The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5790

Jared sighed inwardly. Showboating always came with a bill, and the bill had arrived on schedule.

"Very well..." he said at last, forcing a half-helpless smile. "It seems I must impose on you for a few days, Master Cloudridge."

Linden's laughter rang across the scarred battlefield. "Excellent! I knew you were a man who sees the larger picture."

The tension that had coiled in his shoulders slipped away.

Curiosity and guarded respect still churned behind the old swordsman's smile. A fiend who had shaken level nine a millennium ago was stirring again—he needed every scrap of information Jared could provide.

"Tend the wounded, gather the fallen blades, and form up for the march home," Linden commanded. Then he offered Jared a sweeping gesture toward the sky. "This way, my friend."

Jared glanced once toward the distant peaks where the Myriad Beast Sect waited. A faint ripple of unease stirred in his chest, but he pressed it down, stepped beside Linden, and together they streaked off as twin arcs of light toward the Myriad Sword Mountains.

Meanwhile, on the road that cut across the Blood-scar Plains toward the Infinite Soul Demon Sect headquarters, the defeated demon army marched beneath a crushing hush.

They had charged out like conquering wolves and now limped back like beaten strays. Worst of all, their lord, Sheldon, had been slapped clear across the field by a Level Seven Human Immortal upstart.

The shame hung over every soldier like a thundercloud, thick and suffocating.

Sheldon had swallowed a healing pill; the swelling had faded, yet the vivid imprint of five fingers still ghosted his cheek—a mark that burned fiercer than any wound.

"From what I have learned," the elder began, leaning in as though unveiling contraband, "the Myriad Beast Sect is far from united. Pure-blood beast clans hold power, yet a portion of their disciples are born from human or demon unions. Those hybrids are called the Melded Beastkin."

Sheldon's brow creased. "Melded Beastkin?"

"Exactly. By the world's laws, they inherit brutal strength and fragments of both parents' gifts, but their minds rarely develop fully. Many become impulsive, obsessive. Pure-blood clans treat them as mules—heavy labor, endless scorn. Their resentment has festered for years."

A dangerous glimmer returned to Sheldon's eyes. "You mean..."

"We slip into the mountains, find those hybrids with influence, and promise them riches beyond imagining," the elder whispered, excitement rising with every word. "If they overthrow Paxton and his pure-blood subordinates, our sect will recognize their rule, forge an alliance, even repair their flawed minds if they wish."