The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6241

Night hung heavy, like black silk soaked in ink wrapping itself around the world.

Only a single moon hung in the sky, its cold light washing the barren mountains and wild ridges in a thin, deathly white.

The wind gave off a low, grieving sound.

Everywhere else was dead quiet.

Deep in the night, a dark mass of people rushed along the rugged mountain road under the moonlight.

The man at the front stood straight even in his ruin, and that man was none other than Godric, the former Lord of the Basilica who had once shaken an entire region.

More than 200 surviving disciples followed behind him.

Every one of them wore tattered clothes. Their faces were drawn. Blood vessels webbed their eyes, and their steps had already gone light and loose, but not one of them dared stop.

Ever since they started running for their lives, they had picked only the most dangerous paths, the kind no one ever used, hiding by day and moving by night.

During the day, they hid in dark caves or deep inside the forest.

They didn't dare light a fire and filled their stomachs with nothing but dry rations and cold fruit. At the slightest stir, the whole group tightened like startled birds.

Godric walked at the very front, and every step looked as if it carried the weight of lead.

His face stayed dark and still.

The muscles along his body remained drawn tight. The deep, sharp gaze he used to carry was gone now. What remained showed only wear, disgrace, and the last edge of a man being driven into the wall.

The destruction of the Sacred Mountain kept circling in his head like a nightmare that would not let go.

Jared's cold face kept surfacing before him, along with the sight of the Sacred Mountain collapsing and the Venerables turning to ash. Hatred and dread pressed in so hard they nearly swallowed him whole.

"Hall Master."

Elder Shaw dropped his voice and swept a wary look around them. "Another 100 miles, and we hit the border of the Luminous Sanctuary. Once we cross it, we're in the Demon Marches. That's forbidden ground for the righteous path. The pursuers probably won't dare follow us in."

Godric gave a slow nod and looked toward the place where the horizon met the sky.

Out there, the brilliant golden holy radiance cut off without warning.

Beyond it lay a gray, ruined stretch of land and rolling crimson demon mist, crouched there like some sleeping beast and leaking a savage presence.

That was the Demon Marches, where the demon race held its ground.

Demonic aura flooded the land, fell beasts roamed everywhere, and even cultivators of the righteous path went pale at the mention of it.

A bitter smile pulled at Godric's mouth.

He had once stood in the True Immortal Realm, held power over a whole region, and lived with people looking up at him from below.

Now he was running like a stray dog, forced to throw away what little dignity he had left and flee into the Demon Marches, the one place everyone despised, just to beg for shelter.

But the Celestial Palace was gone.

Its disciples were dead or broken in huge numbers, and Jared's pressure hung over his head like a blade.

Other than throwing himself at the mercy of the enemy demon race, there was no road left.

"Move."

The word came out of Godric's teeth.

He quickened his pace and rushed toward that patch of demon mist that made the skin crawl.

The disciples shrank back at it, but they still forced themselves onward.

If they wanted to live, all they could do was follow close behind him.

The night grew deeper.

After 2 hours of hard running, every one of them was bent over breathing hard, their clothes soaked through and then turned cold against their skin.

At last, the first strand of dark red demon mist brushed across their faces.

They had crossed the border and stepped onto the land of the Demon Marches.

The instant they went in, the sharp stink of sulfur mixed with thick demonic aura and slammed into their noses.

Coughing broke out one after another. The weaker ones turned pale and hurriedly worked their spiritual power, barely managing to keep it down.

Ahead of them stretched a wasteland plain, the dark red earth split open with cracks and not a single blade of grass in sight.

Far off, black mountain peaks ran on without end.

At their summits, living volcanoes burned year-round. Firelight and demonic aura twisted together overhead, staining the sky a heavy dark red and giving the whole world the bleak look of the end of days.

Godric forced down the unease climbing through him and motioned for everyone to steady themselves and keep moving.

The Demon Marches were danger from one end to the other. It wasn't just the savage fell beasts. There were fiends too, the kind that could worm their way into a person's the spirit and twist it.

Back when he stood in the True Immortal Realm, he could have cut a path through this place without slowing down. Now his the spirit had been damaged, his strength had fallen to half a step from the True Immortal Realm, and all he really had left was the foundation of the High Immortal Realm.

Even so, with his disciples behind him, he could only keep forcing himself forward. He took the lead, opened the way himself, and cut down the scattered low-rank fell beasts that lunged out along the road.

They kept that up for a full three days and three nights.

No one dared stop. They chewed dry rations, drank river water laced with faint demonic aura, and spent the nights in hidden caves with watches posted in turns.

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