Chapter 227

A huge cruise ship was sailing toward the Steinberg port, about a hundred miles away from the coast.

"Sir, we're approaching Steinberg port. We'll be docking in a little over two hours," one subordinate said nervously to the towering and robust middle-aged man standing at the bow of the ship.

The middle-aged man, dressed in a black shirt with a crudely written "Malcolm Sect" on his back, stood tall like a sword at the bow, unperturbed even as the waves rocked the ship from side to side.

On the decks around him stood over a hundred apprentices of the Malcolm Sect, dressed in white shirts with the words "Malcolm Sect" in red on their backs.

"Too slow!" the middle-aged man said coldly. His cold gaze penetrated the distance of a hundred miles, fixating on the Steinberg port across the sea.

"I'll go ahead. You continue with the docking plan as scheduled," the middle-aged man ordered.

The subordinates were stunned!

Going ahead? But this was the sea! Didn't they all need to travel to