CHAPTER 100 — VEIL OF EXCHANGE
Leylin walked away from the stall, his steps steady as he headed toward where the auction was being held.
It wasn't a grand hall.
No towering pillars. No blazing lights meant to draw attention.
It was secluded. Quietly ceremonial.
At the edges of the cobblestone path, sleek, dark carriages lined both sides. Their polished surfaces reflected faint light as doors opened and closed in measured rhythm.
People stepped out.
Young masters. Noble families.
They exchanged polite nods, restrained greetings, the kind that carried more weight than the words themselves.
"Hello, Mr. Balvin."
A lady's voice, soft but deliberate.
Leylin's gaze shifted.
A stoic young man had just stepped out of one of the carriages. He glanced at her briefly before offering a polite nod in return.
Nothing more.
Yet the faint gleam in his eyes lingered a second too long.
Sharp. Measuring.
The woman noticed.
She chose not to react.
They moved on.
So did everyone else.
One by one, they began heading inside.
Leylin walked among them.
On foot.
The difference did not go unnoticed.
A few glances came his way. Brief. Curious. Some dismissive.
Others lingered longer than necessary.
He ignored them.
At the entrance, an attendant stood waiting.
Composed. Still.
"Welcome," he said, gesturing inward with one hand.
No flourish. No exaggeration.
Just control.
The doors opened.
They stepped inside.
The first thing Leylin noticed was the shift.
The underground city outside had been alive, chaotic in its own quiet way.
This place wasn't.
It felt preserved.
Like stepping into something that had already been decided long before he arrived.
The hall stretched wide, its walls lined with artifacts.
Not arranged for beauty.
For meaning.
Weapons. Relics. Fragments.
Pieces of things that no longer existed whole.
Some looked ancient enough to have been buried for centuries.
Others felt wrong just by existing.
Spears. Halberds. Blades.
Bones.
Parts of creatures that should not have been reduced to display.
Then his eyes paused.
A painting.
High above.
A woman stood within it, her hand buried into her own chest, fingers curled as though gripping something inside.
Beside her, a mirror.
And within that mirror, two flaming hearts.
"Curious, isn't it?"
The voice came from his left.
Leylin didn't turn immediately.
He let his gaze drop first, then shifted slightly.
A boy walked beside him.
Young.
Too young.
At first glance, no older than thirteen or fourteen.
Chrome glasses rested neatly on his face. His hair was short, carefully kept. His clothes screamed wealth without needing to announce it.
But his eyes, they didn't match the rest.
They were older. Watching.
Leylin said nothing.
The boy continued.
"Everything here is cataloged. Accounted for. Most of these pieces have histories people don't even know exist."
He pointed casually.
"That spear over there."
Leylin followed his gaze.
At the far end of the hall, placed on a raised platform, stood a spear.
If it could be called that.
It looked incomplete. Not broken but unfinished.
The shaft carried an odd curvature, almost organic. Along its length, faint golden rings circled it at uneven intervals. The runes carved into its body didn't glow, yet they felt present.
Alive. Breathing.
Leylin's eyes lingered for a moment.
Then he looked away.
Something about it sat wrong. Not dangerous. Not yet. Just wrong.
"You felt it," the boy said lightly.
Leylin didn't respond.
The boy smiled.
"Most people don't. They're too busy thinking about cultivation to notice anything else."
That word made Leylin glance at him.
"Cultivation?"
The boy turned his head slightly, studying him now.
"You're new."
Not a question.
Leylin held his gaze, then offered nothing.
The boy didn't wait.
"Or maybe not. You could be from one of the reclusive houses. Hard to tell."
He shrugged.
Then, as if remembering something, "Maxwell."
Leylin's attention sharpened.
"That's my name," the boy said.
A pause.
Then Leylin spoke.
"Noah."
The name came easily.
"Hmm," Maxwell nodded. "Noah. Nice name."
Leylin didn't return it.
"What's the purpose of this auction?"
Maxwell's smile shifted. That question had weight.
"I was wondering when you'd ask."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice just enough.
"This isn't just about trading resources. It's about measurement."
Leylin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Measurement?"
"The seven houses," Maxwell said. "They use this place to measure each other."
Leylin said nothing.
Maxwell continued anyway.
"Twin River. That's where you are."
He gestured lightly around them.
"This city isn't just a market. It's the center of Twinfield."
He didn't slow down.
"Seven provinces. Seven houses. Each one tied to a Marquis."
Leylin absorbed it.
"So this is power s power game"
"Exactly."
Maxwell's grin sharpened.
"And this year? It's different."
He leaned closer again.
"There's an emissary coming. From above the Marquis."
Leylin's gaze flickered.
"Above?"
Maxwell didn't answer directly.
Instead, "What kind of items do you think show up when people like that are involved?"
Leylin held his gaze.
"What kind?"
Maxwell's voice dropped to a near whisper.
"I've heard there might be something from a Domain user."
That made Leylin pause.
Maxwell watched him closely now.
"Not something you see in places like this."
Silence stretched for a second.
Then Leylin asked, "Have you started cultivating?"
Maxwell leaned back slightly. A small smile formed.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
For the first time, Maxwell hesitated. His gaze drifted briefly, then returned.
"I'm waiting. For something."
He didn't answer fully.
Just as the conversation was about to continue, the attendant's voice cut through the moment.
"We are here."
Ahead, two large doors stood closed. Guards on either side, still, waiting.
With a single motion, the attendant gestured. The doors opened.
Maxwell straightened.
"Well, time to see what might shape my foundation," he said, glancing at Leylin once. Then he stepped forward with the others.
Leylin followed. But his mind didn't.
It stayed behind.
On one thing.
Cultivation.
If these people cultivated, then where were the ones who stood at the peak?
And why had he not seen them?
Author's Note: This chapter marks a milestone in my writing. I've refined my style to better reflect my voice..cleaner pacing, smoother dialogue, and immersive perspective. Future chapters will follow this approach, so any rough edges in earlier chapters should be read as part of the journey toward this point.