The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5257

The tower guards blanched. They started forward, then froze beneath Damian's killing aura. He dusted his hands, swagger writ large. “Anyone else dissatisfied? Touch my buddy, and this is your fate. Hell, I might tear this whole shack down today!”

Jared whistled under his breath. This guy can out-brag even me.

“Do it.” With a flick of his wrist, Damian signaled his crew, ready to dismantle the tower beam by beam.

An eerie voice slithered from the tower's depths. “Quite the boast. How dare you do as you please here? Think I don't exist?”

Footsteps squelched across the blood-stained floor, and a fat woman waddled into view. Folds of flesh crowded her face, forcing her features into a grotesque knot, yet the aura rolling off her was immense, the unmistakable pressure of a seventh-tier Earthly Immortal. In her presence, the air seemed to thicken, daring anyone to keep breathing.

Damian lifted one imperious brow. “Who do you think you are to interfere with my fun?”

Across the marble floor stood Alice Pudge, the owner of the tower. A slow, frosty laugh rippled from her throat. “Owner of this information hub, that's who. Swordmaster City isn't Yhuville City. Believe it or not, boy, someone here can still break you.”

Damian flicked dust from his brocade sleeve. “Ugly hag, shut it. My father is the lord of Yhuville City. Touch a single hair and he'll march his troops over, level this shabby pile, and feed your carcass to the crows.”

“City lord?” She uttered the words like a private joke, eyes glinting. “Means nothing to me. If he comes, I'll beat him too.”

Her last word had barely faded when she moved.

“Flaxseed's knees wobbled. If Damian fell so easily, what hope had they?

Jared, however, drew a steady breath, fingers tightening around the Dragonslayer Sword. Retreat was gone; only battle remained.

He knew the day's blood-price was unavoidable.”

Slice's grin stretched, cruel and hungry. “A moment ago, that tongue of yours never stopped. Sword Sect disciple, Damian's ally—none of it matters here. Ready to die?”

She advanced one heavy step at a time. Her aura pressed outward until the very air congealed. Breath left lungs throughout the hall; spectators froze, unsure whether the two men would leave alive. Then she blurred—ghost-swift, mountain-strong—charging with a pressure so dense the timbers above groaned.