A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6199

The Grand Basilica, Empyrean Hall.

Thirty-six ancient star-orbs hung high beneath the vault, circling day and night, casting the entire hall in blazing gold. The floor was laid from a single piece of riverborn celestial jade, polished bright enough to reflect a person's face. Every inch of it carried the weight of absolute authority.

This was the core of the Celestial Palace's power, the holy ground countless cultivators across the heavens looked up to. On ordinary days, the hall was always orderly and severe. But today, a suffocating stillness had sealed over everything.

Godric sat on the seat of honor in the Empyrean Hall.

He wore the black Hall Master robe trimmed in gold. At its hem were embroidered patterns of divine clouds across the nine heavens and myriads of beasts bowing in worship. A purple-gold crown rested on his head. His face had always been stern and imposing, the kind that naturally looked down on all living things.

But right now, that face, usually still as an ancient well, had turned so dark it looked like the sky before a storm broke. Heavy clouds seemed to gather over him, as if world-ending thunder might fall the next instant.

His fingers slowly tightened.

In his palm, he held a life sigil that had just shattered completely.

The life sigil had been refined from ancient spirit wood. It stood for both the status and the life of a Celestial Palace Elder. Across its surface, three forceful old characters had once been carved into it, carrying endless authority—Grand Elder.

But now, that life sigil, which had carried the life force of a True Immortal Realm Level One expert, had split into pieces. Cracks spread across it like a spiderweb. The warm spiritual light it once held had vanished completely, leaving only dead gray silence behind.

That could only mean one thing. Its master had already suffered utter soul-ruin. Dead. Gone. Not even a shred of remnant soul remained.

The hall was utterly silent.

More than ten cultivators in elder robes stood with their heads lowered on both sides. Each one kept their breathing so light it was barely there. Not one of them dared make a sound.

Every one of them held power and status inside the Celestial Palace. On any other day, they each commanded a region and stirred storms with a word. But under the pressure of Godric's fury right now, not one of them even had the nerve to look up at him.

Everyone knew what the Grand Elder meant to the Celestial Palace.

He wasn't just one of its pillars. He was also Godric's most trusted and most relied-upon confidant. He had followed Godric for thousands of years, lived and fought at his side, stayed loyal without fail, and handled countless impossible problems. He was one of the true stabilizing pillars of the Celestial Palace.

Now his life sigil had shattered. It was the same as cutting off one of Godric's arms. The Hall Master's rage was enough to burn everything to ash.

And right in that silence, so thick it nearly stopped breath itself.

"Report!"

A shrill, ragged cry tore in from outside the Empyrean Hall.

The voice shook so hard it almost split apart, and the fear in it cut straight through the dead stillness hanging over the great hall.

In the next breath, a cultivator in an inner-court disciple's robes stumbled into the hall. His clothes were in disarray, his hair knot hung crooked, and cold sweat covered his face.

He rushed to the middle of the hall, then his legs gave out. He dropped hard to one knee, his forehead nearly pressed against the icy divine jade floor.

"H-Hall Master!"

The disciple's teeth chattered. His voice shook so badly the words seemed forced out of his throat one by one. "The fifty elites sent to the Demon Dragon Hall... they're all dead. All of them. Not one survived. Not one came back."

"What?!"

A shout burst out, sharp with shock and fury.

At the head of the line on the left, Rufus shot to his feet. Spiritual power slammed out of him, and his wide Elder's robe snapped and billowed without any wind.

His eyes went wide. Disbelief flooded his face, and all the color drained out of it in an instant, leaving only a stark, ashen blankness.

"Fifty elites? Those were the strongest our Celestial Palace handpicked. Every one of them was at least High Immortal Realm Level Eight!"

Boom!

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