The badge of a white gold moon hung from the newcomer's lapel. There was a heaviness to his aura that the old man didn't have, not because the old man was weaker… but maybe because this newcomer—the Patriarch of the Luminescent Moon Sect—wasn't an assassin.
The difference between facing a powerhouse that had spent a lifetime learning to mask their aura, and one that was used to flexing it to establish prestige, was akin to night and day.
And yet, this man still made Theron feel far warmer than the old man ever could have.
This feeling, though, only lasted for a brief instant before Theron shrugged it off, frowning inwardly.
He didn't like that feeling just now, the feeling of reverence. It was like he almost naturally gave way for the man.
