What followed over the next five days was an economic bloodbath that would be spoken of in the teahouses of Crimson Iron City for decades.
It was a slow, agonizing psychological torture disguised as a commercial war, and just as Shen Yu predicted, the Cao Clan walked blindly into the noose.
On the first afternoon, when the Golden Cauldron Union unrolled their own massive gold-trimmed banners announcing an immediate fifty-six percent discount, the manic energy in the streets instantly split.
The crowd ran back to the union's shops, drawn by the superior alchemical purity.
Inside the Cao Clan council hall, Patriarch Cao Yan received the news like a slap to the face. Panic clouded his judgment.
Surrounded by bleeding ledger books and terrified elders, he pushed his chips into the center of the table.
"They think they can choke us?!" he roared.
"Match them and add a point! Drop it to fifty-seven!"
The bait was taken.
The dance of death began.
