A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5986

Pillars of Ten-Thousand-Year Profound Ice jutted up from the center, each streaked with old, dark blood. Breath misted around Jared, tasting of iron and frost—this was the Execution Platform.

Jared edged closer to the wooden railing, the rough grain biting his palms as he looked down. Thousands of robed cultivators jammed the plaza—locals, drifters, people with nowhere else to stare at someone else’s doom.

Directly ahead, the Ice-Jade Throne shimmered on its dais, its surface sweating cold light, and yet the seat—sharp, arrogant—waited empty.

The absence told Jared the City Lord had not arrived; the plaza held its breath around that single, glittering vacancy.

A steel-throated voice cracked the air, "Kneel!"

Armor clanged. Guards forced the bound prisoners flat, faces pressed toward the throne they could not touch.

Someone on the platform bellowed, "The City Lord arrives!"

A lance of blue-white light speared from the horizon, crossing the sky in one breath and slamming to a stop before the throne.

When the glare dissolved, a middle-aged Daoist in ice-blue robes stood there, cheeks thin, eyes colder than the stone beneath his boots.

Each blink from those eyes poured silent force; Jared felt it settle in his lungs—this was Cyril, Lord Coldabyss, master at High Immortal Realm Level Five.

Temperature crashed. Frost blossomed across armor plates and shoulders; the chatter of the crowd knotted, then died.

Cyril’s gaze drifted over the crouching prisoners, indifferent, as though measuring insects before choosing which heel to use.

One of them, unable to swallow the silence, cried out, "City Lord, we are wronged! We are not spies from the Azure Firmament Immortal Continent! The celestials hounded us; we fled here!"

The young man’s voice shredded itself on the last syllable, leaving a raw echo.

The Guard Captain strode forward, gauntlet rising to silence him. "Insolence! Death stands over your necks, and still you spit lies."

Cyril spoke, calm as glacial water. "Wait."

At once the Captain froze, withdrew, head bowed.

Cyril regarded the young cultivator. "Oppressed by celestials? Refugees? How can I know this tale isn’t a cover to infiltrate my city?"

"If Azure Firmament truly lies under celestial chains, why has the eastern region heard nothing?"

The youth shook, voice climbing. "The celestials are vast; they choke the news! Anyone who dares speak vanishes, throat slit and soul burned!"

"If you doubt, send scouts to Azure Firmament!" he pleaded. "I swear on my Dao-heart—one false word and may heaven erase me forever!"

Chains rattled as the other prisoners echoed the vow, tears streaking dirt into pale lines.

A crease formed between Cyril’s brows; doubt, thin but living, cracked his frost.

Jared knew the lord was no butcher; this purge came from fear. If Azure Firmament marched north, Coldabyss would be the first wall to break.

But what if the youths were truly blameless? The doubt tasted like iron on Jared’s tongue.

He drew a slow breath and let his own voice rise.

He let the words leave him unforced, barely louder than a conversation, yet the marble chamber caught them and carried them to every corner.

"Lord Coldabyss, what they said is true."

A sharp hush cut through the assembly, the kind of sound that belonged to steel unsheathing.

Hundreds of gazes swung toward him at once; Jared felt the weight settle on his shoulders like fresh iron.

On the dais, Cyril's eyes narrowed to a cold sliver.

"And you are? What makes you so certain?"

Jared rose slowly, letting the Cold-Iron Shackles dangle, the links already fractured by the ripple of chaotic force he had sent through them minutes earlier.

They now rested on his wrists like souvenir chains, meaningless but noisy.

Around him, spears lifted a fraction, armor plates rasping as the nearest sentries tightened their stance.

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