The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6453

"Elder Rowe's face changed at once.

He could no longer bother with encircling Venerable Emberlain. He could no longer bother with the battle right in front of him.

The relic mattered most. His body turned almost on its own, and he chased at full speed in the direction the Soul-Vault Pearl had flown, as if one step too late would cost him the opportunity forever."

"Beside him, Elder Sunter's focus broke the same way.

He followed close behind, and the two of them rushed together toward the depths of the Wastelands to seize the relic."

"Their backs were completely exposed.

Their defenses were empty."

"Venerable Emberlain seized that single battle opening before it could vanish.

He did not pause for even half a breath. He turned into a streak of fading crimson light and burned through the last of his spiritual power, fleeing for his life in the opposite direction.

His figure flashed once, and the distance opened fast. For the moment, he had broken free of the killing ground."

"On the far side of the Wastelands, in the southeast, killing intent was boiling just as fiercely.

A brutal fight had already begun."

"Venerable Frostgrave had driven himself forward at full speed the entire way.

His movement technique cut through the air with a harsh edge, but even then, he had failed to shake off his pursuers."

"Two golden streaks of light closed in from front and rear, then sealed him off from left and right.

They pinned him in the heart of the Wastelands, leaving him no road to retreat and no path to circle around."

"The one blocking him on the left was Elder Pennyworth.

He had Golden Immortal Level Two cultivation and specialized in water-based, yin-chill arcane arts. His spiritual power was soft, cold, and clinging, suited for drawn-out battles that wore an enemy down, locked down movement techniques, and froze meridians."

"The one cutting him off on the right was Elder Leary.

He also had Golden Immortal Level Two cultivation, and he specialized in a violent fire technique. His attacks were fierce and overbearing, with explosive force to spare, best suited for frontal assaults, tearing through defenses, and crushing opponents head-on."

"One water, one fire.

The two spiritual power attributes stood in complete opposition, yet they happened to cover each other's weaknesses perfectly. Their offense and defense fit together, their advances and retreats had order, and once they joined forces, their fighting strength doubled.

The pressure they formed was crushing."

"The two had carried out missions together for years.

Their coordination was seamless, their experience in surrounding and killing enemies was old and practiced, and their methods were made specifically to restrain a solitary Golden Immortal adept."

"Venerable Frostgrave stood where he was, his silver robe stirring slightly in the wind.

From beginning to end, his expression remained clear and cold as still water. His silver eyes showed no ripple, no break, no hurry, and no falter."

"Powerful enemies stood before him, and the encirclement was closing.

Yet his bearing stayed rooted like a mountain. The only move he made was to slowly raise his hand and close his fingers around the hilt of the silver blade hanging at his waist."

Bzzzz—

"A clear sword-cry rang across the Wastelands.

Frost energy burst outward."

"The silver blade slid half an inch from its sheath.

In the next instant, bone-piercing extreme-cold sword aura swept around him. The withered grass nearby flashed white with frost and froze solid, while the air turned sharply colder.

Threads of frost energy seeped toward flesh and bone, and a killing chill rushed straight into the face."

"This sword had followed Venerable Frostgrave through battle for 10 thousand years.

It had taken countless lives. Its frost energy could cut into the spirit, and its sharp edge could break spiritual treasures.

It was his life-bound war-relic, the killing treasure he kept closest to himself."

"Cassian, surrender and hand over the Soul-Vault Pearl."

From that moment on, the battle went truly white-hot.

Elder Pennyworth's water spiritual power kept coming, seamless and without end. It coiled layer over layer, sealing and restricting, freezing the meridians around Venerable Frostgrave's body, limiting his movement as Elder Pennyworth pressed in step by step and ground down his endurance.

Elder Leary's fire attacks never stopped. Wave after wave of crushing assaults battered the front, tearing at Venerable Frostgrave's defenses and denying him even a sliver of time to adjust his breath.

One soft and one hard, one binding and one attacking, the two elders moved with no gap between them. Their encirclement closed perfectly.

Venerable Frostgrave might have been a Golden Immortal Level One, and his battle strength was not weak. His swordsmanship was extraordinary. But two fists could not beat four hands, and even a strong man could not hold forever under a group assault.

Against the coordinated siege of two Golden Immortals of the same rank, a long fight drained his spiritual power at frightening speed. The pressure mounted higher and higher. Bit by bit, he was forced into the lower hand, until holding on became nearly impossible.

With a soft pfft, blazing firelight swept past, and the silver robe tore. The aftershock of the flame clipped Venerable Frostgrave's left shoulder, instantly charring and shredding the cloth. A burning sting bit into skin and flesh, and a blackened wound appeared in stark relief.

Immediately after, another cold current of water-aspected spiritual power struck from nowhere. It hit the meridians in his left arm. Frost spread in an instant and sealed the channels, leaving the arm numb and rigid, every attempt to draw strength through it turning painfully sluggish.

The wounds kept multiplying. His spiritual power kept weakening. His movement kept slowing. His physical strength stood at the edge of exhaustion, and defeat had already been written into the fight; only the timing remained.

Just as the battle was about to settle, just as Venerable Frostgrave was nearing the point where he would be drained dry and captured, a silhouette suddenly swept across the high sky. It traced a smooth arc and dropped into the Wastelands.

It landed on the ground not far from the battlefield, bounced lightly twice, then came to rest.

It was the Soul-Vault Pearl Venerable Emberlain had thrown with everything he had.

In that instant, all three sides stopped at the same time, their movements matching as if cut by one command. Every gaze snapped to the black pearl and locked there. Their breathing slowed together, and something fierce shifted behind every pair of eyes.

Elder Pennyworth and Elder Leary made no attempt to hide how badly they wanted it, nor the sudden blaze that filled their eyes. The relic was right in front of them, close enough to take.

Venerable Frostgrave's gaze held something else entirely. His pupils tightened, and no answer rose behind them. His whole focus took a hard jolt, with no way to tell what Aurelius meant by this move.

In the next instant, a crimson figure wrapped in the aura of fresh wounds raced to the edge of the battlefield. His robes hung in tatters, golden blood marked him from head to toe, and his presence had thinned to a weak, withered thread. It was Venerable Emberlain, who had forced his way back at the risk of his life.

"Go!"

Venerable Emberlain had no time to regulate his breathing or tend to his wounds. He paid no attention to the pain tearing through him and gave the low command in a rush.

At the same time, he reached down and snatched the Soul-Vault Pearl from the ground, gripping it tight in his palm. Without the slightest hesitation, he turned and broke out at full speed toward the distant Wastelands.