The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6029

Jared knew the celestials thrived on rank; every rule inside this fortress screamed power above all.

As Clive the envoy, he technically stood several rungs above simple gate guards, and Jared made sure they remembered it.

When manners collapsed into open conflict, their badges could not protect them; Jared doubted they would gain any advantage.

He caught the flicker of confusion on their faces—why was the usually pliant envoy suddenly this fierce?

Perhaps they blamed his sour mood on that rumored ambush; the thought darted across their eyes.

Or maybe they sensed deeper trouble in his mission and wanted no part of it.

Jared could almost watch the possibilities tumble through their minds like dice across a board.

The right Divine Guard ground his teeth, stepped aside, and hissed, "Very well, Mr. Clive. Enter. But this isn't over."

Jared snorted, ignored them, and swept forward, cloak snapping as he crossed the vast threshold into the shadowed hall.

Not until his silhouette vanished did the two guards finally let their fury boil over.

The left Divine Guard barked, "Damn that Clive! Hiding behind Venerable Glacier's favor."

Heat throbbed across his cheek; the sting of humiliation nearly drove him mad.

"This isn't finished," he growled.

The right Divine Guard's eyes glimmered with venom. "The venerable will deal with him; we'll see him crawl."

He spun on his heel. "Let's alert the Law Enforcement Department under Venerable Celestial Metal. Report Clive's erratic conduct for immediate review."

The pair stalked off, unaware the man behind that face was someone else entirely.

*****

Inside the corridor, Jared felt little stir; the incident had served its purpose.

The slaps had been more than intimidation; they let him probe the celestials' rules and measure how far Clive's name would carry.

The answer pleased him.

Everyone he passes shifts aside without being told. Lower-ranked celestials bow while stronger ones stride through unchallenged. The pecking order hums in the air like static Jared can taste on his tongue.

He keeps the borrowed power of being Venerable Glacier’s favored envoy wrapped around him like a cloak; as long as that emblem stays bright, needless questions slide away.

Guided by Clive’s memories, he threads the solemn corridors at a brisk pace.

Celestials hurry past, faces blank with duty. A few who know Clive give him a curt nod and keep moving, exactly the distance Jared wants.

After seven quick turns and several warded archways, he reaches the northern annex known as Frigid Silence Hall.

The doors are shut, exhaling a steady breath of chill.

No sentry stands outside, yet an icy pressure leaks from within, sharper than during his last visit—a silent warning that Venerable Glacier is home.

Jared smooths his robe, adjusts the faint hitch in his breathing so it matches a wounded man, then inhales once and taps the door with two measured knuckles.

"Enter."

The command drifts out, flat and glacial, carrying no hint of warmth—undeniably Venerable Glacier.

Jared pushes the door and steps inside.

The scene matches his memory down to the shadowed corners.

Dim light hangs above ice-blue floors and walls carved from ten-thousand-year glacier stone; the air bites like midwinter.

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