God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World!

Chapter 491: The One-Eyed Sponsor

For the next couple of days the rumours about White phantom didn’t die down. Every single player was keeping an eye out for him and was also wondering what was his reason for showing up again after all this time.

By the second day, the Realm Hub forum was already full of posts, guesses, and clipped screenshots taken from far away. Some players claimed they saw him near the city entrance. Others swore he was in the hotel district. A few even started arguing about whether he came for the upcoming tournament, which was no longer a secret, a hidden quest, or a private deal with one of the major guilds. No one knew the truth, but that did not stop them from talking.

The funny part was that no one dared to approach him directly.

The Monkey Paradise incident was still fresh in many minds. White Phantom was famous, yes, but he was also the kind of figure people respected from a distance. Admiration was one thing. Walking up to him without being invited was another. So the city buzzed with rumors while keeping its distance.

Deep inside Stellar City, hidden beneath layers of ordinary structures and false walls, the Black Star Clan had one of its secret bases.

The place was built below an old property that looked abandoned from the outside. There was a cracked wall, a broken window covered with dust. Anyone who saw it would think it had been left to rot years ago. But below that dead shell, the real base stretched downward through several reinforced levels.

The deeper one went, the warmer the air became. Pipes ran through the walls. Old metal doors sealed off narrow passages. Lamps fixed into the stone gave off a low red light that made the place feel heavy.

At the lowest accessible floor was a large room built like a dojo.

The floor was dark wood, polished and clean. The walls were plain, but the heat inside the room was harsh enough that an ordinary person would start sweating almost immediately. Yet there, at the center, sat a man with his legs folded in a meditative state.

Torin Black Star.

His back was straight. His hands rested on his knees. His eyes were closed, and even in stillness there was pressure around him that made the room feel suffocating. He did not move. He barely even seemed to breathe.

Outside the room, footsteps approached.

A steward stopped at the entrance and gave two measured knocks.

"Enter," came the calm response from inside.

The steward slid the door open and stepped in with a respectful posture. His movements followed a strict order, almost like an old Japanese household servant. He bowed first before speaking.

"Lord Torin."

Torin remained seated and spoke without opening his eyes. "Speak."

The steward lowered his head slightly.

"The assassination mission has failed."

Torin did not react, almost as if he had expected this, which was indeed true because the attack was merely testing the waters.

The steward continued carefully. "The target survived. However, Plan B was successful. The exposed operative was eliminated before they could fully speak."

Still, he did not move from his meditative posture.

The steward waited, then added, "Plan B carried out the final shot cleanly and withdrew without being captured."

Torin’s voice finally came again, calm and flat. "So the target lives."

"Yes, Lord Torin."

Another pause followed. The steward should have stopped there. The report had already been delivered. But after a brief hesitation, he bowed his head a little lower and forced himself to continue.

"There is one concern."

"Hmm. What concern?"

The steward swallowed before speaking.

"There is a possibility that the target now knows the attack came from us."

That changed the room instantly.

Until now, Torin had remained like a stone statue in the middle of the heated dojo. But the moment those words left the steward’s mouth, an even heavier pressure descended in the room. It was enough to make the steward’s breathing change drastically.

The steward kept his head lowered and did not dare move. At the center of the room, Torin’s eyes finally snapped open, revealing a pair of profound dark eyes that were filled with ancient wisdom.

"What did you say?"

The steward swallowed as he replied, "I have a feeling that the target knows the attack was from us."

The steward kept his head lowered as he continued speaking. "The operative we lost... he was carrying a Black Star headband."

In the Black Star Clan, every member had a headband with the black serpent symbol. It was not just a symbol. It was proof of membership. When a member died, their headband was usually retrieved and brought back to the clan. It was a long standing tradition. The headbands of the dead were kept and recorded. None were supposed to be left outside.

For undercover missions, members usually kept the headband in the base before they moved out. That operative was on an undercover assignment. However, when the steward searched for it, he did not find the headband, which meant the operative had not left it behind. He had his headband with him.

"If the headband was still on him when he died," the steward said slowly, "then there is a high chance it is now in either the Adventurer Guild or even White Phantom’s possession."

That was a big problem.

The Black Star Clan was not a legal organization. They operated in the shadows and were considered an outlaw group in several regions. If that headband fell into the wrong hands, it could be used as proof. It could link many things back to them, including operations inside Stellar City.

Torin remained seated in the same position, but the air in the room felt heavier than before. His expression had already turned cold.

And in his mind, he began to wonder if the payment they received for this job was actually worth the trouble it was starting to bring.

"Looks like I’ll be having another talk with that one-eyed man," Torin muttered. "If its going to cause us this much trouble, I might as well ask for a higher reward."