The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6015

Jared nodded as though sympathizing. "Are the celestials’ roots in the Azure Firmament really that deep? Do they maintain a foothold here?"

She glanced left and right, confirmed the floor was empty, then leaned so close her breath brushed his ear.

"Of course," she murmured. "At the border between the eastern and central regions they’ve built an immense Divine Punishment Hall—one of their most important strongholds here."

"Five celestial venerables sit inside, their power bottomless. They oversee every faction, send emissaries with Divine Oracles, collect tributes… and something else, something unusual."

Jared leaned closer, keeping his voice mild. "Something special?"

A cold prickle spread beneath his ribs, yet he only let his brows lift in polite, almost boyish curiosity.

Rania pressed her lips together, a soft "Hmm…" slipping out while her eyes searched the ceiling.

She pinched the space between her brows, digging through half-forbidden memories. "I'm not really sure," she admitted. "Father told me prying into celestial business never ends well."

"All I caught," she went on, "was Father and Mr. Fay whispering about certain special prisoners, some process that extracts… crystals, their word, not mine. The idea alone made my skin crawl."

A tremor chased up her arms, and she hugged herself as though the room had turned colder.

A weight dropped in Jared’s gut, heavier than the stone shelves around them.

Special prisoners. Crystal extraction. Soul-Refining Crystal—the name slammed against his thoughts with a metallic clang.

So, his hunch had been right all along.

Divine Punishment Hall—the name carried the stink of blood.

And five celestial venerables stationed inside, each one a mountain he had to climb.

Information like this wasn’t just useful—it was a razor he could hold to their throats.

He drew a breath, ready to pry deeper. Rania, however, shook her head, strands of hair brushing his sleeve. "That's everything. Father forbids talk about celestials. Let's drop it—it’s bad luck."

So even Julian kept his own daughter in the dark; that told Jared just how deep the fear ran.

He let the subject die and lifted a new scroll, pointing out a delicate rune to steer them back toward talk of ancient arrays.

Rania’s eyes sparked, the previous gloom washing off her face as she threw herself into their "academic exchange" once more.

Unnoticed hours rolled by. Outside, dusk bled across the sky, and inside the pavilion soft pearl-lamps blossomed between the shelves.

"Ah, it's already so late!" Rania gasped, startled back into the present.

Color stole up her cheeks, a smile tugging yet reluctant. She didn’t want the night to end.

Jared noted the tiny disappointed crease at the corner of her mouth and silently agreed—time with a useful ally always moved too fast.

Jared offered a sincere bow of the head. "Many thanks, Ms. Rania. You've broadened my horizons."

She waved both hands, flustered. "Mr. Chance, you're the one helping me."

A gentle flush tinted her cheeks. "Discussing scholarship with you is the happiest I've ever been," she murmured.

She lifted her gaze; the lantern-light turned her eyes into shimmering pools, every blink sending another ripple of affection toward him.

Dim glow softened every line of her face, weaving dreamlike allure; the library lay hushed, broken only by their breathing and the thud of two quickening hearts.

An invisible thread stretched taut between them, trembling with a sweet, dangerous current.

Rania’s pulse hammered so loudly Jared could almost see it fluttering at her throat, and her fingers tightened around the edge of the jade slip she still held.

She drank in the clean, cool scent clinging to him, the short distance between them now a furnace. Lightheaded, she hovered inches from his chest.

Sense whispered that she was racing ahead, casting her upbringing aside, yet the warning barely reached her burning cheeks.

But the brakes were gone; her heart, hands, every breath lunged toward him.

Tall shelves threw long bars of shadow, hiding the blazing, forbidden scene from any wandering gaze.

Clothing loosened, layer after layer sliding away; ragged breaths thickened, mingling in the still air.

Somewhere under his fingertips he felt the last resistance of a bright, proud girl snap, emotion sweeping aside the clever caution that had shone in her eyes.

She moved with wholehearted trust, offering the most guarded part of herself to a man she had known for barely two days yet already believed indispensable.

Jared tasted eagerness and, behind it, the sweet certainty that every moment had unfolded exactly as he had arranged from the start.

He wondered whether she grasped that this surrender might ripple through the whole of Jade Immortal Manor, but her soft sigh against his throat said she suspected nothing.

To him, the tenderness was a tool—necessary, even delicate, but still a tool—for inching closer to his real goal.

Desire tangled with strategy; as her heartbeat echoed under his palm, he sensed another shutter inside the manor’s secrets cracking open for him.

For a sliver of a second he pictured the moment she would discover the lie and wondered which would break first—her trust or her heart.

The night deepened; the heady hush within the stacks finally ebbed, leaving only the faint pulse of spirit light and the slowing rhythm of two mingled breaths.

Afterward, Rania curled against his chest, cheeks still warm, drawing idle circles over his heart with one lazy fingertip.

A hesitant whisper drifted up: "Jared…"

Her voice, syrup-soft for the first time, sought promise. "You’ll stay with me, won’t you?"

Running his fingers through her silky hair, he answered gently, "So long as you never tire of me."

"How could I ever tire of you!" she blurted, lifting her head in earnest protest.

Eyes shining, Rania declared, "When Father finishes seclusion, I’ll tell him I want to marry you. He adores me; he’ll agree."

Jared answered with a gentle squeeze, yet his gaze slid past her to the window, fixing on the dense night beyond—deep, measuring, merciless.