Jared chance novel Chapter 6429

By the time dawn neared, the last cold afterglow of night over the Northern Marches Wastelands had faded completely.

"The twin uncanny moons still hung alone in the heavens, one silver and one red.

Their cold light cut down like blades."

Cold light slashed at an angle through the carved skylights of the principal hall of the Celestial Alliance, then fell in a straight, pale shaft into the hall.

It struck the flagstone floor, cold and smooth as jade, and it struck just as hard across two battered figures below.

The glare cut into the eyes and seemed to drive deeper than sight.

Marshal Stone and Marshal Grey clutched each other by the arm, locked together as if letting go would drop them both. Each step sank heavy, their footing loose and unsteady.

Their robes hung torn to strips, soaked through with dark red bloodstains.

Dust from the road had mixed with blood and clung to their skin, leaving them ruined from head to toe.

Not a trace remained of the authority they once carried as foremost war champions guarding Northern Abyss Gaol and pressing their weight over the Northern Marches.

Every inch they dragged forward burned through what little strength still remained in them.

Their bodies swayed on the edge of collapse, as if the next breath might send them crashing to the floor.

Marshal Stone’s towering body had been tempered for 10 thousand years, once unbreakable, once impossible to shake. Now that old force was gone.

At the center of his chest, a savage hole the size of a fist punched clean through from front to back.

The flesh around it had been burned black and left rotting, while the meridians along the edges had all been scorched into char by chaos-flame.

A foul stink of blood and burned meat slowly spread around him.

"The Aurelian Deathless Body nascence lines that had once blazed across his chest and limbs had gone completely dark.

They lay silent like dead ash, without the faintest shine left in them."

Not even a thread of Aurelian spiritual power could surge through them anymore.

The supreme body he had cultivated through 10 thousand years of bitter effort had been broken at its foundation by Jared’s chaotic nascence force.

He had become like a dry stone split apart after endless wind and frost, hollowed through with wounds inside, while life kept draining out of him.

Those arms that once could shatter mountains and split boulders with a casual lift now hung powerless at his sides, trembling faintly.

Each breath pulled at the terrible wound in his chest, sending pain knifing deep into bone.

He could not keep himself from bending forward, hunched over as he dragged in great mouthfuls of air.

The massive frame that had once seemed able to hold up heaven and earth was now curled and bent, heavy with the air of decay.

Even the strength to straighten his back had been spent.

Marshal Grey’s condition was no better than Marshal Stone’s. He, too, had been driven into a desperate state by his injuries.

The Frostbrand had pierced straight through his right shoulder, leaving a clean, vicious sword wound where the flesh had frozen stiff and crusted over.

Inside, his meridians had snapped and torn. His nascence-wrought spiritual power leaked away in all directions, impossible to gather, impossible to circulate.

His entire left arm had been frostbitten deep by the utmost Ice-Seal frost.

The flesh had turned rigid and purple, and the cold kept burrowing along his meridians, eating into his spirit-well nascence.

Cold and numbness spread over him, leaving his limbs stiff and sluggish.

"The Firmament Snare’s whisk, the relic he had relied on all his life and carried through years of battle, had been ruined as well.

Most of the white hairs had snapped away, leaving the fly-whisk ragged and uneven."

The spiritual light of the formation that had once lingered over its surface had almost entirely scattered, leaving it dim and lifeless.

It could no longer lay out even half of a complete killing-and-binding great array.

The Frost-Deity Ice-Seal force left inside him clung like rot sunk into bone.

It crawled through his meridians, cutting at his spirit veins every moment and scraping against the spirit.

His focus could not hold steady, and every circulation of spiritual power snagged and stalled.

Even raising a hand to offer a formal salute took more out of him than it should have.

Those eyes had once measured every move from behind the curtain, dark, vicious, and impossible to read.

Now they were webbed with blood, and deep beneath them lingered the shadow of something he had not managed to shake off.

Not a trace of his old calculating ease remained.

Along both sides of the great hall, ranks of the celestial household guard and high-ranking cultivators stood on duty in strict formation.

Every gaze snapped to the two of them.

In the next second, every face went paper-white, and knees softened and trembled beyond control.

A chill shot straight through them to the crown of the skull, and even their breathing thinned without anyone ordering it.

No one dared make the slightest sound.

The hall fell so still that a dropped needle would have carried.

Only the heavy, ragged breathing of the two war champions echoed slowly within the great hall.

They had guarded the High Hall of the Celestial Alliance for years.

Day after day, they had seen the two great war champions standing in divine authority, striking hard and deciding life and death without hesitation.

Those two had held the bulwark of the Northern Marches and kept cultivators of every kin pressed firmly beneath them.

They had always won every battle and broken every enemy before them.

Who among the guards had ever seen them reduced to this—battered, broken, their blood vitality running thin?

They were powerful adepts at the peak of True Immortal Realm Level Nine, the two strongest bulwarks of the Celestial Alliance's northern region.

Yet someone had beaten them into crippled, wounded bodies and forced them to flee back to the Alliance heartland in disgrace.

An invisible wash of ice seemed to soak straight through the hearts of every watch-standing cultivator in an instant.

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