A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5595

Jared drew an item pouch from his belt and tossed it across the courtyard "Sixty thousand—for the two of us."

The disciple's brows lifted. Someone who could hand over sixty thousand without blinking had to come from wealth—or power.

"Generous," he chuckled. "Still, beginners start as janitors." Each sentence dripped condescension.

"If you'd rather join the Sword Guards," he added, "I could—arrange introductions." His tone made the arrangement sound infinitely expensive.

Noah waved both hands. "Joining the sect itself is honor enough."

He knew Jared had shouldered his thirty thousand. Sword Guard entry meant one hundred thousand just to register—an impossible dream that could crush the chance they already held.

"Suit yourselves," the disciple said, turning away. "After you're disciples, further tests may open that door."

He disappeared into the house, letting the door thud shut behind him.

The scalper shot Jared and Noah a reassuring wink. "Relax. He's tomorrow's examiner. With his nod, you'll breeze through."

Jared and Noah exchanged resigned nods and followed the scalper back into the maze of lanes.

Morning brought a sea of hopeful cultivators to the testing grounds, voices clattering against the sky, every soul dreaming of Sword Sect robes and meteoric rise.

Among the robed officials, Jared spotted yesterday's disciple—now a full examiner—preening behind a registration desk. A cold smile tugged at Jared's mouth. Let's see how far that arrogance stretches once the swords come out.

Newly admitted disciples were herded into a sprawling compound of slate roofs and practice yards, their futures echoing in every footstep.

A knot of senior students swaggered over. At their head strode Trevor Wolfe, eyes sharp with greed, arms folded across a broad chest.

"Well, look at the fresh meat." Trevor's tone dripped mock concern. "First lesson—pay your respects. Hand over your celestial gems, and maybe we'll let you breathe in peace."

Noah's brow pinched. He swallowed the anger in his throat and said, "We just joined. We don't have much. Could you give us a little grace, sir?"

Trevor's laugh was a rusty hinge. "Grace? Not in my courtyard. No gems, no training. Simple as that."

A hot flare rose behind Jared's ribs. Bullying for gems on day one—utterly shameless. This sect needs cleansing before it rots beyond repair. Mr. Cantrell, what have you been doing while I'm away?