A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5381

Celestia City's south gate fell behind as the escort pressed on toward the distant territory governed by the Third Hall.

Nearly two hours later, jagged cliffs narrowed into the throat of Soulless Valley—Ieuan's chosen stage.

Stone walls soared on either side, leaving only a ribbon of sky overhead and a single winding path below—a perfect bottleneck.

Ieuan reined in his horse, catching his deputy's eye with a subtle nod.

The deputy drew a deep breath, then barked, "Caution! Valley passage ahead—possible ambush. Shields up, eyes open!"

Steel hissed free of scabbards. Lances rose. The escort tightened ranks, every soldier scanning the cliffs.

Ieuan edged toward the carriage and spoke with paternal concern. "Princess Lorraine, Soulless Valley is treacherous. Please remain inside and avoid looking out."

"Your vigilance honors me, Prime Minister," Lorraine answered, voice serene though suspicion rippled beneath. I've heard that Soulless Valley is dangerous but barren of bandits. Why, then, his sudden alarm?

A sharp clatter of wooden clappers exploded from the heights. Black-robed cultivators plunged from the cliffs like a living avalanche, blades gleaming as they descended upon the royal guard.

Their auras struck the air with crushing force—each attacker at least Earthly Immortal Realm Level Eight, and the leaders at Level Nine, equal to Yuliana herself—an overwhelming storm aimed straight at the princess's coach.

A panicked cry cut through the clamor. "Bad news—those men belong to the Malevolent Path Hall!"

Feigning alarm, Ieuan threw back his cloak and bellowed, "Protect the princess! Push the raiders back—now!"

At once, the Guardian Army surged forward. Steel rang against steel while bursts of blinding spirit-light sheared the misty air.

Blades flashed, sigils flared, and the whole valley reverberated with thunderous collisions.

The black-robed cultivators had come prepared, their ferocity overwhelming the disciplined ranks. One by one, crimson splashes darkened the trampled grass.

Their captain spat a cold laugh. "Mr. Chapman, save your strength. We're taking the princess. If you want her, have King Aurelius ransom her with the Ritual Manual."

With a final feint, the raiders vanished among the trees, their dark silhouettes swallowed by the deeper valley beyond.

A glimmer of secret triumph flickered in Ieuan's eyes before he replaced it with frantic concern. "Clear the field," he ordered hoarsely. "We march for Celestia at once and report to His Majesty."

The troops obeyed without hesitation—gathering wreckage, lifting the wounded, and forming a battered column behind the prime minister.

All the way back, Ieuan limped, coughed, and dabbed carefully at imaginary blood, each falter reinforcing the illusion of grievous injury.

Meanwhile, Lorraine was hauled into a narrow, torch-lit cave hidden deep within the mountains.

The hand left her lips. "Who are you?" she demanded, voice shaking yet defiant. "Are you truly from Malevolent Path Hall?"