The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5642

Winston's aura bled outward, blanketing every jagged cliff and bone-white boulder in Death Gorge until the air itself seemed nailed in place.

"Name's Jared Chance," Jared announced, meeting the lord's stare without blinking.

Winston's brows shot up. "Jared Chance? The same brat who supposedly butchered Prince Percival, the Grand Elder, Lord Myles, Lord Ashcroft, and half a dozen others?"

"That's right," Jared replied, nodding once. "Seems you're better informed than your trembling friend here."

Morcant's jaw sagged. He had never been high enough in Malevolent Path Hall to hear such secrets, and the revelation struck him like cold water, leaving him gaping at Jared as though seeing a nightmare made flesh.

"Lord Woodridge, can a mere Human Immortal Realm Level Three really slaughter Lord Myles or Lord Ashcroft?" Morcant asked, voice quivering.

"Of course not," Winston snorted. "The brat had help. Prince Percival, the Grand Elder, and Lord Ashcroft were all cut down by Maxwell, the first hall master of Celestial Palace—our own investigations proved it. As for Lord Myles, we still don't know who did it, but it sure as hell wasn't this kid. He doesn't have that kind of bite."

Morcant flinched at the name. Even the distant Celestial King—standing stupefied among shattered rocks—suffered an involuntary shiver when Maxwell's legend surfaced.

Jared, listening, could only marvel that Malevolent Path Hall's intelligence network reached that deep, ferreting out truths he had hoped were buried.

Sylvia shot Jared a sidelong glance. The power behind him... could it really be Maxwell? The question flickered unspoken in her eyes.

"Since you're aware I'm not acting alone," Jared said, "why not do yourself a favor and walk away?"

Winston threw his head back and barked a laugh. "Maxwell broke from the void passage and disintegrated—body and soul—ages ago. You think dangling his ghost in front of me will make me run?"

Winston threw his head back and laughed, a gravelly roar that ricocheted off the stone pillars like rolling thunder. Jared stiffened. The name of Maxwell—once enough to freeze lesser men—had slid off Winston's hide like rain off iron, leaving Jared exposed and, for one uneasy heartbeat, painfully unsure of himself.

Drawing a steadier breath than he felt, Jared lifted his eyes to the towering figure. "What is it you're after?"

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