The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6012

With a buoyant heart and a faint, sugary thrill, Rania left the Guest Reception Annex, her thoughts too full of Mr. Chance to wonder further about Quentin’s hurried departure.

Meanwhile, deep within the Hall of Infinity, the air carried a very different charge.

Black-jade floors, white-jade pillars, and a domed ceiling studded with night-luminous pearls cast a cold glow across the vast chamber.

On a broad throne carved from a single slab of star-iron sat Julian, garbed in a purple-gold dragon robe and jade crown, his steady gaze alight with restrained power.

Julian sat tall on the star-iron throne. The skin at his temples stayed smooth, yet the set of his square jaw warned of four decades spent fighting for power.

With each slow blink, the faint reflection of shifting sun, moon, and distant stars seemed to glide across his dark eyes.

Breath slid from his chest like a tide drawn through deep caverns. The air around him thickened, folding throne, floor, and even the slabs beneath into one silent mass that rose and fell with his lungs.

He, Lord of Jade Immortal Manor, held the lofty seventh rank among upper immortals. Power this high should have meant perfect control. At the moment it did not feel that way.

A fresh Messaging Jade Slip dug into his palm. Its silver glow painted his knuckles while a chill, oily anger crept up his neck.

The first characters burned behind his eyes: "Turner brothers confirmed missing. No battle marks. No lingering force. Vanished." He read the line twice, hoping new meaning would appear. It did not.

Another section followed: "Unknown individuals searching the city for Soulfall Slope incident and the brothers’ movements." The tidy script made the warning feel colder.

"Linked with high-price inquiries at the Knowledge Pavilion," the slip continued, "likely targeted revenge or cover-up. Suspect: expert level, excels at concealment and erasing traces."

"Useless, all of you useless!" The shout cracked from Julian’s throat before he noticed he was standing.

His voice pulsed through vaulted stone. "Two fourth-rank executioners disappear inside their own quarters, and no one hears so much as a sigh?"

"If you cannot tell me how, why do you exist?" Spittle flashed against torchlight as the words slammed out.

Below, elders of the Punishment Hall and captains of the Internal Guard pressed foreheads to marble. Damp patches spread between their shoulder blades.

"Search again!" Julian barked. "Widen the net. Every newcomer, every shadow of uncertain strength—sort them all."

"Double the men at Soulfall Slope. Raise the array to maximum alert. Without my seal, nothing living comes within a hundred miles!"

Orders rolled on, each colder than the last. "Fortify city walls. Shut every transit gate. Leave one emergency channel—under my hand only."

"Yes, Manor Lord!" Fear pushed their reply into a single ragged chorus.

"Where is Quentin? Bring him to me." The name of his trusted Grand Chamberlain surfaced like a blade.

A steward edged forward, voice nearly a whisper. "My Lord, Grand Chamberlain Fay… reported urgent private business last dusk. He registered a leave of several days. He is now outside the manor."

"What?" The single word struck like falling stone.

Julian’s brows knotted. "He left yesterday? Did he state the matter? Direction? Expected return?"

"He only said it was pressing. No details. Promised three to five days, half a month at most," the steward managed.

The man’s knees shook, but he forced the answer out all the same.

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