The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5989

"Buying."

Jared stepped closer, letting the lamplight find his face. "A public execution in Jade Immortal City, recently—a man and a woman. I want every detail. Who swung the blade, what led to it, and where the bodies rest."

The dagger paused mid-stroke.

The old man’s filmed eyes lifted and drifted over Luther before pinning Jared, lingering just long enough to note a Heavenly Immortal Realm signature where he’d expected less.

A smear of amusement cracked his throat.

"This information isn’t cheap."

"How much?"

Jared kept his tone even, as though inquiring after the price of bread.

Three fingers rose from his scarred fist.

"Thirty thousand high-grade prime crystals."

"Thirty thousand?" The number tasted like iron filings.

Beside him Luther sucked in a sharp breath that whistled like new steel.

Jared ran the math: in level thirteen that sum could swing a fine high-grade artifact, or bankroll an ordinary cultivator’s decades of comfort.

A robbery spelled out in digits, yet the old man’s face remained calm stone.

Jared felt his brow knit, the weight of the wrinkles equal to the weight of the price.

The coins in his spatial pouch—Cyril’s generous advance plus everything he’d converted from level twelve—barely cleared five thousand. A gulf yawned between need and means.

The brass counter felt colder than it looked; Jared let two fingers rest on it, steadying the tremor in his chest.

"Would another treasure serve as collateral?"

The old merchant’s eyelids barely lifted; the movement reminded Jared of a tortoise refusing to stick its neck out.

"We trade only in prime crystals—no credit, no pawns."

Cold light rippled across Jared’s vision before he understood it came from his own eyes.

Beneath his ribs the sealed reservoir of chaotic force shifted, like storm water straining against a dam.

Every tick of the hanging clock sounded louder than the last.

He could feel impatience raking its nails along his spine, urging him to drag answers out of the merchant by force.

Luther’s voice knifed into Jared’s mind before sound reached his ears.

"Mr. Chance, stop. Wards layer this place. The old fool’s strength is masked, his backers unknown. Force him and we might wake Jade Immortal Manor—or worse, the celestials."

Jared drew in air so slowly his lungs burned, chaining the reckless surge back behind bone and will.

Luther was right; this was celestial turf, where one wrong vibration could summon a tribunal.

A ragged flap of cloth snapped aside behind the counter.

A bruised youth shot out footfirst, stumbled, and kissed the floorboards with his cheek.

From behind the cloth came a roar thick with phlegm.

"Get out! Bring fake leads again and I’ll snap your legs next time!"

The words rattled across the shelves, making dusty vials vibrate like frightened teeth.

The youth pressed a bloody lip against his sleeve, then scrambled for the door, half crawling, half sliding on panic-slick boots.

An idea flicked like tinder inside Jared’s head; he tapped the counter to reclaim the merchant’s gaze.

"We’ll revisit the price later," he said, already turning toward the doorway.

He caught Luther’s sleeve and slipped into the street before the old man could object.

The battered youth limped toward the alley mouth; Jared and Luther shadowed him, matching every stride with softer ones.

At the corner they stepped ahead, blocking sunlight and escape in the same motion.

The youth jerked back, eyes fever-bright behind swelling bruises.

"What do you want? I’m broke!"

Jared lifted both palms, letting the alley’s weak light show he carried no weapon.

"Easy, friend. No harm meant."

He loosened a cotton pouch; muted blue glints of prime crystals spilled against the fabric.

"Answer a few questions and the bag is yours."

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