"You… it's your turn," the red-robed old man said, his voice as calm and indifferent as ever. His gaze swept over the remaining crowd of geniuses from the mortal worlds before settling on Max.
But the moment his eyes locked onto Max, something unexpected happened—a faint ripple passed through his body. His blood stirred. No, it trembled. Just for an instant, like a suppressed roar echoing in the deepest part of his being. It was subtle, fleeting, but undeniable.
The old man stiffened, his pupils narrowing slightly. Then, just as quickly, the sensation vanished, his blood calming as if nothing had happened.
'Did I just imagine that?' he wondered, a rare moment of doubt flashing across his mind. He stood still for a second longer than usual, observing Max with slightly narrowed eyes and feeling nothing this time. 'No… it must've been a fluke. Nothing more.'
