The King Of Warriors (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5332

A single crimson crystal, as large as a carriage, throbbed from the palace roof, pumping demonic energy into the canyon, much like a heart forces poison through veins.

Hundreds of elite Malevolent Path Hall cultivators in sable robes stalked the courtyard, their murderous auras dwarfing those of the fodder Jared and Flaxseed had just slaughtered.

Yet two figures eclipsed them all—Dioz and Varek. They stood at the vanguard like twin vipers guarding the nest.

Dioz noticed something, and his head jerked toward the mouth of the gorge.

The instant he spotted the intruders, fear flashed across his eyes only to curdle into venom. “Jared? Flaxseed? How dare you crawl this deep into our base?”

Varek's face twisted into a grin as ragged as torn parchment. He leveled his bone-white sword, its edge dripping spectral mist. “Last time, you scuttled away. This time, I'll grind your bodies to chalk and feed your divine souls to my blade.”

Flaxseed answered with a laugh that cracked like dry timber snapping in flame. Dozens of charms whirled before him, runes glittering, spiritual energy rolling out in waves. “Save your breath. Hand over every last divine soul you stole from the Flaxseed clan, or I'll turn Bloody Bones Gorge into powder and let the wind scatter what's left of you!”

“The divine souls?” Dioz spat the words, lips curling. “Those petty divine souls have long since been refined into pills. You're too late. Bow now, and I'll leave enough of your corpse intact.”

The taunt dumped oil on a furnace already roaring. Flaxseed roared back, and the charms exploded with light so fierce it painted the cliffs gold. “Then die!”

He shot forward like a thunderbolt, hurling Immense Power Charms and Exorcism Charms. In mid-air, they twisted into colossal golden fists, each big enough to shatter a fortress, both aimed straight at Dioz's brow.

“Paltry tricks.” Dioz's gaze hardened. A cyclone of black energy erupted around him, condensing into a spiked bone shield taller than a gatehouse, its surface oozing cold demonic energy.

Clang!

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