The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6066

Before the hall the hundred-thousand Beastfolk Army waited in neat, bristling ranks, armor plates catching the late light.

They were the smaller host, yet hatred blazed in every Beastfolk Warrior's eyes, fierce enough to swallow any fear of death.

Jared stood at the front, Dragonslayer Sword angled downward, his expression still and glassy as pond water.

Behind him, Luther, Morvane, and Madam Nightfox stood shoulder to shoulder with 108 cultivators of High Immortal Realm Level Five and above.

Their seals locked, the Chaos Convergence Array hummed to life; a massive gray vortex turned above the column of warriors, grinding the air with primeval force.

"Jared!" The single name cracked across the battlefield like thunder.

The Grand Venerable's voice rolled after the shout, deeper than storm-clouds.

"Do you understand the crimes you've committed?"

Jared lifted his gaze, letting it slice through the miles of open air until it locked onto the Grand Venerable.

"Crimes?" His tone stayed almost curious. "What crime could you possibly mean?"

"You murdered celestial venerables, seized Beast-Quelling Hall, and rallied rebels against divine rule!"

The Grand Venerable's roar sharpened. "Each offense warrants death. I lead 300 thousand troops today to tear you limb from limb and make an example!"

Jared's lips curved into an easy smile. "Tear me apart? With what—yourself?"

He lifted the Dragonslayer Sword and pointed it straight at the lofty commander. "Five of your venerables fell to me, three more in Epea, and whole regiments by the tens of thousands.

You—Grand Venerable—couldn't subdue a mere High Immortal Realm Level One, yet you dare bluster here?"

"You—" The Grand Venerable's face darkened until it almost matched his armor.

Jared refused him the pause. "For millennia the celestials have harvested souls, forged soul crystals, and bled every race dry.

King Ironhide, Elder Hartcrest, tens of thousands of Beastfolk Warriors—their blood demands a hundredfold repayment today!"

"Arrogant!" A shout burst from the ranks, hot with fury.

One celestial venerable—voice raw—barked, "Jared, you're nothing but a lucky whelp living off a fluke, yet you dare spout such nonsense?"

Jared's eyes narrowed on the speaker. "And you are? Name yourself. My blade does not strike the nameless."

"I am Venerable Frostbane of the Northern Realm!" the man announced, chin lifted.

"Venerable Frostbane," Jared echoed, tasting the name.

A nod, casual yet lethal. "Very well. You die first."

"You—!" Frostbane trembled from shoulders to fingertips, words choking behind clenched teeth.

At that instant Lyria let out a silvery laugh, clear as chimes. "Senior Disciple, this Jared is amusing. High Immortal Realm Level One, yet his mouth reaches higher than the sky."

Her bright eyes drifted over Jared. "Hey, boy, you're Jared, yes? Young, promising. Come back to the Fourteenth Firmament with me.

With talent like yours, submit to the celestials and I'll beg Master to spare your life."

Jared studied Lyria, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his gaze.

She was undeniably stunning, yet that lifted-chin superiority soured the view.

"Return with you to the Fourteenth Firmament?" he repeated.

A quick laugh peeled out. "Why, to serve as your kept man?"

"You—!" The single word cracked from Lyria before heat painted her cheeks.

Color flooded her flawless face; anger shimmered behind the moonlit eyes. "Insolent!"

Lucian's brows pinched. "Jared, my junior offered mercy. Do not mistake it for obligation."

Jared's gaze hooked on the glowing emblem at Lucian's brow. "Royal celestial blood, is it? No wonder you carry yourself so high. But—" He let the unfinished thought hang in the charged air.

He continued, voice suddenly ice-cold. "Are all of you from the Fourteenth Firmament so self-important, thinking birth in an upper world grants you license to toy with every life below?"

Lucian answered without raising his tone. "The strong devour the weak—that is heaven's rule. The celestials reign because of strength. If you object, prove otherwise."

"Prove it I shall."

Jared advanced a single pace, blade tipping forward. "But first, I need to take out some trash."

His stare shifted to the Grand Venerable. "Old thing, you marched 300 thousand troops out here for a spectacle? Fight, or stop wasting breath."

Fury twisted into a laugh inside the Grand Venerable's throat. "Fine—since you crave death, I will oblige!"

With a sweep of his arm he bellowed, "First formation, charge! Slaughter the beastfolk rebels!"

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