Jared chance novel Chapter 6424

"The figure on the right was the complete opposite.

He was lean and thin, his posture straight, but there was no fierce, charging force in him."

"His face was cold and sinister, his complexion pale as if sunlight had never touched it.

There was no blood in that face at all. One look at him sent a chill through the bones and made the guard rise on its own."

"He held an ancient, plain-looking fly-whisk lightly in his hand.

The white hairs of the whisk were fine yet tough. No matter how the cold wind over the Wastelands screamed and tore at them, they did not move at all, not swaying, not trembling. It was no ordinary object."

"This was the relic left from ancient times, the Firmament Snare.

It specialized in laying formations to trap enemies, sealing the spirit, and supporting slaughter. Its power was impossible to measure at a glance."

"Strange streams of silver light drifted around him.

The aura was cold and twisted, nothing like the celestials' orthodox holy light. It was the Wraith-Maze killing art he had spent a hundred years cultivating in secret."

"It specialized in disturbing the spirit, scrambling the mind, and tearing apart spiritual awareness.

Without sound or warning, it could collapse an enemy's mental defenses and kill without drawing blood, vicious and ruthless to the extreme."

This man was the hidden strategist among the celestials—Marshal Grey.

"He, too, stood firmly at the peak of True Immortal Realm Level Nine.

He was not skilled at close-range, head-on brawling, but he had mastered the Elder Snare of Slaughter and the Mirage of Certain Death. He could set his plans across a thousand miles and calculate the movements of the human heart."

"He excelled at using formations to trap and kill groups of enemies.

An attacking force could vanish under his hand without a sound, wiped out before it understood where the danger had come from. His methods were treacherous, slippery, and impossible to guard against."

"Marshal Grey's eyes were deep as a cold abyss.

Layer upon layer of calculation hid at the bottom of them, and not the slightest ripple crossed his face."

"At that moment, his eyes narrowed a fraction as he watched the pillar of white light draw closer across the distant sky.

The corner of his lips slowly curved into something cold enough to bite, while killing intent stayed buried deep inside him."

"I predicted their marching route long ago. I spent three days and three nights in advance, using my own spirit as the guide, spiritual power as the foundation, and the murderous aura of the world as material, to lay down the Ninefold Malison."

"Marshal Grey gave the Firmament Snare's whisk a light flick of his wrist.

In the next instant, dense, unbroken stretches of strange silver formation patterns surfaced beneath the ground."

"The formation patterns wriggled and crawled like living things.

Thread after thread of cold murderous intent rose from them, spreading until it covered the entire outer wasteland."

"The ninefold array stacks layer by layer from the outer wasteland all the way to the gaol-gate entrance. Each ring locks into the next, each one supports the others, and attack and defense are fused into one.

As long as this group steps into the great array's range, they will be walking into the net themselves. Even with wings, they won't escape. Today, they are destined to be buried here."

Marshal Stone cut him a sidelong look and gave a cold snort, his tone carrying open disdain. "A mere ninefold formation? You're making far too much of this.

They're only a pack of wandering-cultivator rebels, a mob thrown together. Why go to all that trouble setting formations? My two fists alone are enough to crush every last one of them and slaughter them clean."

Marshal Grey shook his head lightly. For once, his expression lost its usual ease, and his voice came out grave. "Do not underestimate them. Marshal Vale's combat power was not weak, yet he still fell at the hands of Jared Chance's company;

Ashenbrand Gaol and Blackstone Gaol, two heavily garrisoned purgatory gaols, were breached one after the other, and their defending armies were wiped out to the last. That was no coincidence."

"These people have nerve, but they also have brains. Their fighting strength is no small thing, and they carry strange nascence force besides. Look down on them, and you hand yourself your own death."

"Behind the two marshals, three thousand armored elite celestial warriors had already formed ranks.

Their formation stood tight and clean, their military bearing severe, their presence rolling high enough to press against the sky."

"Golden orthodox holy light ran across them in one unbroken sheet.

It gathered into a glaring sea of radiance, throwing its brilliance over the dark Wastelands until the whole place shone, scattering most of the cold, baleful air that clung to the ground."

"The warriors carried all kinds of divine arms.

Longswords showed a bitter edge. Spears pointed straight ahead. War axes sat heavy and savage in mailed hands.

Every weapon was wrapped and strengthened by holy radiance, flashing with a lethal chill, the killing intent around them sharp enough to bite."

"Their breathing fell into the same rhythm. Their steps, when they shifted, kept the same beat.

Their minds were gathered, their will to fight pulled taut. All they waited for was one command, and then every last one of them would charge, surround the invaders, and cut them down."

"The Wastelands' cold wind howled without restraint.

It swept up fine, dark-red sand from the ground and slapped it hard against the rigid cuirass, raising a harsh, scraping hiss."

"The world had gone silent.

Only the wind scraped past the ear. Killing intent spread everywhere, bearing down until each breath came heavy."

"Everyone present understood the same thing.

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