A Man Like None Other (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5842

"We move now—no more delays."

He turned toward Linden, voice firm yet warm. "Your sect still needs its patriarch's hand. Remain here and restore order. The three of us will take our leave at once."

Linden escorted them to the foot of the mountain gate. Snow-bearded and grave, he said, "Sir, the Northern Abyss Celestial Clan is fathomless. On their own frozen tundra, they are super strong. If victory proves impossible, guard your life; time is long. The Sword Sect's doors will always stand open for you."

Jared nodded once, eyes steady. "Rest easy, Mr. Cloudridge. I know my limits."

A new streak of light—brighter, swifter than their arrival—shot skyward. Jared, Clara, and the Vermilion Demon Lord became a single comet, arrowing toward the far-northern edge of level ten.

With every mile north, the air thinned, and the temperature plunged with frightening speed.

Verdant hills gave way to austere tundra, then rose again as chains of blizzard-scoured peaks and knife-edged glaciers.

Needle-fine ice crystals rode the screaming wind, sleeting against their spiritual light shield with a ceaseless, rasping hiss.

An ordinary cultivator, even skimming the outskirts of this land, would already be forced to burn reserves of power just to keep blood from freezing.

Clara knew the route well. She pointed out subtle shifts in cloud banks, steering them clear of white-out maelstroms and invisible fractures in space.

Her instructions came crisp and spare, as efficient as the woman herself.

The Vermilion Demon Lord traveled in silence. Most of the time, his eyes stayed shut as he honed his demonic essence, yet now and then he gazed toward that endless whiteness with a flash of urgency—and of resolve.

Jared, cruising beside them, let the strange northern laws of nature wash over him like sleet.

Here, ice and water rules thrummed, bold and abundant, while every other element muted itself to a distant echo. Within Jared's core, chaotic celestial energy reshaped itself into threads of diamond frost, teaching his body to breathe the cold.

From time to time, he unfurled his spiritual sense, spearing it through storm clouds in search of divine signatures or any ripple that did not belong to the snow.

The further north they flew, the madder the weather grew. Leaden clouds sagged over the ice plain, and shards of wind hammered their light shields with gunshot bursts.

After two full days aloft, Clara pointed toward a ring of colossal ice that guarded a natural cavern mouth. "Ahead lies an ice den that can block the storm. Let's rest till morning," she suggested, clear voice almost lost to the gale.

Jared nodded. With a sweep of his sleeve, chaotic celestial energy opened a corridor through the swirling snow and ferried them to the cave entrance.

Inside, the cavern was unexpectedly dry. A sheen of frost glassed the rock floor, and ice pillars of every shape glimmered in the shadow like muted chandeliers.

The Demon Lord chose a corner, sat cross-legged, and wrapped himself in a veil of demonic essence, sealing the world out.

Clara laid several warming jades upon the ice, then produced spirit fruit and a flask of water, presenting both to Jared. "You have travelled hard. Refill your strength," she said.

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