Chapter 415. Veins Peak
Even before the sun had fully risen, Veins Peak was already alive with motion and energy. The skies buzzed with immortal practitioners soaring between floating platforms, while docks echoed with the clamor of goods being loaded and unloaded.
Dozens of ships—merchant vessels, adventurer craft, and even some infamous pirate ships—lined the massive port, giving the island an air of both chaos and importance.
Beastmen with fur-covered arms hoisted crates alongside fishmen carrying barrels with their slippery hands.
Birdfolk fluttered down from the skies with scrolls and supplies, and even a few elves moved gracefully between the crowds, their elegance stark against the noisy bustle.
At the heart of the island stood the tall mountain. From a distance, it looked like a divine monument cleaved by the heavens themselves. Cracks like giant veins ran down its stone surface, pulsing with an ancient glow. It stood as both a symbol of mystery and majesty. According to the Myth, the veins were created by a God from Ancient Times and brings Lucks to the person visits there.
"Do you think the fake Phantom Pirates will show up?" asked a young immortal practitioner, sweat running down his forehead as he carried a stack of spirit-infused crates.
"I don’t know," his older friend replied while adjusting the heavy barrel in his arms. "There’s only five months left until the real event. I just hope they appear before then. I could use a good show."
Their conversation was cut short as a sudden commotion broke out along the docks. People stopped mid-task, some dropping tools and cargo, and rushed to the shoreline. Even airbound practitioners paused mid-flight to glance toward the horizon.
Something was coming.
Fast.
A ship—black as night and seemingly shrouded in its own storm of darkness—was speeding toward the island at an incredible pace. The morning light had only just begun to break across the waters, but the approaching vessel remained cloaked in an ominous gloom.