The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6333

While Jared cultivated inside the Pentacarna Tower, the Tribunal's army arrived at the Skywolf Tribe.

It was a morning with no sun.

The sky hung gray and dim. The clouds sagged so low it looked like they might press right down onto the ground.

The wind tore across the Wastelands, snapping the tents hard enough to make them crack and whip, driving the beast race banners crooked and sideways.

Hadrian was on the training ground, practicing with his axe.

His wounds still hadn't closed up cleanly. In the battle at the northern mine, his left arm had been split open with a gash so deep the bone showed, and the burn from holy radiance across his chest still hadn't fully healed.

But he was the Chieftain of the Skywolf Tribe. He couldn't go down.

Every morning, he came to the training ground and drilled with his axe.

He used sweat to dull the pain. He used that war axe to tell his clansmen one thing without saying a word: he was still here, and the Skywolf Tribe was still here.

The first one to spot the enemy was a sentry.

A young beast-race warrior slid down from the watchtower, hit the ground hard, scrambled back up, and staggered into the training ground.

His face had gone paper-white. His eyes were stretched wide, and his lips shook when he tried to speak.

"Chieftain! Enemy attack! The celestials... the celestials are here!"

Hadrian's axe stopped in midair.

He lifted his head and looked into the distance.

At the far edge of the Wastelands, golden radiance was starting to rise.

It wasn't sunlight. The sun was hidden behind the clouds.

It was holy radiance, the holy radiance of celestial cultivators.

Thousands upon thousands of streaks of holy radiance gathered into one mass, flooding the whole sky with a blinding gold.

Hadrian's pupils tightened.

He had seen celestial armies before.

In the course of his three-thousand-year life, he had watched them surround the Ghost Clan, surround the demons, and surround wandering cultivators.

But he had never seen this many celestial cultivators gathered in one place.

"How many?" His voice stayed level, but the hand gripping his axe gave a faint shake.

The scout swallowed. "At least... at least 3 thousand."

3 thousand.

The Skywolf Tribe had fewer than 500 warriors who could fight.

In the battle at the northern mine, 73 had died, and 120 had been left heavily wounded.

Now, fewer than 300 could still pick up arms.

300 against 3 thousand.

Hadrian went silent for a moment.

Then he turned and shouted to the beast-race warriors on the training ground, "Sound the war horn! Form up!"

The war horn rolled out across the Wastelands, low and desolate, like the dying cry of some giant beast.

In the span of 2 hours, the Skywolf Tribe's camp turned into a military fortress.

The old, the weak, the women, and the children were gathered into several great tents in the very heart of the camp.

The children still didn't know what was happening, and they went right on playing and roughhousing.

The women held their children close, their eyes fixed and unsteady.

The elders sat at the tent entrance without a word, rusted blades clenched in their hands.

They were old. They could no longer fight like they once had. But if the enemy broke in, they would still throw these worn-out lives into the line.

Hadrian stood atop the central platform of the camp and looked over all of it.

His left arm was still hanging in a sling around his neck, and the wound in his chest still throbbed faintly.

But his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes shone hard.

His son was dead.

More than half his warriors were already gone.

And now his camp was about to be ringed in by three thousand celestial cultivators.

But Hadrian couldn't go down.

He was the Chieftain of the Skywolf Tribe.

The Skywolf Tribe could be wiped out, but he could not surrender.

"Send people to every force. Right now. Tell them the Skywolf Tribe is willing to hand over most of our resources for aid."

"And find Mr. Chance. Tell him the Skywolf Tribe is in trouble."

Hadrian shouted the orders across the camp.

The Tribunal still hadn't attacked, and Hadrian used that narrow window to send people out for help.

At the same time, he pinned hope on Jared, too. A few days ago, he had backed Jared and completely fallen out with the Tribunal because of it. Now that the Tribunal had come for them, Jared had no reason to stand by and watch.

He struggled to his feet and walked to the camp gate.

In the distance, a group of people in black armor was making its way toward them.

Their armor was battered and worn, covered in blade marks and bloodstains.

Their weapons were all different. Some carried blades, some swords, and some long spears.

They were few in number, less than three hundred in all.

At their head was a young woman in black fighting clothes. Her long hair was tied high, and the wraithblade hung at her waist.

Her face had gone pale, and the wear on her showed plain in her eyes. Even so, every step she took landed steadily.

Lydia.

Hadrian looked at Lydia and said nothing for a long while.

"How many?"

"Two hundred seventy-three." Lydia stopped in front of him. "Everyone in the Moonshade Realm who can still fight came."

Hadrian's lips trembled. "Why are you helping us?"

Hadrian knew what kind of shape the Ghost Clan had been in. For all these years, they had barely held on, hiding here and there, scraping out one more day at a time.

And when the Ghost Clan had been the ones in trouble, no one had ever helped them.

Lydia looked at him and spoke slowly. "The Skywolf Tribe helped Jared. Jared's business is my business."

Hadrian's eyes reddened.

He turned and looked at the Ghost Clan warriors filing into the camp.

Their armor was battered. Their weapons didn't match. Their numbers were small.

But they had come.

At the point when the Skywolf Tribe had nowhere left to turn, Shadow Hall had refused, the Wandering Cultivators Alliance had refused, and the Moonshade Realm had come.

A Ghost Clan that had been hunted by the celestials for thousands of years, that had survived by hiding in the dark, had come to save the Skywolf Tribe.

"Thank you." Hadrian's voice came out light, but it landed heavy.

Lydia shook her head. "No need. The Skywolf Tribe helped Jared. We won't forget that."

She turned and shouted to the Ghost Clan warriors behind her, "Set the defenses!"

"Yes!" the Ghost Clan warriors answered in one crashing roar.

Hadrian stood at the camp gate and watched the Ghost Clan warriors move into action. He stayed there in silence for a long time.