A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5294

Jared did not join the pursuit. Instead, he stood before Sarpa's twitching torso, two fingers glowing with concentrated marked aura. He drove that aura into the corpse's elixir field as delicately as a surgeon slipping a scalpel beneath skin.

A moment later, he withdrew, a faint filament of gold spiraling around his fingertip. “Found it,” he said, voice low but unerringly certain.

That glimmer was the unique spiritual aura of the Flaxseed clan—tangible proof that Sarpa had once plundered their magical items.

“Mr. Flaxseed,” Jared called without turning. “Your clan members' treasures are almost certainly locked away inside Venom Palace.”

Flaxseed's fingers, still clutching a charm, trembled as he closed them into a fist. “My ancestors' items,” he whispered hoarsely. “I must retrieve them.”

Together, the trio strode across a carpet of cooling bodies toward the bone-white silhouette of Venom Palace.

Every wisp of poisonous miasma recoiled from Jared's marked aura, parting as though some invisible torch were clearing a path. Even the venomous parasites hiding in the darkness burrowed deep into the soil, unwilling to risk his shadow.

The palace gate had been fashioned from the skull of a giant beast. Desiccated human skins, long drained of color, dangled from its fangs and fluttered in the wind like obscene banners.

Eight guards in scaled mail flanked the entrance. Their skin was an eerie blue-violet, and each clutched a spear embedded with glimmering toxin crystals that pulsed like diseased hearts.

The lead guard jabbed his weapon toward Jared. “Turn back!” he barked, voice rasping as broken glass. “Trespassers in Venom Palace die where they stand!”

Jared, having no patience for idle talk, gave his Dragonslayer Sword a lazy flick.

A gold-and-black light—ten feet long and sharp as judgment—shone across the threshold. It cleaved the eight guards and their spears in two before slamming into the monstrous skull with a thunderous boom.

Crack!

The sturdy skull shattered like brittle porcelain, shards skittering across a floor already stained by horrors untold, revealing the gloom within.

Inside the main hall, the toxic mist was ten times thicker, swirling in viscous coils that stung the eyes and throat. At the chamber's heart sat an old man in emerald robes, perched atop a stone dais. Before him, a bronze cauldron bubbled with pitch-green liquid, belching fumes so foul they clawed at sanity itself.

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