The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6003

Luck favors Jared’s route; every bend he picked lies outside the patrol patterns of the Jade Immortal Manor, and each time torches appear they slip past with inches to spare.

At last they reach the vine-choked corner wall. Jared cracks open the concealed hatch, and the group files inside before he seals the stones again.

The tunnel is damp and narrow; as they move through it, tension drains from Jared’s shoulders in slow increments.

The hardest part, the snatch itself, is done.

Getting Quentin out of a locked-down city and prying the truth from his mouth will be another fight altogether.

Still, with the man in hand, the initiative now belongs to Jared.

They emerge in the hidden chamber where Lyza and the others relocated.

Even though the group prepared themselves, the sight of Jared lugging Quentin and Luther dragging the guards leaves them speechless.

A stunned breath escapes someone at the rear. "He… he actually did it."

And not just Quentin, the manor’s Grand Chamberlain—he grabbed the man’s two trusted guards as well, all while the inner court was on full alert.

The speed and precision of the job borders on unbelievable.

"Senior… are you hurt?" Lyza asks, voice dry.

Her gaze flicks between Jared’s calm face and the limp, half-dead Quentin dangling from his grip.

"I’m fine."

With a curt flick of his wrist, Jared let go of Quentin.

The Grand Chamberlain’s body hit the stone floor with a dull thud, as if Jared had tossed out a sack of garbage.

Jared’s voice stayed flat. "Pick the most hidden, sound-proof room you have. Wake him. I’ve questions. As for these two…"

Jared’s eyes slid toward the unconscious guards Luther had dumped in the corner.

"Hold them for now," he said, the words soft but final. "They might still be useful."

"Understood!" Panther blurted, straightening so fast his shoulders snapped back.

"Deepest level’s got a custom interrogation cell, sir. Full array work. Nothing gets in or out."

Without waiting, Panther strode forward and caught Quentin under the arms.

Monkey grabbed the man’s legs. Together they lifted the limp weight and started toward the stairwell that led below.

At Jared’s side, Lyza drew a long breath, forcing the tremor out of her voice.

She turned on her heel, barking orders that kept the safehouse moving.

"Activate top-tier concealment," she called. "No one leaves."

She jabbed a finger at Panther on his return. "Circle the perimeter. Make sure we’re clean."

"Monkey, team up with Master Luther. Deal with those two," she added, nodding at the guards.

Luther’s silent tilt of the head signaled agreement.

The room split into motion. Boots scuffed, charms clicked, low voices traded confirmations.

In seconds each person had a task and a direction.

Watching them fan out, Jared felt the safehouse transform.

The ordinary walls became gears, every corridor a hidden spindle turning in perfect sync.

He pivoted toward the stairwell.

The dim passage yawned below, and he descended without hurry, Quentin’s fate already written in his mind.

Step after step, Jared weighed the coming exchange.

Dragging answers from a man like Quentin would be work, not slaughter.

He doubted mere pain would crack the Grand Chamberlain.

Julian’s wrath and the celestials’ shadow likely terrified the man more than dying ever could.

But Sidney and Cadence deserved the truth, no matter how deep it lay buried.

Quentin was the lock—and the key—standing between Jared and that truth.

The underground interrogation chamber smelled of cold iron and wet stone.

Runes crawled over every surface, their dull glow reflecting off the metal chair bolted to the floor.

Quentin sat there, arms and ankles secured by Spirit-Suppressing Chains that hummed like angry insects.

Each link pulsed, draining his mana and pricking his soul with a steady needle-thin sting meant to keep him lucid yet weak.

Jared pulled a plain wooden chair across the floor and settled in face-to-face with the captive.

Behind him, Luther stood motionless, presence as heavy as a monument.

Lyza took position at the door, eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, ready to seal the room at the first sign of trouble.

Panther returned, hefting a bucket rimmed with frost.

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