The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5243

At the final heartbeat before impact, a shadow slid between Jared and the beast—so quick it seemed birthed from smoke. A middle-aged man in rough hemp clothes, as unremarkable as any village smith, raised a single fist. There was no blinding aura, no ripple of power—only that bare knuckle kissing fur and bone. Yet the three-eyed lion screamed, as though a mountain had been dropped upon its skull.

The colossus skidded backward in terror, paws gouging troughs in the street, all murderous courage draining from its three eyes like water from shattered glass.

The brocaded youth lurched, nearly pitched from the saddle. He steadied himself, face blazing, and roared, “Who the hell are you, meddling in my affairs? Do you even know my name?”

The stranger spared him a single, disinterested glance. “Swordmaster City keeps its own laws,” he said quietly. “Here, lineage buys you nothing. Run wild elsewhere if you must—no one here will indulge you.”

With that, he turned and melted into the crowd, vanishing so completely it felt as though the city had imagined him.

The brocaded youth’s complexion flickered between scarlet and chalk. Around him, curious citizens whispered. He scoffed, forcing a smirk, and muttered to his attendants, “Ignorant provincials—what do they know?”

He patted the beast’s bloody muzzle, straightened his brocaded cloak, and swaggered through the gate as though nothing had happened.

Reaching Jared, Damian reined in, letting the creature snort hot breath over the man who had not flinched. Surprise flickered when he sensed Jared’s modest Wandering Immortal Realm aura.

He slipped to the ground, tapped a command sigil, and the three-eyed lion winked from sight like smoke in wind.

The brocaded youth folded his arms, curiosity momentarily eclipsing arrogance. “A mere Wandering Immortal—how did you manage to enter Swordmaster City?”

Jared met his gaze without blinking. “Did some decree bar my level from entering?”

The question disarmed Damian; he barked a laugh. “Bold spirit! Your cultivation may be low, but your nerve is iron. Tell me, why didn’t you dodge my beast a moment ago?”

“Fear,” Jared said with perfect seriousness. “My legs went soft—I simply couldn’t move.”

The brocaded youth—Damian Zill—hesitated for the barest moment, then burst into rolling laughter that echoed down the dusty road. “You’re a curious one, friend! First time in Swordmaster City, I’ll wager. The name’s Damian, and from this day on, you’re riding with me.”

Flaxseed stood by, offering only a long, baffled silence.

“Save the bragging,” Jared said, voice flat as polished stone.

Damian cocked his head. “You doubt me?”

He’s either a fool or the richest second-generation scion I’ll ever meet.

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