The voice that came was like an avalanche, as if the earth's wrath had descended from the heavens, shaking the entire hall.
The walls seemed to distort under the crushing pressure, bending like trees swaying in a storm.
It was a dreadful sight for everyone present in the hall.
Disciples from minor sects, members of third-rate forces, and even spies from major factions all turned pale.
The weaker monks couldn't move, their backs drenched in sweat, as the pressure focused mainly on one private room.
It wasn't exactly killing intent.
Everyone felt as though the heavens themselves were falling, the earth crumbling, and the hall's walls groaning as if they might give way.
Gasps echoed across the seating area as dust fell from the ceiling, as if the entire structure could collapse at any moment.
"T-this pressure!" The two old men in the private room gasped. The elders behind them were ashen-faced, fists clenched, hearts tight. "What realm is this? I can't see through it…"
"I was once fortunate enough to encounter a passing Golden Core Ancestor. Even then, I could still recognize his aura."
"But this is different—like a boundless ocean, a bottomless abyss… I think this Senior may really be a Nascent Soul Ancestor."
"Indeed. Usually, even a Golden Core expert's aura is recognizable, but this one… it's so deep, as if I'm staring into the abyss," the thin old man said, sweat running down his face as he forced his half-squinted eyes open, looking fearfully toward the highest private room. "I agree with you. There's no doubt."
"But for such a figure to suddenly appear in this barren city… for what reason?"
"Don't say it. It might bring disaster upon us," the fat old man muttered, sinking into his seat, silently praying that the Dustpetal Cult leader's actions wouldn't implicate them tonight.
In the next room, Nie Baoyan and her followers felt the same unease.
Their earlier confidence now felt meaningless. Whoever was behind that private room was far more terrifying than they had expected.
Golden Core monk?
No, this kind of spiritual pressure could shake the entire city, perhaps more.
An elder hurried to her side and whispered a message from their spies in the nearby regions.
"What!"
Her hand gripped the chair's armrest tightly. "You're saying our spies could see a gigantic bird's image above this city, even from that distance?"
"Yes, Sect Master. It seems to be a dharma image—something only a Nascent Soul Ancestor could manifest."
The elder then took out a strange stone, channeled spiritual energy into it, and a translucent image appeared.
It showed distant cities, all looking in the same direction, where a colossal eagle dharma image towered over the horizon.
In a way, it was a relief. To have such a figure in their region meant that when the sky fell, someone strong enough would be there to hold it up.
Especially with the approaching red tide—the dark red fog calamity.
"Damn it, this aura… that woman really lucked out," she muttered through gritted teeth. The elders around her only smiled bitterly.
Meanwhile, in the Dustpetal Cult's private room, their leader felt the pressure most intensely.
His mask creaked as his entire body struggled against the invisible weight. His hands shook, teeth clenched, knees locked as he fought to stay upright.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
The pressure pushed down harder.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
"Argh, nooo!"
The elders around him collapsed like leaves in a storm, their faces pressed to the floor in terror.
They were nothing more than a small boat caught in a stormy sea, powerless against the overwhelming force.
Then, as if satisfied, or perhaps simply testing them, Liam's voice echoed again, deep and calm, ageless. "Anything special… in that storage ring of yours?"
'A bribe?'
'This Senior wants something?'
The voice was only for him. The walls still creaked under the pressure. He glanced at the struggling elders around him, then made a swift decision.
"An… an egg! An ancient egg!"
"Send someone to give it to me."
Liam waved his hand, withdrawing his divine pressure from the venue.
In an instant.
Swoosh!
The suffocating pressure vanished. The people below felt as if they had just stepped back from the gates of hell.
They wiped the sweat from their foreheads, glancing in awe toward the uppermost room.
"The owner of the Purple Cloud Pavilion just made a move."
"Yeah, but that Senior didn't kill that demonic cultivator."
"Perhaps it was just a warning. After all, if the rumors are true, the Dustpetal Cult is backed by a second-rate force, and possibly another Nascent Soul Ancestor."
"That makes sense. Otherwise, they wouldn't dare come this far just for a Foundation Building puppet. Normally they'd be hunted down before reaching the central region."
"What a pity… I hoped the Senior would kill him. But perhaps even powerful experts must be careful."
"Not out of fear, but to protect us—the ones living here."
"You mean?"
"If two Nascent Soul Ancestors fought here, this entire region would be wiped out. No city would survive."
Hearing this, many cultivators nodded. Their view of the mysterious Senior shifted from awe to respect.
Back in Liam's private room.
The moment he heard "egg," Liam smiled faintly.
Anything a Foundation Building cultivator stored would usually be valuable.
'Ancient egg? Hopefully something worthwhile,' he thought, drumming his fingers against the armrest.
Ilya glanced at him curiously. "Did you do something to him, Liam?"
"Just a warning." Liam's smile remained calm, unreadable. "Someone will come shortly. Make sure to take whatever he brings."
"Alright," Ilya nodded, understanding his meaning.
Back in the main hall, the female auctioneer regained her composure and raised her arm toward the audience.
"Anyone willing to bid more than two million?"
"The bid goes once!"
"The bid goes twice!"
"Sold!"
Slap!
She struck the hammer on the table, the crowd cheering and whispering.
All eyes turned toward the cloaked figure in the audience. Which Senior dared challenge a force backed by a second, rate power?
Without enough strength, this was a death sentence. He was lucky the Nascent Soul Senior had intervened.
Inside the Dustpetal Cult's room, the leader's expression was grim. He cast one last glance toward the topmost private room before growling, "Curse my luck!"
Bam!
He smashed the table into splinters. The elders tried to calm him.
"Sect Leader, it's better if we leave now. We were lucky that Senior didn't take our lives."
"But if not for that brat!"
Bam!
He slammed the table again and stood, towering over the rest, his eyes burning behind the mask. "His disguise can't hide his age from me. What a joke."
"A child? Should we…" One of the elders' voices trailed off darkly. "Kill him?"
"Wait until he leaves the city." The leader glanced again at the uppermost room. "That Senior seems partial toward the righteous path. Otherwise, we'd already be dead."
With that, he turned and left, his followers trailing behind.
As the auction ended and guests began leaving, everyone knew one thing.
Tonight would be a bloody night.
Liam knew this as well, but he didn't concern himself with the monks' grudges.
Unless they involved him, he wouldn't interfere.
After the auction ended, Liam sent several puppets to keep watch, especially on the mysterious cloaked figure he found interesting.
Then he returned home with two eggs in his storage bag. One from Ilya's seller, the other from the Dustpetal Cult leader.