The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5472

Jared stayed silent. If he steered clear of Malevolent Path Hall, who would free the captive souls of Flaxseed's kin?

Seeing the resolve in his eyes, Onneas said no more. With a flick of her sleeve, she opened a shimmering void passage. The Golden Armor Guards filed in behind her, armor glinting in the fractured sunlight.

The void passage snapped shut, and their presence was gone—leaving Celestia City unsettlingly quiet once more.

Jared stayed behind in level six, laboring beside Aurelius to raise Celestia City from its ruins, and retreating each night into the Pentacarna Tower to cultivate.

Yet with every meditation, he sensed the shadow of mightier foes; his current strength could no longer keep pace.

Whenever Artemis arrived with her Herb Sect disciples, she would guide Jared through another round of bloodline fusion.

Yuliana surrendered completely—mind, body, and destiny—claiming her place at Jared's side.

Infinides often found him tangled in silken sheets and female laughter, but the old man merely sighed; in this path, pleasure, too, was cultivation. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, the river of time rushing past like silver rain.

Exactly three months had slipped away since that earth-shaking battle.

High upon the Pentacarna Tower, Jared stood motionless, eyes shut, thick ribbons of spiritual aura spiraling around him.

Three months of grinding seclusion had forced a qualitative metamorphosis within his core. Suddenly, a muffled thunder rolled from deep inside his chest. His aura erupted, yanking the surrounding essence toward him in a raging tide.

"Earthly Immortal Realm Level Five at last!" Jared whispered, disbelief and triumph knotted in his throat.

His eyes opened slowly, twin shards of starlight cutting through the dim chamber.

For these three months, he had virtually lived within the tower's shifting labyrinth of runes.

Inside, one day equaled decades in the outside world.

Had its reserves not run dry, he would have gladly lingered longer.

He knew he remained unready for level nine, and even the chaos of level eight would press him hard.

Jared finished his final sentence, the echo still swirling through the stone corridors, then stepped out of the Pentacarna Tower and into the late-afternoon light.

Across Celestia City, the work of resurrection moved with clockwork precision. From the top of the crimson-streaked battlements, Aurelius watched the organized chaos below, a tide of scaffolds, carts, and chanting cultivators.

Three months earlier, a single cataclysm had hammered the capital flat, turning marble palaces into rubble and driving families into the roads.

Now, through relentless labor and stubborn hope, the city was stitching its grandeur back together, block by patient block.

Aurelius swept his gaze over the reborn streets, a weary but genuine smile softening the steel in his eyes.

"King Aurelius, the eastern rampart stands finished," a robed cultivator reported, fist to chest.

"Good. Tell the crews perfection is non-negotiable—no shortcuts, no excuses," Aurelius answered, his voice quiet but edged with iron.

"Yes, King Aurelius!"