A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6082

Night had not fallen, yet the mountainside looked darker than dusk.

Flames, blood, and drifting ash turned the slope into something that felt borrowed from a lower hell.

Everywhere Jared looked, pilgrims sprawled across broken flagstones.

Their limbs twitched, voices cracked into sobs and prayers that dissolved into raw screams.

Ribbons of crimson light tugged at their chests.

The blood essence tore free, gathered into thin streams, and arrowed uphill toward the summit.

Bodies with little cultivation shriveled in seconds, skin clinging to bone.

Those with deeper reserves knelt shaking, hands digging at the ground while they tried and failed to hold their life inside.

Overhead, eight pillars of blood-red radiance locked together, forming a cage that wrapped the entire Sacred Mountain.

Between those pillars, energy braided itself into chains.

Each link pulsed, tightening the prison even as more blood threads joined the weave.

Jared followed the lattice with his eyes until the pattern vanished in clouds above the peak.

Cold light settled behind his gaze.

He flared into motion again, a single streak climbing the same invisible paths the blood took, driving straight for the summit.

The higher he flew, the heavier the pull.

Blood-red mist thickened, trying to claw heat from his veins.

The chaotic force inside him swallowed each tug before it could bite.

At mid-slope, the haze condensed into resistance thick as mud.

Without that same chaotic core, even he might have begun to bleed.

A sudden cluster of silhouettes stepped out of the storm ahead.

They spread shoulder-to-shoulder across the ledge and blocked the ascent.

Their leader, a white-haired elder in a gold celestial robe, stood motionless.

His breath ran deep and tidal—Top Level High Immortal Realm Level Eight.

Twelve gilded celestial generals arranged themselves behind him.

Each one carried High Immortal Realm Level Six or Level Seven power that rolled off their armor in metallic waves.

"Halt," the elder said, voice calm enough to be mistaken for courtesy.

He added, "The Sacred Mountain is restricted.

Strangers keep out."

No threat, just fact.

Jared stopped mid-air and let silence hang a beat.

"You celestials lured pilgrims here for blood sacrifice.

You butcher thousands.

Does your Celestial Palace think no sky judges that crime?"

The elder allowed himself a small laugh.

"Sky judgment?

Inside the Fourteenth Firmament, the Palace is the sky.

And you—Jared from level thirteen, correct?"

Jared's brow rose.

"So you recognize me."

"Naturally."

The elder stroked his beard, still casual.

"You broke the Skyreach Path, slew a Grand Venerable, sent an Envoy fleeing.

The Hall Master remembers names that loud.

He asked us to recruit you if possible."

He paused, then made the offer clear.

"Join the Celestial Palace.

With your talent, you'd reach True Immortal inside a century.

Why die for the ants of the Lower Realm?"

Jared's smile showed teeth.

"Recruit me so one day you can drain me like these pilgrims?

Not interested."

The white-haired elder's pupils constricted.

"A sword that quick… and that domain…"

Fear finally edged his tone.

Respect followed.

"It seems the Hall Master underestimated you.

Your real strength borders High Immortal Realm Level Nine."

Jared leveled his blade, still steady.

"Step aside. You still can."

Jared lifted the Dragonslayer Sword and angled the point straight at the white-haired elder. The metal stayed rock-steady, gray light pulsing along its edge while cold intent funneled through Jared's grip and into that single, unwavering tip.

The white-haired elder let a small laugh roll out. "Young man, you are strong, I admit that much. But this is the Sacred Mountain, territory the Celestial Palace has cultivated for ten thousand years."

Both of his hands snapped together, fingers weaving seals faster than the eye could follow. "Allow me to show you the true power of the Sacred Mountain Grand Array."

As the last syllable left his lips, the entire mountain rumbled. Eight crimson pillars above sent down simultaneous beams of blood light that converged on the elder's chest like liquid lightning.

His aura soared by leaps: first past High Immortal Realm Level Eight's peak, then through Level Nine's beginner-phase, then into the middle-phase, until it finally jammed against Level Nine's top level and stopped climbing.

The elder's white hair bled into a glossy red, his pupils turned the color of coagulated gore, and swirls of blood light curled around him so thick they resembled a living shroud.

"With the Grand Blood Sacrifice Array reinforcing me," he rasped, "I can wield top-level Level Nine power for a short while."

His voice roughened into a scraping whisper. "Jared, to die under such a state should be an honor you cherish."

He drove his palm forward, fingers spread.

A blood-colored handprint the size of a storm cloud blotted out daylight.

Inside its center, countless wailing spirits twisted, and a monstrous suction yanked at Jared's blood essence and soul as though to drink him dry.

The strike carried Demonic Cultivation infused with the Grand Blood Sacrifice Array itself.

The weight of it drew a grim set to Jared's mouth; this single palm pressed against the threshold of True Immortal and sat firmly at the peak of High Immortal Realm Level Nine.

Meeting it head-on would be suicide.

He kicked backward, body cutting through the air, while the Dragonslayer Sword whipped out dozens of intersecting arcs that raced to meet the giant handprint.

Sword light bit into the bloody imprint like stones sinking into a lake, raising only faint ripples.

The imprint never slowed, hunting Jared across the sky.