The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6513

Every impurity in the air was forced away, forming a pure field of open space around him.

The Dragonslayer Sword hung at his waist, its ancient scabbard patterns catching the moonlight with a cold gleam.

"The blade trembled faintly and released a low hum.

That sound came from the sword spirit stirring within it. It had sensed the change in its master, sensed a power several times more vast than before."

Jared closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

The spiritual essence of the Sixteenth Firmament poured into his meridians.

"Thin.

It was thin indeed, more than ten times worse than the Seventeenth Firmament."

The law-fragments were even more pitifully scarce, so few they could almost be ignored.

But the air here, the aura here, every inch of land beneath this sky—he knew it all too well.

Freevale.

The Celestial Alliance.

Blackstone Gaol.

Ashenbrand Gaol.

Northern Abyss Gaol.

Every inch of this land carried his footprints.

Every city held his enemies.

Every battle had been paid for with his blood.

He had once been hunted here, wanted here, surrounded and cut off here.

"His companions had died in battle here.

His physical body had been shattered here."

Now, he had returned.

He slowly opened his eyes. In those violet pupils, there was no heat, no killing intent—only an absolute, unshakable stillness.

That stillness chilled deeper than any frenzy of killing intent, because it meant every person who stood in his way had already been sentenced to death inside him.

Chaotic force circulated through his body, and an invisible ripple spread outward with him at its center.

His spirit sense unfurled like a tide, covering everything within a thousand miles.

Every stone, every inch of earth, every strand of wind in the northern region of the Sixteenth Firmament entered his perception.

He sensed many presences.

Some were dense, like the direction of the Celestial Alliance great hall. Holy radiance had gathered there into a golden sea, and even from several hundred miles away, that nauseating sacred presence still pressed against his senses.

"Some were faint, scattered throughout the Wastelands, hidden deep in the mountains, concealed inside caves.

They belonged to Freevale's scattered remnants, to the surviving Sylvan Kin, to the cultivators the celestials had crushed down but who still had not let go of hope."

His spirit sense swept across the Celestial Alliance great hall, pierced through layer after layer of wards, and reached straight into the depths of the hall.

Then he sensed that presence.

"It was very faint.

Faint enough to seem almost extinguished, like a candle guttering in the wind."

"That presence was tangled with too much—pain, weariness, the gray weight of every road cut off.

But its core remained. The refusal to yield remained. That person's will remained, and it was still waiting."

Gwendolyn.

She was still alive.

Jared withdrew his spirit sense, and a cold gleam flashed through his violet eyes.

The next instant, he sprang into the air.

No gathering power. No forming seals. No use of any arcane arts.

He only tapped the tip of his foot lightly, and his whole body turned into a violet streak of light that tore into the sky.

His speed reached the extreme, leaving only a faint violet afterimage over the Wastelands.

The afterimage lasted less than one breath before it vanished, while Jared himself had already disappeared at the far edge of the world, flying toward the Celestial Alliance great hall.

His speed tore the air apart.

A sharp sonic boom exploded overhead, like countless thunderclaps crashing at the same time.

"Along the path he flew, the clouds were forcibly split open, carving a straight passage.

Violet chaotic force lingered inside the passage for a long time and would not fade."

Down on the ground, several wandering cultivators hidden in a vale were secretly cultivating.

"They heard that earthshaking sonic boom and looked up, only to see a violet streak of light cut across the edge of the sky.

It moved so fast that all they could catch was a thin line of violet light."

"His brows were locked tight. The flesh beneath his eyes had swollen, and red veins webbed through his gaze.

He had not closed his eyes for many days."

The two Grand Elders had gone to the Seventeenth Firmament, and no word had come back for a long time.

"As for his mortal foe, Jared, the two Grand Elders had joined hands and destroyed his physical body.

But Jared's spirit had been sealed inside the Soul-Vault Pearl."

As long as that spirit still existed, Alaric could not sit easy.

"High Sovereign."

"A celestial cultivator hurried into the great hall.

His footsteps rang against the floor, each one carrying a sharp edge of urgency."

"The adept's face had gone pale.

He dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the cold floor tiles."

"An urgent report has come from the scout at the northern borderlands."

His voice shook. "A violet streak of light is flying toward the great hall at tremendous speed. Its speed has reached an unbelievable level. When the scout saw that light at Heronfall Peak, it was still five hundred miles away. But by the time he finished writing the urgent report, that light had already entered within three hundred miles."

In an instant, the great hall dropped into dead silence.

"Every attending cultivator stopped what he was doing.

Every elder lifted his head."

"Golden saintlight still flickered all around them.

For some reason, the air inside the hall suddenly seemed colder."

Alaric's fingers stopped against the armrest.

His index finger hung in midair, trembling slightly.

"Suspected to be what?" His voice came out cold, so cold it barely sounded like it belonged in a living mouth.

"Suspected..." The adept swallowed. His throat bobbed three times. "Suspected to be Jared."

Jared.

Those two syllables drove into every chest like an ice blade.

Alaric's face went deathly white in an instant.

Fine beads of sweat seeped across his forehead, slid down his cheeks, and dripped onto the golden throne.