The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6450

The outline of Wayfarers' Haven grew clearer little by little at the edge of sight.

"Three blazing suns hung high above.

Gold, silver, and crimson light wove together as they poured down, coating the enormous city that stood upon the Wastelands in an eerie dark-gold sheen."

"The city walls had been built from rough gray stone.

They rose about 10 yards high, and their surfaces were carved full of dense warding sigils."

"The light coming from those sigils had no order to it.

Some burned bright. Some had already gone dim. They had clearly come from the hands of different cultivators, each with a different style, without the slightest unified pattern."

"In the strict, orderly cities of the celestials, something like this would have been impossible.

But Wayfarers' Haven was exactly that kind of place—no rules, no order. Everyone had their own sigils. Everyone had their own formation. No one could control anyone else."

"The city gate stood wide open.

There were no guards and no inspections. Anyone could come or go at any time."

"Venerable Emberlain and Venerable Frostgrave landed in front of the city gate.

They drew in the Golden Immortal aura around them and suppressed their cultivation to around Level Nine of the True Immortal Realm."

"One after the other, they stepped through the city gate.

The stone road underfoot was pitted and uneven, its hollows filled with rainwater and stains no one could name. A damp, moldy smell rose from it."

"Shops crowded both sides of the street.

There were sellers of healing elixirs, sellers of arcane implements, sellers of intelligence, sellers of talismans—anything a cultivator might want could be found there."

"The signs were even more chaotic.

Some had been carved from heartwood. Some were painted on beast hide. Some were nothing more than a few words scrawled on a rag and hung out front."

"The street was packed with people.

There were members of the human race, the beast race, demons, and even the Ghost Clan, along with a few races Jared could not have put a name to."

"They wore every kind of clothing.

Some were dressed in finery. Some were wrapped in rags. Some had bright cuirasses on their bodies. Others looked as if their clothes might fall apart in the next gust of wind."

"When they brushed past one another, their eyes would slide openly toward the other person's Storage Ring or the arcane implement hanging at their waist.

Every glance measured what could be taken—and what might strike back."

"This was a place where the weak got eaten by the strong.

No rules. No law. A fist carried all the reason anyone needed."

"Venerable Emberlain's face gave nothing away as his gaze moved across the surroundings.

The city's layout, the spread of cultivators, the rise and fall of their auras—he took it all in."

Venerable Frostgrave followed behind him, silver eyes smooth as still water, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

They crossed several streets before stopping in front of an unremarkable inn.

"The inn's frontage was small.

The paint on the door panels had already peeled away in mottled patches, exposing the gray-black wood beneath."

A wooden sign hung at the doorway, carved with four crooked characters: Havenford Inn.

"Here," Venerable Frostgrave said under his breath.

Venerable Emberlain gave a nod, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

"The inn's main hall was not large.

A few tables stood scattered around, with a single counter set off to one side."

"Behind the counter stood an old man with graying hair and cultivation at True Immortal Realm Level Nine.

His eyes narrowed as he sized up the guests who had just come in."

"His gaze stayed on the two of them for a moment.

He asked nothing. He only lifted two fingers."

"Two upper rooms. Ten middle-grade spirit stones for one night."

Venerable Frostgrave took twenty middle-grade spirit stones from his sleeve and placed them on the counter.

The old man put away the spirit stones, took two keys down from upon the wall, and tossed them onto the counter.

"Upstairs, on the left. Third room and fourth room."

The two men took the keys and went up the stairs.

The guest room was not big, but it was clean enough.

"A wooden bed. A wooden table. A wooden chair.

In the corner sat the prayer mat."

"The window opened on the south-facing wall.

Through the papered pane, the gray sky outside showed in a blur, along with the hazy outlines of the three blazing suns."

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