The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6422

The biting wind of the ice plains of the North had not yet fully faded from their ears.

"Within the Beast-Quelling Tower, its unique power of Aether Nascence had already thundered open.

Layer upon layer of aetheric waymarks wrapped around five upright figures, ripping through 10 thousand miles of void without leaving the slightest afterimage along the way."

"There was no drain of spiritual power from a long journey.

There was no dust, strain, or weariness from crossing domains."

"Jared, Gwendolyn, and the other three powerful adepts traveled by the Beast-Quelling Tower's exclusive Farreach art.

In the span of a breath, they crossed the entire far northern domain and landed steadily outside the mouth of Freevale's heartland, the place they had been holding in mind all along."

"The piercing white light of space slowly drew back and broke apart.

It scattered into specks of pale glow, then melted into the morning world."

"Five figures stood with their robes lifting slightly around them.

Their auras stayed steady, their feet planted solidly on the cool flagstone path at the mouth of the vale, their backs straight without the slightest sign of fatigue."

"It was the hour when dawn had just begun to break.

The sky had only turned faintly bright, and pale green morning mist lay over the whole vale like a veil of gauze, drifting in layers until the outlines of nearby and distant trees blurred together."

"Dew that had gathered through the night in the mountains had not yet burned away.

It soaked the clusters of spiritual plants and ancient trees along the roadside."

"Clean, full-bodied spiritual essence from the grasses and trees rushed toward them, mixed with the damp breath of morning dew.

It sank deep and eased away some of the bone-cutting chill they had carried back from the ice plains of the North."

"At the open stretch before the mouth of the vale, a group had already formed up and stood waiting.

They had clearly been there for a long time, quiet and ready, without the slightest slack in their posture."

"The man at the front was Nathaniel.

He stood alone in the most visible place beneath Freevale's gateward."

"His body was straight as a pine.

The dark fitted robe he wore had been soaked through by the dew of the long night. Its edges hung heavier than they should have, clinging close to his frame."

"No one needed to ask to know he had come before the sky brightened, before the last of the night withdrew.

He had stood there without taking a single step away, holding everything down inside him, his eyes fixed on the road back from the front."

The burden that had pressed on him for days, the weight lodged at his chest, the strain that had kept his nights from settling—all of it gathered between his brows.

"It drew his whole presence tight as a bowstring.

Spiritual power built silently through his body, ready beneath the surface, yet his focus still refused to settle."

"Only when his gaze locked on Jared's returning figure did the furrow he had worn for days suddenly loosen.

The boulder that had been sitting on his chest dropped hard to the ground."

"The taut aura around him released in an instant.

His steps came fast and solid as he hurried forward to meet them, a hot, urgent light in his eyes that would not stay hidden."

"The core leaders and cultivator commanders waiting around him all turned at once.

Every gaze gathered on Jared and his company. The air fell solemn in a blink. No one made a sound. Every one of them waited for the news of victory."

"How did it go? Did your secluded comprehension in the ice plains of the North lead to a smooth breakthrough?"

He turned sharply, his bearing suddenly edged like a drawn blade. His eyes swept toward the depths of the vale, where several thousand elite cultivators had already formed ranks and stood ready to march.

The breath in his throat surged higher. His voice shook all of Freevale, every word hard as iron and powerful enough to drive clean into the ears of every cultivator there.

"Northern Abyss Gaol holds countless brothers and sisters from all our clans. It has slaughtered countless fellow cultivators. Today, the time has come. We march at once and strike straight into Northern Abyss Gaol!"

Jared's expression turned sharp and severe, without the slightest hesitation. Battle intent rose from him, and his order dropped with the weight of a mountain. "All forces, assemble and form ranks immediately. Rest for only a moment. Our target is Northern Abyss Gaol. Full assault across the line. If we do not break the gaol gate, we do not return to Freevale!"

The powerful command rolled along the terrain of the vale in layer after layer. It carried into every corner of Freevale and reached every waiting cultivator with perfect clarity.

Freevale's sworn warriors had already spent many days cultivating in seclusion inside the Pentacarna Tower, sharpening themselves and storing their strength. Alongside them stood the Sylvan vanguard that had rushed in from neighboring territories, and the moment the order reached them, they moved as one.

They swept toward the open ground at the mouth of the vale and fell into formation fast. Armor scraped in steady rhythm, and the air around them settled into a grim order.

Elder Cillian came forward in a drifting emerald Daoist robe. Spiritual light circled him, and his aura carried a deep, solid force.

He personally led 300 elite Sylvan warriors behind him. Their steps were steady and disciplined as they marched out from Pentacarna Tower's inner sanctum in clean formation.

More than 200 full days of sealed seclusion had gone into them. They had tempered their spiritual power, hardened their bodies, and drilled their battle formations until the foundation of those Sylvan warriors had been remade from the inside out.

A rich, lasting blue-green spiritual light wound around each of them. Vitality rose thick from their bodies, their spiritual power flowing smooth and dense, like the massive life force buried in fertile spring soil, tough enough to endure and far beyond what they had once been.

Elder Cillian himself had not yet broken through the bottleneck in his cultivation level. Even so, the thickness of spiritual power inside him had more than doubled.

His meridians had widened and strengthened. Spiritual power moved through him without the slightest obstruction, and every motion carried the steady pressure of a seasoned powerhouse.

He needed no display to command the field. He could anchor a formation, hold down enemy pressure, and serve as the army's most reliable support in logistics and formation warfare.

On the other side, Nathaniel handled the deployments with sharp precision. He personally led 500 elite human Resistance troops as they gathered rapidly from guard positions all over the vale, the thousand-man line fitting together without gaps, formation clean, advance and retreat measured.

Blades and swords flashed cold as they were drawn from their sheaths. Their sharpened edges caught the dawn light and gave off a killing chill.

Heavy, solid black-iron cuirasses were strapped close to their bodies. Plate struck against plate in a long, crisp clangor, and the killing air rushed outward, sweeping over the whole mouth of the vale.