Floating Island - Triple S Talent - Chapter 467

Chapter 467: Movements of other sects
Lein nodded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he felt the pressure of energy enveloping the area. The Invictus Sect was indeed worthy of being called one of the great powers. The man in the purple robe, referred to as the Sect Ancestor, did not display his status panel, but Lein knew—if it did appear, there would likely be limitations in reading his true strength.

Meanwhile, the sect leader, Luxandor Aureos, clearly emanated the aura of a Tier 4 King. The two grand elders beside him had more restrained energy, each at Tier 3. On the other side, a woman in a fiery red robe stood with an elegant posture. Her gaze was sharp, assessing each of them one by one with a hint of condescension. Even so, Lein could sense a similar pressure from her—she was also at Tier 4.

“Welcome, Lein… Thank you for agreeing to assist us.”

Luxandor Aureos’s voice was warm, accompanied by a smile that seemed to come from an old friend. His expression remained calm, showing no trace of tension, even though the situation they were about to face was far from relaxed.

“Lord Luxandor Aureos, there’s no need for pleasantries. We’re here to cooperate,” Lein replied bluntly. To him, this meeting was not a mere courtesy visit but one based on a specific agreement.

“Hahaha… Good, Lord Lein is truly a straightforward person.” Luxandor laughed heartily, appearing even more at ease with Lein’s demeanor. After that, he proceeded to formally introduce the three individuals around him, as Zenithus had previously explained.

“Greetings to Lord Lein.”

Everyone around them offered a casual yet respectful bow. There was no excessive display of reverence, but it was clear they acknowledged the status of a King-level individual. Even at Tier 1, anyone who had reached this level was a person tempered by unwavering determination, fortune, and relentless dedication.

Lein nodded to them all, his smile subtle yet open. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he and his group moved toward the front of the ship’s deck. From there, the vast expanse of space stretched out before them. However, what caught Lein’s attention was not the distant clusters of stars but the extraordinary phenomenon unfolding directly ahead of the ship.

The Ancestor of the Invictus Sect stood at the edge of the deck, raising one hand in a slow yet controlled motion. Lein watched intently as the space before them seemed to bend like stretched dough—wrinkling, curling, then slowly parting to form a passage large enough for the ship to pass through. There was no sound, no massive energy surge, just a faint pull that was barely perceptible, as if the very fabric of the dimension was yielding to the Ancestor’s power.

For a moment, Lein cast his gaze around. The darkness of space stretched infinitely, and the stars that should have remained fixed in place subtly shifted, seemingly following the curvature created by this spatial manipulation. He knew well that those points of light were not the same stars—they were merely reflections distorted by an invisible force.

***

Far from the Invictus Sect’s ship, another vessel shot through space at high speed. It was nearly the same size, but its movements were far more aggressive, as if pursuing something. On its deck, several individuals stood in a formation that clearly displayed their hierarchy. Their faces were tense, and a serious conversation hung in the air.

“We need to move quickly. If not, the Invictus Sect will become the biggest obstacle in the next selection,” said a tall man. His dark eyes glowed red, burning like embers in the darkness. His jaw tightened as he clenched his fists, as though imagining something that filled him with disgust.

“Unfortunately, they’ve already received the same information,” replied another man with a more neutral tone. The energy radiating from his body was slightly weaker, but still not to be underestimated.

The tall man fell silent for a moment, his gaze piercing into the void. In that brief moment of stillness, there was something terrifying in the way he stared blankly—almost as if he was seeing a battle that had yet to unfold. Then, in a low voice, he asked, “Has the Votum Sect agreed to the cooperation we proposed?”

The man beside him cast a sidelong glance before answering, his voice rigid. “They agreed, my Lord… but they rejected the distribution of the spoils.”

The tall man’s clenched fist relaxed slightly before tightening again. “What was their reasoning?”

“They said that the Votum Sect is no lesser than the Maledictus Sect. Therefore, the distribution must be equal.”

“Huh…”

A rough scoff escaped the tall man. Instantly, the air around him trembled slightly, like an almost imperceptible wave of energy creeping out from his body. The elder standing nearby tensed up, subtly shifting his stance in preparation.

“It seems they’ve forgotten… how the Maledictus Sect conducts its ‘cooperation,'” the man muttered, his voice growing lower yet carrying an unmistakable threat.

His eyes burned even brighter, the crimson hue in his pupils pulsing like roaring flames. His face was lined with tension, his mind clearly weighing something—not negotiation, but something far more drastic.

Around him, the other elders remained silent. They knew all too well that when this man began showing signs of anger, it was never wise to add unnecessary comments. The space around the ship felt slightly heavier, as if responding to the tension emanating from his body.

However, the tall man’s menacing aura did not stop there. Suddenly, an old man standing at the ship’s front—an individual responsible for opening the spatial rifts—spoke words that instantly thickened the already tense atmosphere.

“Veyrmor, this will determine whether you remain the sect leader or become irrelevant,” the old man said flatly. There was no emotion on his face, but the weight in his tone was absolute, leaving no room for debate.

The tall man, called Veyrmor, held back his fury. His jaw clenched tightly, and his glowing red eyes sharpened, staring straight at the old man. For a brief moment, the deck’s atmosphere felt frozen in time.