The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5975

Jared’s gaze hardened to flint.

He lifted two fingers, aligned them, and traced a single, indifferent line through the air.

The hiss of severed flesh cut the wind, a wet whistle that still rang in Jared’s ears as the sword completed its arc.

Malcolm’s head spun upward, haloed by his own blood, while the torso dropped like a stone through the misted air.

Even in death that face clung to its deranged grin, as if refusing to accept the verdict Jared had just pronounced.

A High Immortal Level Three, Lord of the Malevolent Path Hall—gone, severed by a single stroke that still trembled in Jared’s wrist.

The mountain gate hovered inside a silence so thick Jared almost mistook it for deafness; nothing moved, nothing breathed, as if the world waited to see whether its own heart still beat.

Below, more than ten thousand cultivators stared at the drifting ash and the headless corpse, then at Jared’s floating silhouette, their eyes glazed with the shock of animals watching fire for the first time.

Someone mouthed a question, barely more than breath. "Dead?" The syllable fluttered upward and vanished.

Then the realization ran through the crowd like lightning through dry timber—two High Immortal overlords, Malevolent Path Hall and Ninefold Nether Palace both, wiped away by a youth still short of the highest realm.

This was no duel; it was slaughter.

A higher order crushing a lower, the way a heel meets dust.

The concept shrank their thoughts to sparks that fizzled out before taking shape.

One figure folded to his knees, palms slapped against the stone.

That single collapse triggered a ripple; in the span of a heartbeat the field became a sea of bent backs, bodies dropping like dominoes knocked by an unseen hand.

Stench rose as terror loosened bowels; some shook so violently their teeth rattled, the noise tiny and pathetic against the vast quiet.

"Spare us, Senior—spare us!" Voices overlapped until words became a single wail.

"Malevolent Path forced us! We will turn, we swear!"

"Mercy, Senior, mercy!" The air vibrated with sobs, each plea scraping Jared’s skin like grit.

The hall’s remaining elders wore faces bleached of color; one collapsed where he stood, others drifted backward, toes searching for any path away from this waking nightmare.

Only then did Aurelian, Blaine, and Oswald recover enough to breathe.

They stared at Jared’s back the way sailors stare at a horizon they once believed unreachable—eyes bright with awe, damp with fear, wild with a sudden, unearned hope.

Joy wrestled with disbelief inside each of them, leaving their expressions oddly hollow.

Barely a month ago Jared had hidden behind them, counting breaths while Gerald burned his life to shield him.

Now he stood on the twelfth level’s summit, and with a casual flick erased the giants they once looked up to.

Faces below him hung open, their terror and wonder mixing into the same helpless stare.

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