In return to such aggression, Ilya didn't bite back or anything.
She didn't raise her voice or step back.
Instead, she clasped her hands politely, the gesture deliberate but soft.
A flick of her fingers sent a subtle signal to the side.
Her eyes, half-squinted, held no ripple of hostility.
Though through the subtle ripple as her chest shook, the woman's eyes narrowed even further.
Clearly dissatisfied with the "asset" Ilya possessed.
Though, with that gentle smile of hers, seemingly sincere, it would've been hard for anyone to imagine she held even a thread of malice.
"Please, Senior…"
"I mean no harm whatsoever with my presence here today." Ilya straightened her spine slightly, posture elegant.
The slight arch over her chest made the front of her dress shift just enough to draw attention, subtle but noticeable.
The elder on the left, following the petite woman almost had his eyes popped out of the sockets.
Though with a simple jab from the petite woman to the side of his waist, he jolted, hurriedly lowering his gaze.
Cough!
Cough!
Ilya smiled to this, giving a wink to the elders and disciples behind the petite woman.
Causing them to flinch as the petite woman glared back.
Then she gestured again, calm eyes, a composed smile, offering provocation wrapped in kindness. "Please, have a seat and enjoy tonight's event. I'm sure Senior won't be disappointed by what's in store for the final item."
The woman blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden softness.
Her eyes shifted, doubt, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of realization, as they moved across Ilya's figure once more, trailing up and down.
"No wonder... A brain, huh."
She brushed past, the sound of her voice carrying a hum, off-key, intentional, meant to leave an impression.
As she passed, the faint breeze shifted, and their dresses rustled against each other, just barely touching.
Ilya caught a trace of her fragrance, unfamiliar and oddly distinct.
Her chin lifted slightly, head tilted, as her gaze turned to watch the woman's back retreat.
Behind her, the woman's followers in matching crimson robes hurried to keep up.
Ilya's eyes dimmed, then glinted faintly.
'Flat btch'
Though her hand slipped into her sleeve and withdrew a small token.
Liam had handed this to her personally before she set off.
The use of it hadn't been fully explained, only that whenever she came across someone, young, powerful, and with an unusual personality, she was to activate it.
So, she did.
A thin thread of spiritual energy flowed into the token, weaving through the intricate curves etched into its surface.
Then, it glowed.
Somewhere, far away, Liam's eyes lit up for a brief moment.
The token had relayed everything.
Like a tiny film playing in his mind, every detail of what Ilya had experienced unfolded clearly before him.
He saw the woman's appearance, her movements, her aura, and most importantly, her bone age.
Young. Very young.
He didn't need more than a glance to judge it.
Her robes gave away her origin instantly: Violet Needle Sect.
A once-renowned sect, now reduced to a shell of its former self.
Once, it was a powerful overlord, even had it's branches in the other region.
Its current leader? Just one foundation building cultivator.
Liam exhaled lightly.
What a waste.
For someone like her, clearly talented, still in her twenties, to stay and lead a nearly crumbled sect… it didn't add up.
There had to be more behind it.
Among the many second rate sects, Violet Needle sect stood out for one reason: their secrecy.
They kept their distance from the outside world, avoided contact, often choosing seclusion over interaction.
And now, their leader had traveled all this way.
'All the way here from such a distance'
'But sadly enough, she's the only foundation building cultivator in her sect. Without her, the Violet Needle sect would've crumbled already'
Then...
The intent was clear.
She was here to gain strength for her sect.
But… why now?
Liam mulled, clearly intrigued.
To him, this woman appeared to be oddly similar to Ilya.
A heroine, potentially.
Which meant, there should be a protagonist for her.
"What a wonderful night it is..."
The question lingered in Liam's mind. His interest was piqued, but just a little.
"If she really is someone touched by fate," Liam mused, a faint curve forming at the edge of his mouth, "I wonder who her... male lead would be."
The thought amused him.
Plans started to take shape in his head.
A "script" to welcome her into his dungeon.
Whether she was a protagonist or not, her traits, her behavior, cautiousness, and hidden anxiety, told Liam what he needed to know.
She was suitable.
"Another child of destiny? What sparks can she bring to this already messy situation?"
Back at the auction venue, deep beneath the ground, Ilya crossed paths with two more forces that had arrived for the event.
Unlike the Violet Sect's leader, these two were far more courteous.
They spoke with respect, offered proper greetings.
One was the Windspike Caravan. A huge group that ran multiple businesses. A chamber of commerce, a business route under their name, and even a mercenary group.
Two old men, one thin and one fat. They offered Ilya a proper and polite greeting. Though the way how the fat one kept looking over her chest made her uncomfortable.
Timely enough, the two guards behind her 'accidentally' leaked their auras which caused the fat old man's expression to turn sour for a moment.
A clear warning since Liam was watching the whole time.
Then, there was another group.
A sect, or to be more precise, a cult of the magic way.
The Dustpetal cult, a very tedious force that somehow still exist to this day.
For this one, it was a group of strangely dressed people that came. Headed by a tall dark cloaked figure wearing a horrifying mask over his face.
Stumbling Ilya, he offered a hoarse and yet polite greeting. His voice scraped like metal, echoing against the pathway walls.
Ilya returned the gesture, matching their politeness. Then, they made their way, passing her side.
The smell of blood was hidden, deliberately so, but for her, it was as obvious as the sun.
'They reek of blood'
The name 'The wailing sect' suits them.
Her demeanor didn't change.
After all, they were here to spend, here to make her and Liam rich.
If not for that, they wouldn't have received even half a smile.
That belonged to someone else already.
In her thoughts…
Or rather, tucked away at the back of her mind, Ilya had long since accepted it, she was Liam's woman now.
Truly.
What woman wouldn't feel drawn to a man like that?
Strong, composed, with layers she couldn't yet unravel. A man who held power quietly, without needing to flaunt it.
A man that held secrets, potentially one that was tied to a much bigger stage than she could ever guess.
And most of all, in this city… she felt safe.
Safe, simply knowing he was watching over her.
As she made her way down the hallway toward a room, there was a lightness to her steps.
A quiet sense of satisfaction with how everything had unfolded.
Her shop had grown so much.
Her growing reputation.
And the weight of her old worries fading away, not because those chasing her had given up, but because now, she was in better hands.
Though there was one thing that she lied before. But ultimately, 'I think he already knew I lied about having a father as my backup plan'
Well...
Liam didn't know either.
All he knew was that, Ilya's father was somewhere far away from here. But as long as she was close to him, her safety wasn't something to be worried about.
The moment she stepped inside, her eyes swept across the dimly lit space.
The room hadn't been designed by her.
That responsibility had fallen to a foundation building guard, someone competent enough to handle matters she didn't want to spend time on.
In truth, she'd delegated a lot of the smaller decisions to others.
A side man for the miscellaneous.
It was the late stage foundation building puppet Liam gave her.
And yet… as she paced toward the couch by the wide one-way window, even she had to admit: the room looked beautiful.
A chandelier hung overhead, casting a soft glow.
A table of dishes was neatly arranged in front of the couch, untouched.
And the window, spanning nearly the entire wall, offered a perfect view of everything below.
"That Senior's taste in decorations sure are exquisite"
Around the venue, the other VIP rooms were arranged in a ring, slightly lower than hers.
Most of them were already occupied by representatives of foundation-building forces.
And at the center of it all, beneath the attention of every eye, stood a large raised platform.
There, a woman in a sleek, red dress stood poised, the very image of confidence.
The crowd below began settling into their seats, their voices rising and falling in bursts of chatter.
The excitement in the air was unmistakable, everyone waiting, anticipation building.
Tonight's auction… was about to begin.
"What a wonderful night it is... "