The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6519

"What is that?"

A sharp-eyed young cultivator spotted it first. He was standing watch at the mouth of the vale, peering up at the sky through a gap in the vines.

His voice snapped everyone else’s attention upward.

On the horizon, a violet streak of light was racing toward them at an impossible speed.

It dragged a long burning tail behind it, slicing the sky in two.

The purple glow wasn’t blinding, but something about it made it impossible to look away.

It paused in the sky for a brief instant, as if sensing something, then suddenly changed direction and shot straight toward the vale.

It was so fast no one had time to react.

The violet light dropped into the clearing at the heart of the vale. When the glow dispersed, a single figure stood before them all.

A green inner robe. A tall, straight frame. A longsword at his waist in an ancient, unadorned sheath. Harsh features, and violet eyes that burned bright in the dusk.

A faint layer of violet spiritual light wrapped around him. It wasn’t ostentatious, but somehow it made the whole vale feel warm again.

Jared.

Everyone froze.

As if they’d been pinned in place. As if lightning had struck them. As if they were staring at an illusion that couldn’t possibly be real.

No one spoke. No one moved. No one dared trust their own eyes.

The vale went so still that all that remained was the sound of the wind.

A young warrior was the first to come back to himself.

His lips were trembling violently, and thick tears spilled into his eyes.

He recognized that man—the one who had once led them into battle, the one who had carved his way in and out of the Celestial Army, the one who had been surrounded by the two Grand Elders and, in the end, had his body destroyed.

"M-Mr. Chance?"

His voice shook. He sounded disbelieving, but beneath it was a hope he couldn’t hold down. "Is it really Mr. Chance? Mr. Chance came back?"

Jared looked at them—at the wounds covering their bodies, the fear in their eyes, the blood stiff on their clothes.

His gaze moved across every face. Some he could name. Some he’d only seen a few times. Some were complete strangers.

But their eyes all held the same look—the look of people who had stared into a long, hopeless darkness and suddenly seen the first hint of light.

Jared was silent for a moment.

"I came to take you home."

Just five words.

Calm. Brief. As ordinary as if he were commenting on something that needed no weight at all.

And those five words broke everyone.

Tears surged out all at once.

The young warrior dropped to his knees with a thud and shook with sobs.

Beside him, the elder cultivator beat his chest and wailed, as if he were trying to cry out every ounce of fear that had been crushed inside him for far too long.

Two others clung to each other and cried so hard they couldn't speak.

Some just stood there in a daze, tears slipping down in silence.

Some fell to their knees and bowed over and over, their foreheads striking the cold dirt as they cried and called out, "Mr. Chance... Mr. Chance..."

"Mr. Chance, you're alive... you're really alive..."

A gray-haired elder cultivator shuffled up to Jared, trembling so badly he looked ready to collapse.

His eyes were full of tears, and his voice came out rough and leaking, like a torn drum. "This old man thought... thought I'd never see you again in this lifetime."

Jared reached out and steadied the old man's swaying body.

"The Celestial Alliance is gone. I destroyed it."

Every sob in the vale cut off at once.

The vale went dead still for a heartbeat.

Then it erupted.

"Gone?!"

"The Celestial Alliance was destroyed? The Celestial Alliance that always stood above everyone else?"

"What about Alaric Wycliffe? That lunatic Alaric Wycliffe?"

Jared's voice stayed even. "Alaric Wycliffe is dead. He died by my sword. The Celestial Alliance great hall is already ruins. From now on, no one will ever bully you again."

He said it the way someone might talk about the weather.

But not one of them thought he was boasting.

They could see his cultivation clearly now.

True Immortal Realm Level Six.

Back when Jared had only been True Immortal Realm Level Three, he had already been nearly unmatched in the Sixteenth Firmament.

At this level, he was more than strong enough to stand above the rest of the Sixteenth Firmament.

And more than that, they felt something from him—something they couldn't quite name.

It was absolute confidence.

Not arrogance. Not pride. Something forged in countless fights to the death.

A person with that kind of certainty didn't need to raise his voice.

Every word hit with the force of thunder.

The vale fell quiet again for a moment.

Then the cheers shook the sky.

Hope burst out of despair.

A fire of life flared back to life in the middle of a dead end.

Crying, laughter, and wild cheers crashed together and echoed through the vale.

People threw their arms around each other, dropped to their knees, howled at the heavens, and sobbed without restraint.

Some knelt and kowtowed toward Jared.

The resources Jared had brought back from the Celestial Alliance treasury were enough to support the entire rebuilding effort.

Stone halls, timber dwellings, training grounds, cultivation chambers—brick by brick, tile by tile, Freevale was built again.

No one complained.

No one said they were tired.

Because every one of them understood the same thing.

This time was different.

This time, the celestials were not coming back.

The city walls were the first thing they finished.

The stone wall the celestials had once blasted down rose again, higher than before, thicker than before, stronger than before.

Its surface was carved all over with the Aureate Way's protective sigils.

Jared had carved every one of them himself.

Each sigil carried the force of realm-law from the Aureate Codex, making it several times stronger than the old formation that had once protected Freevale.

On top of that, he laid down a guarding ward of chaotic force.

Built on the foundation of Jared’s cultivation, that power flowed through the ward without pause—enough to withstand a full-force strike from a Golden Immortal.

Jared stood on the city wall, watching it all.

Underfoot, Freevale was rising from the ruins.

Beyond it stretched the vast northern Wastelands.

The twin moons still hung high overhead, but tonight their colors no longer felt quite so eerie.

Silver light and blood-red light spilled over Freevale's ruins and over the people working below, drawing their shadows out long across the ground.

Gwendolyn stood beside him.

She had changed out of her white dress and into a clean robe woven from spirit silk Jared had brought back from the Celestial Alliance's treasury.

Her face was still a little pale, but she could stand on her own now.

Her spiritual power was slowly returning.

Her wounds were healing just as steadily.

The damage to her spirit would still take time to mend, but the danger had passed.

The fear and despair were gone from her eyes, replaced by a quiet kind of resolve.

"Jared."

She looked down at the people working below, the corner of her mouth lifting a little. "Did you find the Sylvan Kin?"

"I did." Jared nodded. "Elder Cillian is still alive. Elara Winter too. There are still a few dozen of the remnant Sylvan Kin left, hiding deep in Evershade. I've already sent people to bring them back."

Gwendolyn nodded and said nothing else.

She only kept watching the scene below the wall, watching the people rebuilding their home.

Freevale was alive again.