A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5515

Truth was, his early swagger had rested on a single fact—Jared stood only steps away.

Yet Jared remained motionless, arms folded, watching Flaxseed's frantic dance with an almost amused curve to his lips.

"Are you still frozen, kid? Fine. After I'm done, you can have your turn!" Flaxseed shouted, skidding through another plume of dust.

Jared's brows knit. Talking about "taking turns" with the terrified girl made Flaxseed no better than the thugs they were facing.

The woman heard the implication too; her knees pressed together, a tremor of dread racing up her spine.

She realized then that Flaxseed's "rescue" might spare her life yet not her dignity; escape from disgrace seemed impossible.

"Stop!" Jared's voice cracked like lightning across the wasteland. In the same breath, he stepped forward, body flowing out of the wind as though he had always been part of it.

His eyes, cold and bright, fixed on the black-robed men—twin blades drawn without steel.

Startled, the two attackers recoiled; Jared's composure carried the weight of someone far above their pay grade. But a heartbeat later, duty reasserted itself, and the smirks returned.

A quick probe of his aura told them he was only an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Five cultivator. Their earlier fear vanished in an instant; a runt at that level, they believed, could be flattened with a flick of the wrist.

The taller of the two black-clad cultivators let out a contemptuous snort. "You don't deserve to know who we are. Walk away and mind your own business, or I will haul you off with the rest of these peasants."

Arrogance soaked every syllable, as though Jared were no more than an insect buzzing at the man's boots.

"Oh? So your background is supposed to impress me?" Jared asked, one eyebrow lifting in lazy contempt.

His lips curved into a thin, mocking smile. The expression carried an unmistakable note of disdain, as though he found their bravado quaint.

Irate at Jared's tone, the shorter man hissed, "Since you crave death, I shall oblige. Listen well. We are cultivators of the Sixth Hall of the Celestial Palace. Leave now, or blame yourself when we get rough."

"The Sixth Hall?"

Flaxseed's expression changed.

I spent months scouring the realm, and now what I'm searching for strolls right up to me.

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