A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5427

Jared stepped across the threshold with Aurelius cradled against his chest, the monarch's breath barely a whisper. At the center of the hall sat Artemis Lughlin, the sect leader of the Herb Sect and former royal physician. Draped in violet silk, she looked little more than thirty. Refinement clung to her like fragrance to a blossom; the assured poise of a healer lingered in the lift of her brows and the steadiness of her gaze.

Artemis rose, skirts sighing across the polished floor. Her eyes widened as she recognized the battered face against Jared's shoulder. "King Aurelius—what in the heavens has befallen you? And you—who are you, that carries a king in your arms?"

"My name is Jared Chance," he replied, words tumbling out on shallow breaths. "His Majesty shielded our retreat and was struck down by Soul Devourer. Level six is overrun—demonic souls everywhere. Only you possess the skill to save him. I beg your help!"

Artemis's expression hardened. She swept a hand toward her waiting disciples. "Bring His Majesty to the meditation room. Fetch a vial of Clarity Pills and an armful of Life Extension Pills. We begin at once—every heartbeat matters."

The disciples answered in unison, then lifted the unconscious king with the care one grants sacred relics, hurrying down a lantern-lit corridor that smelled of crushed mint and drying roots.

Artemis turned back to Jared. "Come with me. I need every detail of his injury if I'm to craft the proper cure."

In a book-lined study, Jared recounted the desperate duel: how Aurelius had clashed against Soul Devourer, how the priceless Ritual Manual was cast aside to slow pursuit, how demonic cultivators hounded them across mountains and ravines. He spoke until his throat ached, and the oil lamp beside them burned low.

When his story ended, Artemis pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "So level six lies in ruin, Soul Devourer holds the Ritual Manual, and ten thousand demonic souls roam free. Reclaiming the realm will not be easy."

"Maybe not," Jared answered, voice low yet unshaken, "but if we can bring the king back to strength, hope still breathes."

Artemis gave a decisive nod. "I will do everything within my art. Still, his injuries are dire. Even under my care, he will sleep for at least half a month. While he mends, do not idle. Your reserves are nearly spent. Rest and train here inside the Herb Sect; you will need every ounce of power for the battles ahead."

Relief unfurled through Jared like early dawn. "Thank you, Artemis. I am grateful."

Days blended into a silent routine. Jared split his time between the king's bedside and the sect's training chambers, inhaling air thick with spiritual fragrance and listening to the rustle of rare herbs steeping in bronze cauldrons.

Artemis could scarcely contain her joy. She summoned every disciple of Herb Sect and, her voice shimmering with hope, explained the promise of fusing Jared's dragon bloodline with their own. A flush of embarrassment swept through the young women—this was, after all, an intimate ritual—but the thought of strengthening the sect against the encroaching demon clans steadied their nerves. One after another, they nodded their consent. Dawn broke, pale and expectant. When the first light spilled across the mountain compound, the ceremony began.

The first disciple stepped into the union room. She wore a snow-white gown that fluttered behind her like a startled egret, and though her posture tried for serenity, a tremor at the corner of her mouth betrayed her unease.

"Relax," Jared murmured, pitching his tone somewhere between reassurance and playful challenge. "In a moment, you'll feel like you're touching the very edge of paradise."

"Ms. Lughlin said I should trust you completely, Mr. Chance. So I will," she whispered, breath hitching on the last word.

With that fragile promise hanging in the charged air, she reclined upon the emerald-lined platform, lashes falling closed as if surrendering to a dream.