The King Of Warriors novel (Jared Chance) novel Chapter 5801

The skirmish in the gorge altered Clara's attitude overnight. Her doubts vanished, replaced by respect. She now sought Jared's opinion first, allowing herself to act only after a small approving nod from him.

Interrogation proved swift. Under the twin pressures of Jared's silent presence and the Mystic Sky Sword Sect's interrogation methods honed for war, the captured Demon Sect disciples and Melded Beastkin warriors spilled their secrets like cracked jars.

"Spare us, sir!" one demon disciple stammered, sweat streaking the grime on his face. "We were ordered to sweep this sector for stragglers of the Myriad Beast Sect—especially Master Paxton and his aides... Oh, and any scouts from the Mystic Sky Sword Sect. If we spotted them, we were to fire a signal flare. Elite squads would move in at once!"

Clara's tone was ice. "How many patrols in this sector? Where are the elites stationed? Speak."

"I... I only know our unit," the man whimpered. "Elder Rhys commanded with Captain Fangtooth at his side."

"Master Thornscale sits at the Myriad Beast Sect headquarters with certain Infinite Soul Demon Sect leaders. Mixed squads of our clans and demon disciples comb the perimeter."

"Rumor says they've ordered special sweeps of old hunting grounds and abandoned mines to the northwest and southwest—claim those mines hide fugitives," another Melded Beastkin fighter muttered, clutching a splinted arm. "It's a good hiding place, they said."

Jared listened without a word, filing every detail. Northwest... Southwest... Those might be the escape lines Paxton would favor.

After the prisoners were secured and the squad had rested, Jared studied the map spread across a fallen shield. "We move southwest. Keep low, mask every trace. If Master Paxton truly fled that way, we'll find his trail—and we avoid every patrol route we now know."

"Understood, Mr. Chance," Clara answered at once. She ordered the disciples to weave concealment spells, suppress their auras, and follow the path Jared's fingertip had traced across the parchment night.

For the next two days, Jared and his small party moved through the Myriad Beast Mountains like phantoms, skimming over ridges, slipping beneath thorny arches, never once rustling a single fallen leaf.

Three sizable patrols prowled the range, yet Jared steered everyone clear of them. They passed scorched clearings, shattered trees, and the unmistakable gouges of recent combat, but Paxton's trail remained cold.

Each hour deepened Jared's frown.

The range sprawled far beyond sight, and Paxton—wounded, wary—clearly masked every footprint. Searching like this felt no different from searching for a needle in a haystack.

Inside Jared's chest, an unspoken clock began to tick. He could sense invisible nets hunting for Paxton and the others tightening from all sides. No one knew these peaks better than the beast folk, and the Demon Sect had laced its own sorcery through the hunt. Paxton's window for survival was shrinking by the minute.

Clara edged closer, reading the tension in Jared's eyes. "Mr. Chance, we can't keep searching like this. Shouldn't we—"

Jared lifted one hand for quiet, shoulders rigid, gaze snapping toward a grove of ancient timber to the left.

A heartbeat later, the faintest sigh of movement stirred the ferns—so light Clara might have blamed the wind had Jared's spiritual sense not confirmed life.

Two figures eased out of the shadows, their pelts and skins mottled to match bark and moss so perfectly that the forest itself seemed to peel away and stand upright.

Beast folk—two of them.

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