God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World! Chapter 506: Tracking White Phantom

In the banquet hall again, Scarlet lounged with one leg draped across the other, her glass delicately pinched between two fingers. Overhead lights cast a warm glow, soft melodies drifted through the air, and nobles nearby kept up their smiles, conversations, and facades of enjoyment.

Scarlet lost interest in these elite events ages ago after witnessing plenty. Always the courteous chuckles. Always the hollow flattery. Always folks acting like they didn't despise one another while eyeing opportunities to crush someone.

Her gaze drifted idly over the room, lingering on familiar faces and those she dismissed. General Aston maintained his stern expression at his seat, a handful of nobles chattered boisterously, and Jack Arefield stayed poised as usual with women at his table sneaking peeks his direction.

She raised her glass a bit, yet halted before sipping, her eyes sharpening.

In the shortest instant, a mighty aura pulsed from deep inside the castle.

Subtle as it was, the aura carried enough force for anyone of her caliber to detect without fail.

Slowly, she set the glass down, her features twisting into a subtle scowl without a word.

Simultaneously, various others in the hall responded too. Several elder nobles tilted their heads. Wall guards snapped to attention. Even General Aston, mid-conversation with two officers by the head table, broke off and glanced toward the aura's origin.

Just as swiftly as it emerged, the pressure faded away. So rapid was its passing that those who sensed it started questioning their own perception. With no follow-up, they chalked it up to some castle expert leaking aura by mistake or simple imagination.

Scarlet's grip on her glass stem firmed up a touch. Her expression stayed serene, yet her blank eyes sparked with intrigue.

While the rest got deceived, she saw through it. That aura felt far too perfectly timed.

"Why emerge mere minutes after their departure?" she pondered.

Movement pulled the Vice Guild Leader from her reverie.

By a nearby table, a friend of Darius Aston came back frowning. The young aristocrat hurried to his group and whispered.

"I didn’t find him."

Another noble blinked. "What do you mean you didn’t find him?"

"I mean exactly that," the first man said. "He wasn’t in the side halls, and he wasn’t outside the banquet entrance either."

Instantly, the group traded looks.

"He could have gone somewhere else. Maybe he left the castle."

"That’s strange. Did you find the other masked man as well?"

The noble who had searched shook his head. "No, I couldn’t find him either."

"Do you think he went after that man?"

That remark shifted the table's vibe to tense.

General Aston caught snippets of it. His look barely shifted, though a crease formed deeper between his brows.

Having overheard all, Scarlet placed her glass aside. She stood smoothly without drawing eyes, smoothed her sleeve cuff, and offered a brief nod to her former tablemates.

"Excuse me," she said calmly.

Immediately, she exited the banquet hall, her heels clicking softly on the gleaming floor amid the ongoing tunes. Some close nobles spotted her departure and observed, yet none questioned her destination.

Beyond the castle, down the slope where primary illumination barely penetrated, two shadows lingered in darkness.

Black outfits cloaked them, merging with night, black bandanas on their brows displaying the Black Star Clan's serpent emblem. One held a vigilant stance, arms crossed, gaze flicking occasionally to the castle.

The companion appeared odder.

A blindfold sealed his eyes entirely, but he seemed more composed than his ally. A peculiar beast hunkered nearby, sleek-framed with an extended muzzle. Its nostrils quivered, inhaling the chilly night breeze.

The initial figure shattered the quiet at last.

"Are you sure this was White Phantom’s last seen location?"

The blindfolded one held off replying. He paused motionless, a hand gently on the beast's neck.

"Yes."

The first man eyed him, then scanned the castle anew.

In the Black Star Clan, this fellow ranked among elites. His rank held weight, his techniques odder than typical assassins'. Scant knew his power's depths, but all trusted one fact: his word on a fresh trail meant confirmation.

Reaching into his jacket, the blindfolded man drew a scrap of cloth.

Dark-hued and ragged-edged, it bore faint stains. He extended it to the beast's snout. The odd animal inhaled once, twice, then froze rigid.

The first man inched closer.

"Well?"

Silent another beat, the blindfolded man seemed attuned to unseen sounds. The beast raised its head moments later, facing him over the castle.

"What is it?" the first man scowled, baffled by the delay, his partner's leisure heightening his nerves.

The blindfolded man refolded the cloth, stowed it, then spoke evenly,

"He’s still here. The moment he steps out... we strike."

...

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