open and drank greedily.

The stolen blade light vanished first, shredded to nothing; then the three black-robed men lurched, their protective aura strobing as the vortex tugged at bone and soul.

"Form the Nether Shadow Triad Array—now!" the lead figure barked, terror sharpening into discipline.

Their outlines blurred into three ropes of black mist, weaving around one another, trading places in a frantic attempt to outrun the pull.

He caught the hiss first, then the air turned into a glittering storm—needles no thicker than a strand of hair, all of them slick and black, all of them coming for every exposed inch of him.

"Inventive," Jared murmured, letting the mockery hang in the poisoned air.

He pinched a quick seal with his left hand; the half-formed chaotic force inside him surged forward, pouring through his palm until it fanned out in front of him as a translucent shield laced with four shifting colors.

The incoming needles met the barrier with a sizzling hiss that scraped across his teeth.

Each dart sank into the shield as if into deep water; not even a ripple escaped before the chaotic aura chewed them apart and swallowed the shards.

"My turn," he said, the words clicking like ice between his teeth.

Frosted light flashed in his eyes as he uncurled his right hand, fingers peeling away from an invisible grip.

The gray vortex hovering there didn’t explode outward; it snapped inward, collapsing until it became a pitch-black point no larger than a clenched knuckle.

A low, bone-deep hum rattled the air.

The singularity winked out, and an unseen wave sheared across the arena faster than thought, faster even than spirit sense could track.

A ragged scream tore from somewhere inside the black smoke.

Wet coughing followed, too thick not to be blood.

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