The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5500

Determination crystallized behind Jared's steady gaze; whatever came next, he was prepared to meet it head-on.

Just then, Edison's sermon crested into a feverish crescendo.

He lifted his jade scepter high, and its radiance flared brighter than midday sunlight, a molten spear that forced every eye to squint.

The brilliance was so savage it seemed to burn straight through eyelids, imprinting crimson afterimages even on the most disciplined minds.

At the same instant, his gold robe rippled although no breeze stirred, buoyed by an invisible power that crowned him with eerie majesty.

"Now—draw the profound breath of heaven and earth into your bodies. Shatter your chains!" he thundered.

The command detonated like artillery, rolling across the hall until the very stone vibrated.

On cue, the gathered cultivators activated their techniques; multicolored auras blossomed around them as they strained to welcome what they believed was salvation.

Hope glazed their faces—hope of finally breaching the stubborn wall that had held them prisoner for so long.

None of them suspected they were inching toward an abyss carved for their souls alone.

Upon the Soul Convergence Altar, sigils winked, shedding ghost-blue light that hinted at secrets best left buried.

Kneeling in concentric rings, dozens of disciples wore expressions equal parts devotion and mania, swaddled in the narcotic atmosphere. Above them, Edison's chant burst from his lips, and the scepter blazed anew—an orbiting sun no mortal eye could endure.

A cold wave lapped at Jared's heart. Something is terribly wrong.

Years spent dancing along the edge of death had honed Jared's senses to a blade's point. In a heartbeat, he read the hidden gears of the ritual and saw the trap closing around everyone on the altar.

Once the guiding chant reached its peak, an unseen siphon would tear away most of the soul threads keeping these cultivators sane. Their bodies might live, he realized, but their minds would be left wandering—empty husks shambling through the rest of eternity.

We can't wait anymore. His eyes flew open. They were dark, still, and fathomless—as though winter had carved twin wells of ice in his face.

He slammed the jade scepter between the sword flash and the groove, barely catching the strike. Even so, spiderweb cracks raced through the runic stones beneath the platform.

Soul threads that had been flowing obediently toward the recess jolted to a halt—choked as though an unseen hand had closed around their throats.

Across the plaza, hundreds of cultivators snapped out of their trance. Glassy eyes fluttered open, meeting the chaos with mute confusion. Moments ago, they had tasted the edge of enlightenment. Now they stared, bewildered, at the storm of flame and steel erupting before them.

Seeing the spell unravel, Edison's previously serene mask shattered. Rage warped his features into something wolfish.

"Fellow cultivators!" he barked, stabbing a furious finger at Jared. "That man is a demon spy. He fears the heavens aiding your breakthrough and has attacked to keep us weak. Are you going to let him rob you of your future?"

The crowd erupted. Raw resentment, still smoldering from their interrupted advancement, now found an easy target.

They had waited months—years, some of them—for this single step forward. To have it stolen in the final heartbeat lit a fire hotter than reason. Angry murmurs became a roaring tide.