A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5805

The Crimson Flame Gorge lay in the southwest quadrant of the Myriad Beast Mountains. Its name came from the strange scarlet fire that burned, eternal and soundless, in the canyon's deepest throat.

The cliffs on either side climbed like sheer red knives. Centuries of searing heat had scorched their surfaces into dark-maroon glass, so hot the very air wavered in trembling waves.

Few plants dared survive here. Only fire-loving ferns and crusts of copper-green lichen clung stubbornly to cracks in the stone, their presence a quiet testament to nature's will to live.

Clara led Paxton and the battered remnants of the Myriad Beast Sect through that furnace of stone. By the time they reached the gorge's final chamber, every step felt like dragging lead. Days of pursuit, nerves stretched taut, wounds left half-dressed—the price showed in their eyes: drained hope hanging by a frayed thread.

At last, they stopped before a wall of red crystal that soared three hundred feet, polished smooth as a mirror. It was not ordinary rock but Crimson Flame Crystal, veined with sparks of molten gold.

A thin film of pale-gold fire crawled across its face—quiet, nearly gentle, and yet so hot that even the air buckled and writhed.

This was the hidden gate into the Blazefire Secret Realm.

"Here," she whispered, voice cracking but resolute.

Her cheeks were flushed an unhealthy rose from the heat, yet a fragile spark of hope lit her eyes. Turning to her weary companions, she managed a steady nod. "Give me a moment. I'll open the way."

Paxton and the other beasts stared at that burning wall. Roaring, unspent fire-energy pulsed behind the crystal—raw, pure, and powerful enough to cloak them from any hunter.

Perhaps, they dared to believe, the secret realm could become a refuge no Infinite Soul Demon Sect hound would sniff out.

Clara took a deep breath, swallowed pain and exhaustion, stepped within ten paces of the wall, and produced a pendant shaped like a crimson feather—an identical twin to the one she had once entrusted to Jared.

Forming quick seals, she transmuted the last of the sword energy into blazing spiritual fire and poured it into the talisman.

A phoenix cry rang out. Scarlet light erupted, spearing into the heart of the flaming wall. At the same time, her mind etched a complicated sigil, line after luminous line, across the surface of her own soul.

Just as the final stroke brightened and the flames on the wall began to pulse in rhythmic waves, an outline of a doorway shimmered into existence.

A single, cold snort cracked through the gorge like thunder, harsh enough to rattle bones.

The sound carried a spear-point of soul-piercing power and blistering sword intent. Clara took the blow full on. Agony detonated behind her eyes, shattering the sigil she was weaving.

She gasped, a thin thread of blood slipping from the corner of her mouth, and staggered backward. The talisman's glow guttered, then died. The half-formed gateway crumbled, flames rushing back to erase every trace of passage. Hope winked out with it.

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