The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6523

Morgana came toward them from the distance.

She was dressed in white as pure as snow, her long hair black as ink, her steps so light it looked like the wind itself carried her.

She looked far better than she had seven days earlier. Color had returned to her face, and the sharpness was back in her eyes.

She looked at Jared, then at Gwendolyn beside him, and a hint of amused meaning flickered through her foxlike eyes.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming back," she said, though there was no real reproach in it.

Jared smiled. "I keep my promises to Your Majesty."

Morgana's gaze rested on Gwendolyn for a brief beat.

The two women met each other's eyes in the air between them. Morgana gave the slightest nod, and Gwendolyn returned it.

Neither of them said anything more, but they understood each other.

"Come on."

Morgana turned and headed toward Thornwild Palace. "There's still a lot to do. Venerable Starwick's host is already at our doorstep. If you'd stayed away any longer, I would've had to armor up and go out there myself."

Jared and Gwendolyn followed behind her.

Behind them, the three suns blazed high overhead, their gold, silver, and crimson light weaving together and staining the mountains of Beastmoor Ridge in brilliant red-gold.

Far off along the horizon, the dark clouds were still massing. Blood-red light churned inside them, and the killing intent had sharpened into countless invisible blades.

Venerable Starwick had set his camp on a hill 300 miles north of Beastmoor Ridge. The command tents stretched for miles, and golden saintlight banners snapped in the wind. From the top of the hill, the outline of Beastmoor Ridge was clearly visible—the mountain range shrouded in dense fog, lit bright from within, as if it were laughing at him.

Venerable Starwick sat inside the command tent, his fingers tapping lightly against the table.

The tent flap snapped open, and Elder Rowe strode in. He cupped his fists and said, "Hall Master, Venerable Glacier and Venerable Clarendon have arrived."

Venerable Starwick rose to his feet and forced a smile onto his face.

"Show them in."

The flap lifted again.

Two men entered, one after the other.

Venerable Glacier came first, dressed in an ice-blue robe. His snow-white hair spilled over narrow shoulders, and his gaunt face carried a faint, predatory gloom around the eyes.

The moment he stepped inside, his gaze started moving.

It paused on every object in the tent, weighing each one as if he were calculating how many spirit stones it might fetch.

Venerable Clarendon followed behind him in a white robe stitched at the hem with golden suns. His face was mild, his smile warm and easy. He looked like a man arriving for tea, not war.

Starwick invited them to sit, then ordered spirit tea brought in.

Glacier lifted his cup, took a small sip, and frowned before setting it back down.

"Hall Master Starwick, did you drag us here in such a hurry just to drink tea?"

Starwick's smile tightened for a beat.

"Master Glacier, I've received word that Jared has returned to Beastmoor Ridge."

Glacier's fingers stilled.

A flicker of wariness crossed his face so fast it was almost invisible. Clarendon's smile faded too, and the teacup in his hand stopped midway to his lips.

"Jared?" Clarendon said. "The master of that violet soul?"

"That's right."

Starwick nodded. "He didn't just come back. He brought a woman with him. According to the scouts, his cultivation has recovered to True Immortal Realm Level Seven. And the aura of his chaotic force is even denser than before."

Silence settled over the tent.

Glacier glanced at Clarendon.

Clarendon was already looking at him. Their eyes met in midair, then broke apart just as quickly.

"Hall Master Starwick."

Glacier spoke at last, his voice slow, each word drifting out like it had been frozen in an ice cellar.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify