The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6638

...

Cloudflight Pavilion had gone quiet.

Byron Cloudmere was dead.

Lydia Finch sat in the seat he had once occupied, a jade slip held between fingers that had slowly turned white.

Her spirit sense moved through the report again.

A Golden Immortal Level One cultivator had killed the Golden Immortal Level Seven demon hound king.

He had killed Harlan Ironhall, a peak Golden Immortal Level Six expert, with one sword.

He also had a young fire unicorn beside him.

Lydia set down the jade slip.

Then she closed her eyes.

For a long time, no one in the hall dared breathe too loudly.

"Pavilion Master," one disciple finally asked, voice low, "what should we do?"

Lydia opened her eyes.

The emotion in them was complicated, but her decision had already been made.

"We go to Clearwind Village."

The disciple's face changed. "Pavilion Master, that young man is too strong. If we..."

"We are not going for revenge."

Lydia cut him off.

"We are going to talk. If he can kill Harlan and the demon hound king, Cloudflight Pavilion cannot fight him head-on. But business is still possible. We can buy the beast core. We can buy the materials. If he is willing to cooperate with us, this may not be a disaster at all."

A sharp, calculating gleam flashed through her eyes.

"It may be our chance."

The disciple's fear eased at once.

"Pavilion Master, wise as always."

...

The Graywolf Gang was in a far uglier state.

Blackwolf was dead, and before his body had even gone cold in people's minds, the elders were already fighting over his seat.

Voices rose higher and higher inside the hall.

Several men almost drew weapons.

A broad, hard-faced elder slapped the table so hard it cracked.

"Enough! Blackwolf is dead, and this is what you are doing? Fighting over who gets his chair instead of thinking about revenge?"

Another elder laughed coldly.

"Revenge? You say it so easily. That young man killed Blackwolf. He killed Harlan. He killed a Golden Immortal Level Seven demon hound king. Go on, then. Take revenge. Can you survive one sword?"

The hard-faced elder fell silent.

He could not.

No one here could.

"Then Blackwolf dies for nothing?"

"No," the second elder said. "But we do not rush in like fools. Send people to Clearwind Village first. Find out who that young man really is. Once we know his background, we decide our next move."

One by one, the elders nodded.

...

Blazefire Sect was worse.

Emberhawk had founded the sect herself. She had been its master, its pillar, and the reason the disciples held together.

Now she was dead.

The deputy sect masters all had different thoughts.

Some demanded revenge.

Some wanted the master's seat.

Some were already thinking of joining another power before Blazefire Sect collapsed.

The hall turned into a storm of arguments.

"Silence."

An old woman with white hair stood up, leaning on a cane.

The noise stopped immediately.

She was the Grand Elder of Blazefire Sect, a peak Golden Immortal Level Six cultivator who rarely involved herself in daily affairs.

Tonight, she had no choice.

"Grand Elder, Sect Master Emberhawk..."

"I know."

Her voice was calm, and that calm carried pressure no one dared resist. "Emberhawk is dead. I grieve for her. But grief does not mean we throw ourselves into death. That young man's strength is not something Blazefire Sect can handle right now."

She looked over the room.

"Send people to Clearwind Village. Watch first. Talk if we can. If we cannot..."

She left the sentence unfinished.

Everyone understood.

If they could not talk, then they could only swallow the loss.

...

Across Bermu City, the same news produced different reactions.

Some forces sent scouts.

Some locked their gates and watched.

Some had already begun calculating how much profit could be squeezed out of Clearwind Village.

"What if your Mr. Chance never comes back? What if he has already run? Am I supposed to ask empty air for the core?"

He flicked his hand.

The mercenaries behind him surged forward.

Alden was shoved aside.

The village gates were broken through.

"What are you doing?"

Alden tried to stop them, but one old Golden Immortal Level Six cultivator could not stop three hundred mercenaries who moved like starving wolves.

They tore into the village.

Doors were kicked open.

Storage chests were smashed apart.

Cabinets were overturned.

Pots and bowls shattered across the floors. Bedding and clothes were thrown into the dirt. Grain, spirit herbs, crystals, and small arcane implements vanished into the mercenaries' storage pouches.

The villagers begged.

No one listened.

A young mother knelt with a child in her arms, pleading for a mercenary to leave her the last few crystals she had.

He kicked her away and took them.

The child rolled out of her arms and hit the ground, wailing.

An old man with white hair stood in front of his house and refused to move.

A mercenary punched him in the face.

Teeth flew. Blood ran down his beard.

A boy barely ten years old was dragged out after trying to stop a mercenary from stealing the arcane implement his father had left behind.

The mercenary threw him down and stomped on his chest.

The sound of breaking ribs carried clearly through the night.

Alden's eyes went red.

"Stop! Stop this right now!"

He rushed forward and grabbed the arm of a mercenary smashing furniture. "Do you have any law left in you?"

The mercenary wrenched free and punched Alden in the chest.

Alden staggered back.

Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Law?"

Marcus sat above them on his spirit beast and looked down coldly.

"In Bermu City, the Ironblood Mercenary Company is the law."