A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5785

Only now did Sheldon see the larger design. From the moment the Mystic Sky Sword Sect had marched out, every twist of this bloody conflict had been orchestrated by this young man.

He was a sect master. A Heavenly Immortal powerhouse. Yet, he was tricked by a junior way weaker than him.

Bitterness surged up his throat. He coughed a dark gout of demon blood across the broken stone, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind.

"You have a death wish, boy! I will tear you apart and refine your soul for a thousand years!" he roared, each word drenched in murderous promise.

His rage boiled over, scorching what little reason he had left. He ignored the hollow ache where his demonic essence should have been and squeezed the last drops of power from a body already split with wounds.

Crackling shadows swarmed around him. From that black tide rose a claw—far thinner than the one he could conjure at his peak, yet still heavy with the wails of a thousand tormented souls. It tore through the air toward Jared with a shriek that curdled blood.

That single strike carried every ounce of hatred Sheldon had nurtured across countless battles. He meant to crush Jared in the time it takes a man to blink.

Not far away, Linden watched, eyes unreadable. He neither shielded Jared nor aided the demon. The swordmaster, too, was running on fumes and welcomed any pause that let his strength knit back together.

Even so, curiosity gnawed at him. Jared was only a Level Seven Human Immortal on paper, yet there was something bottomless about the young man—something Linden could not divine.

What is this boy hiding? The old swordsman wondered, weighing every heartbeat, every ripple of force. He decided to let the clash reveal whatever secrets fate wished to spill.

Jared met the advancing claw with eyes gone winter-cold. The earlier hint of mockery vanished, replaced by a sovereign calm—one that seemed too large for a body so young. For an instant, he looked as though the entire sky had bowed before him.

"Pathetic," Jared said, voice flat and final. "You're at your last legs, and you still dare challenge me?"

He never reached for the sword on his back. Instead, he lifted his right hand—casually, almost lazily—and folded his fingers into a fist.

A primeval presence rumbled awake inside him, as though a slumbering dragon shoved mountains aside while it rose. The ground quivered beneath his boots.

Boom!

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