Chapter 5975

Jared’s gaze hardened to flint.

He lifted two fingers, aligned them, and traced a single, indifferent line through the air.

The hiss of severed flesh cut the wind—a wet whistle that still rang in his ears as the stroke completed its arc. Malcolm’s head spun upward, haloed by its own blood, while the torso dropped like a stone through the misted air.

Even in death, that face clung to its deranged grin, as if refusing to accept the verdict Jared had pronounced.

A High Immortal of the Third Level.
Lord of the Malevolent Path Hall.

Gone—severed by a single stroke that still trembled faintly in Jared’s wrist.

The mountain gate sank into a silence so thick Jared almost mistook it for deafness. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. It was as though the world itself waited to see whether its own heart still beat.