“Stop shouting. They’re asleep,” Jared Chance said mildly.

He stepped forward, each stride slow, deliberate—inevitable.

King Redstinger’s pupils shrank to needlepoints.

His senses swept the perimeter. Every sentry’s aura had sunk into a bottomless sleep. Not dead—just unreachable.

A chill crept beneath his carapace.

When had this stranger acted?

And how had he—a High Immortal Realm Level Seven—felt nothing?