At that very mont, Rose’s voice pulsed through his mind in a quiet thread of vital essence, tinged with sothing like grudging admiration—and a sharp edge of jealousy. "If my guess is correct, she is June Andrews, one of the three Heaven Grade geniuses Mountain Gods Valley has."
Max’s eyes narrowed fractionally as the na settled in his thoughts like a stone dropped into deep water. ’June Andrews...’ He knew the significance of that title. Heaven Grade geniuses were not rely the strongest class of genius in the Middle Domain—they were the strongest class in the entire world of Acaris.
Legends said that such people possessed destinies marked by the cosmos itself, with talent and potential so supre they carried a guaranteed path to beco Divine Rank experts one day. They were as rare as they were terrifying, numbered perhaps in only fifties across the entire vast world.
And here stood one, quietly graceful, her delicate green robes shifting as though they were woven from mist, her calm eyes gazing over the assembled geniuses with neither challenge nor contempt—rely quiet indifference. In her presence, even the other 3-star geniuses seed diminished, their hard-earned auras flickering like candle flas in a sudden storm.
For the first ti in a long while, Max felt a ripple of true caution thread through his chest. He knew without a shred of doubt: this woman, June Andrews, was the most dangerous person in the room by a vast margin—and possibly the greatest obstacle or ally he would encounter in his quest for the secrets of Lord Ko’s tomb.
Frank’s voice carried a bright, almost theatrical note of pride as he gestured grandly to the beautiful woman who’d just sat down. "Everyone, this is my Junior Sister June Andrews, one of the three Heaven Grade geniuses from Mountain Gods Valley. I don’t know how many lifetis you have cultivated for the blessing to have the opportunity to et her."
His tone brimd with obvious reverence, as if simply speaking her na conferred so reflected glory upon himself. Even as he spoke, there was a hint of resignation in his eyes, the quiet understanding that while he might technically be her senior brother, in the presence of a Heaven Grade genius like June Andrews, he was destined always to stand in the shade of her brilliance.
Across the table, Derek stood up sharply, the lines of his face smoothing into a polite, practiced smile, his eyes glimring with a mixture of respect and cautious curiosity. "Derek ets Miss June," he said formally, inclining his head slightly in a gesture of courtesy that was just this side of deferential.
But June didn’t so much as flick her eyes in his direction. Instead, she simply glided over to an empty seat as if no one else existed, the soft green fabric of her robe settling around her like mist coiling over quiet waters. Her pale, slender fingers rested lightly on the table, her eyes half-lidded and utterly indifferent to the frozen smile lingering on Derek’s face.
A flush of color rose in Derek’s cheeks, blooming red and stark against the fair skin of his face, then fading swiftly to a pale, embarrassed blue.
For a mont, he seed poised to say sothing more—to reclaim a shred of his dignity—but the words twisted unsaid in his throat as he dropped back into his chair, shoulders stiff with silent fury.
Gayle chuckled at the sudden, awkward silence and clapped his hands together as if to brush off the tension. "Should we set off?!" he proposed, a note of eager anticipation in his voice, his eyes darting around the table.
"Wait." The voice that cut across Gayle’s suggestion was cold, steady as iron.
Everyone turned their gaze toward Scott, whose expression remained as unreadable and severe as a granite cliff. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an edge of authority in his bearing that demanded attention.
"What’s wrong?" Gayle asked, his brows furrowing, while several others leaned forward, curiosity piqued.
Scott’s eyes shifted slowly around the table before fixing calmly on Gayle. "The geniuses of the Thunder Monarch Hall aren’t here yet. Let’s wait a little longer."
And as though summoned by Scott’s very ntion, the sound of footsteps began echoing from below. Each crisp tap on the wooden stairs felt like the ticking of an unseen clock, winding tighter and tighter.
Monts later, the first person to erge into the third-floor chamber was a young man clad in sleek black robes etched with twisting lightning patterns that shimred faintly in the lantern light. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room with a predator’s cool gaze, and the air around him seed to crackle faintly with a low electric buzz.
The instant Max’s eyes fell upon those lightning motifs, his expression darkened slightly, his pupils narrowing like a blade being honed. The stylized arcs of lightning were unmistakable—the symbol of the Thunder Monarch Hall.
Behind the first man ca another figure, also in black robes marked by lightning sigils. But as soon as Max’s gaze settled on the newcor’s face, a flash of recognition—and sharp, simring annoyance—sparked in his eyes.
’Enemies really do et on narrow roads...’ Max thought grimly.
Because the second man striding into the room with cool arrogance was none other than Omar of the Thunder Monarch Hall—the sa Omar whom Max had encountered, battled, and thoroughly humiliated in the Berserk Lightning Region by looting his precious treasure.
’This is bad.’ Max frowned. At this mont, he truly regretted not coming here with a mask on his face.
Scott’s lips curved into a subtle, satisfied smile the instant he saw the mbers of the Thunder Monarch Hall striding up the stairs and onto the third floor. The harsh edge in his eyes softened, replaced by a glimr of camaraderie.
It wasn’t just casual friendliness that prompted his earlier insistence to wait; Mountain Gods Valley and Thunder Monarch Hall had long shared strong ties, both politically and personally. Their young elites, like Scott and Omar, were accustod to working together, forming alliances that could tip the balance in dangerous ventures like this one.
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