The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6040

Jared and Luther launched from the black-ice ramparts of Coldabyss City, twin streaks—one gray, one jet—racing into the vast western sky.

Wind clawed at their sleeves, yet neither slowed; the western region waited.

Between the northern lands and that frontier stretched several hundred thousand miles of wilderness and fractured kingdoms.

Even at their fastest, the journey promised many relentless days in the air.

To avoid celestial patrols or hidden checkpoints, they chose the loneliest path.

The Godgrave Mountains straddled the border of the northern and central regions.

They followed its shadowed spine westward, trusting solitude over any safe road.

Legends claimed the range was an ancient battlefield where gods and fiends once clashed. Peaks speared the heavens, tips lost inside a choking sheet of gray-black death mist.

Inside that pall, air thinned and heaven’s laws twisted. Venomous insects and feral beasts prowled unchecked, while damaged wards still flickered and silent spatial tears gaped, ready to swallow the careless.

Those very horrors made the trail perfect for fugitives; pursuers rarely dared venture so deep.

"Jared, crossing the Godgrave will take at least twenty days," Luther warned, his voice muffled within swirling black haze. "We’ll meet no small number of dangers."

Black miasma curled from Luther’s robes, forming a loose cocoon that forced the death fog to break and slide away before touching him.

Jared answered with action. A faint gray film of chaotic force settled around him; every corrosive wisp that grazed it dissolved, then flowed inward as harmless motes to feed the turmoil within.

"It’s fine," he said, voice steady. "The hardship will temper my new strength."

He had reached Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Nine only days before. His meridians still sought balance amid the sudden tidal surge of power.

The merciless terrain offered the perfect forge, and he welcomed its hammering heat.

They tightened into twin comets and dove headlong into the battered range.

Peril pressed from every side once the jagged peaks closed overhead.

Spectral remnants of primeval beasts lurked within the murk; one lunged without warning, jaws of cold flame snapping for their throats.

The shale beneath a careless step crumbled, unveiling a rift that drank air and light. Farther on, a fractured battle formation flickered awake, loosing phantom arrows by the thousands.

Worse were moments when color bled away and memory rose instead, spawning grim illusions that clawed at buried fears.

The chaotic force treated fear and matter with identical disdain, tearing every hazard apart the instant it entered reach.

The lunging specter unraveled first, essence drawn into the gray vortex and refined as nourishment for Jared’s widening soul sea.

With a casual sweep he poured chaos into the quivering rift; its edges knit like wet clay, sealing before the mountain could rupture again.

Ancient runic pillars eroded to dust under a gray drizzle, arrow storms falling silent inside a single breath.

The heart-devil mirages found no purchase; his will had been tempered through too many near deaths, and chaos kept each lie at arm’s length.

Moreover, illusion itself obeyed him; a stray thought overturned the phantom landscape, scattering it like smoke before a gale.

Luther, however, stumbled more than once. Each time, Jared flashed to his side, severing fangs, sealing cracks, or burning poison before it could steal a heartbeat.

"Mr. Jared, this chaotic force of yours… it’s almost too overbearing," Luther breathed.

Awe lingered in Luther’s eyes as Jared dispersed a spatial storm strong enough to erase a High Immortal Level Five; the impossible sight left him momentarily speechless.

Jared replied with a mild smile and let the comment fade into the fog.

Even while traveling, his thoughts probed fresh angles—how else chaos might fold, stretch, or condense into unexpected forms.

Since breaching Level Nine, his grasp of the Chaos Grand Path had deepened.

The energy no longer served only to erase; hints of creation thrummed at its core, begging experimentation.

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