The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5476

"Who in blazes are you?" the club-wielding Demonic Cultivator barked. "This is Obsidian Stone Sect's territory. Strays are not welcome."

Jared ignored him. He looked instead at the fallen beast race cultivator and the woman crouched beside him, both trembling beneath bruises.

"Are either of you hurt?" His voice softened, a steady hand extended through the dust.

The woman lifted her head. For a heartbeat, astonishment outshone her fear—no one defied the sect out here.

"W-We're okay. Thank you, sir." Her words wavered, yet urgency flared behind them. "But please, leave now! These people from Obsidian Stone Sect are merciless. They'll tear you apart!"

"Tear me apart?" Jared's laugh was quiet, razor-thin. "They haven't earned that privilege."

He turned, white sleeve whispering across the grit, eyes locking on the ring of Demonic Cultivators. Heatless fury rolled off him like a silent storm.

"You cowards tormenting weaker cultivators—today, you pay in full."

The Demonic Cultivator hefted a spiked iron club over one shoulder, his eyes burning red beneath a mane of tangled hair. "You little whelp—are you courting death? Dare you insult Obsidian Stone Sect? I'll teach you what true fear feels like!"

Roaring the last word, he lunged across the quarry floor, the club slicing the dusty air with a mournful whistle that promised broken bones.

At once, the other Demonic Cultivators swarmed forward, eager to impress the nearby enforcer. Their boots pounded the rock in unison, sealing every avenue of escape around Jared.

Jared's mouth curved into a lazy, razor-thin smile that told the universe how little any of this mattered.

Most of these Demonic Cultivators were in the Immortal Realm, a level considered an expert in the realm powered by spiritual energy.

Yet compared with Jared, who stood firmly in Earthly Immortal Realm, they were less than insects crawling across a giant's palm.

Jared did not bother to lift an arm. He did not summon a protective aura. He simply stood motionless, letting the iron club slam into his chest.

The impact rang out like a cracked bell—and the weapon exploded into glittering powder that drifted down his tunic like gray snow.

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