A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 6490

While doubt still pressed in on him, Master Wellspring's gaze suddenly locked onto the fly-whisk in the old steward's hand.

In that instant, his whole body shook hard. His pupils tightened, his breath cut off, and a storm broke loose inside him.

That fly-whisk had been carved into his memory. He could not forget it, not in this life.

Inside the ancestral shrine of Wellspring Order hung the portraits of the ancestral patriarchs.

And in the portrait of the Founding Patriarch, the ancient forefather who had established Wellspring Order's thousand-year lineage held a white-jade fly-whisk in his hand—one with the exact same shape, texture, and luster as the one before him now.

That object was the lifebound arcane implement of the Founding Patriarch of Wellspring Order. It should have vanished without a trace a thousand years ago, when the Patriarch fell. How could it appear here in the Primordial Sanctuary, held by an unknown phantom?

Every certainty inside Master Wellspring was dragged apart at once. The sight hammered at his mind, tangled with questions he could not untie and a fact he could not accept.

His lips trembled slightly. When his voice came out, it was dry and unsteady, and it carried a weight that refused to sound casual.

"You... you're the patriarch of Wellspring Order?"

The old man in white gave away no clear confirmation, but he offered no direct denial either.

He merely lifted the corners of his mouth in a faint, distant smile. It was gentle, obscure, and threaded with the wear of someone who had seen through too much of the world.

The next instant, the old steward slowly raised his right hand. His thin, long fingers flicked lightly upward.

A cluster of soft, pure white light gathered rapidly in his palm. In the blink of an eye, it became a huge white palm of light.

The palm's outline was sharp, its spiritual light warm and smooth. It carried no violent aura of slaughter, yet it bore a heavy oppressive force as it tore through the murky fog and came crashing straight down toward Master Wellspring.

The white light fell with terrifying speed. In a flash, it was already bearing down on him, leaving Master Wellspring no time to think, much less hesitate.

The guard he had held ready snapped open on instinct. Master Wellspring's pupils tightened, and green spiritual power surged out of him without the slightest restraint.

His right hand seized the sword hilt at his waist. With a sharp twist of his wrist, a clear metallic ring cut through the fog. Willowbrand left its sheath, its cold edge flashing as it sliced through the muddy gray mist.

"Hah!"

The low shout scattered the air around him. Pure Aureate Way spiritual power poured into the blade, and a dense green glow flared instantly over the clear sword edge.

That spiritual light condensed into a razor-sharp blade-flare. Carrying a force that allowed no retreat, it met the giant white palm head-on and slashed straight out.

Boom—!

Green radiance and white light collided violently. Two completely different powers exploded at the same instant.

Blinding waves of light swept in every direction. The murky fog was blasted apart by force, and from the point of impact, a clear ring of air rolled outward.

A deafening roar echoed through the dead-still secret realm and refused to fade for a long time.

The savage recoil came rushing back through the blade and slammed straight into Master Wellspring's body.

The murky soil underfoot caved in at once. Under that enormous counterforce, his legs slid backward before he could stop them.

One step. Two steps. Three steps...

Only after retreating more than ten full steps did Master Wellspring manage to force himself steady.

"The web between his thumb and forefinger had split open from the shock.

Thin lines of blood crept down the sword hilt, warm and steady, soaking into the ancient cloud patterns and leaving a harsh red stain against the blue-green blade."

His face went stark white. Blood churned through his chest, and sweetness rose in his throat, but he forced the metallic rush back down before it could spill out.

The muscles along his back pulled tight. His arm trembled faintly, his spiritual power ran wild inside him, and sharp pain kept stabbing through his meridians.

He lifted his eyes and stared at the white-robed phantom in the distance. His gaze stayed fixed there, unable to take in what had just happened.

"It had been only a casual palm strike. No gathering of power. No killing move.

With nothing more than that plain force, the phantom had injured him and driven him back, even though he was a cultivator at the early phase of Golden Immortal Level Three."

The phantom's true cultivation stood far above his own. It had reached beyond peak Golden Immortal Level Three and pressed infinitely close to Golden Immortal Level Four.

The gap between them was too wide to miss.

"Strike!"

Silas's cold shout cut through the air.

The instant Master Wellspring began sliding backward, Silas had already moved.

Black baleful energy erupted around him. His tight black clothes billowed slightly in the rushing air, and his body blurred, turning into a dark afterimage that vanished completely into the gray fog.

His speed had reached the extreme. The naked eye could not track his path at all.

In the next second, a black silhouette appeared without warning three feet behind the old man in white.

"Cold light flashed. The twin sable dirks at his waist left their sheaths at the same time, their blades glinting with a deep, icy sheen.

Their edges carried a condensed killing energy as they chopped down hard toward the vital point at the back of the old man's neck."

At that same moment, Luna made her move in perfect sync.

Her pale wrist flicked lightly. The white-jade fly-whisk in her hand burst with blinding white light.

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