A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5359

Yuliana drew a deliberate breath, stepped forward, and slid herself between Jared and the tutor. Her voice remained calm, yet ripples of unease twitched beneath her eyes.

“Mr. Chance, our student was indeed at fault first, yet severing an arm in public is... extreme. Lord Gale holds considerable influence in Celestia. If this gets magnified, you will gain nothing. Allow the academy physicians to treat the student now. I shall report the matter to the king and see it handled properly—will that suffice?” she asked.

Gone was any notion of seeing Jared as a pawn.

An Earthly Immortal Realm Level One cultivator who crushed an Earthly Immortal Realm Level Seven opponent while debating philosophy was clearly no one's expendable piece. Even if he served a faction, he himself was surely a centerpiece.

Such a man must not be provoked—not until she discovered what, exactly, he wanted there.

Jared spared Yuliana a brief glance, then fixed on Westley, who was clutching his mangled arm. “You called me worthless. Looking at you now, I see the true waste of talent. You were never worth my full strength.”

“Y-You!” Westley trembled from skull to heel, yet he couldn't step forward. Teeth grinding, he hissed, “My father will never forgive this. You'll regret it—just wait!”

“I'll wait,” Jared replied, voice flat as winter stone. “But the next time you flaunt empty bravado, I won't stop at one arm.”

With nothing more to say, he turned and walked toward the academy gates, dismissing the crowd as if they were autumn leaves on an already-swept path.

His back remained straight, almost regal. Though everyone knew he stood at Earthly Immortal Realm Level One in terms of cultivation, every celestial cultivator present felt, with sudden certainty, that the heavens themselves would part rather than block his stride.

Yuliana's gaze followed Jared's retreating silhouette until the crowd swallowed him. A tangle of emotions—frustration, admiration, grudging awe—churned in her chest like storm clouds circling a single, stubborn ray of sun.

The answer lodged in her throat. No syllable felt adequate—or believable—after the killing aura she had sensed moments earlier.

She could still feel that aura clinging to the memory of his sword: a chill forged in countless life-and-death battles, nothing like the tame energy cultivated by Celestia's greenhouse-raised cultivators. His lethality was a storm front compared with their spring breeze.

They walked side by side through the streets of Celestia City. Every passing cultivator felt that hint of storm about Jared and instinctively gave way, bowing their heads as though fearful of meeting the tempest's eye.

“Tell me, Ms. Fiala, does the academy of Celestia always produce such 'well-rounded' students—arrogant when winning, and when beaten, hiding behind family crests and bloodlines? Is that the 'nobility' you boast of?” Jared said at last, voice calm yet edged.

“An individual lapse does not stain the entire Celestia,” Yuliana answered, color rising in her cheeks. “For millennia, Celestia has honored courtesy, wisdom, loyalty, and faith. Some youngsters simply grow proud too soon.”