Night had fallen over the City of Celestial Spear.
The Auction Pavilion stood at the center of the commercial district. The street outside was congested. Noble carriages, mercenaries, and cultivators formed a noisy line, fighting over the few remaining seats on the ground floor.
Zhì Yuǎn's group did not join the line. They walked straight toward the double doors of the main entrance.
Under the illusion veil, they looked like nothing more than another group of dusty, insignificant outsiders. The reception manager, dressed in immaculate silk robes, stepped forward and raised his hand, blocking their path.
"The line for the ground floor is outside," he said, with the automatic tone of someone who had repeated the same phrase for hours. "And we require proof of funds before granting entry."
Mò Yán did not respond. She simply took the Black Jade Medallion from her sleeve and placed it on the counter.
The manager froze.
His gaze dropped from the ragged group to the black plaque engraved with the jade crest of the Lǐ Clan. The personal medallion of the Young Master. For a brief moment, his expression wavered. Then, he simply returned the plaque and lowered his head.
"Understood."
He snapped his fingers without looking back. A young female attendant in fine silk immediately approached.
"Escort the guests to Private Chamber One," the manager ordered.
The woman nodded with a trained smile and made a polite gesture toward the side corridor.
The side staircase was narrow, guided by an attendant who climbed the steps swaying her hips exaggeratedly beneath the thin silk.
Yù Méi walked right behind her with her hands clasped behind her neck. The warrior let out a drawn-out yawn.
"Why are we even doing this?" the youngest asked, staring at the ceiling. "I slept through half the explanation about the auction, but I still don't understand why we need this."
Yù Qíng, walking while clinging to Zhì Yuǎn's arm, did not even turn her face to answer.
"Our new sister found a method of entertainment right away." The eldest sister's voice sounded calm and docile. "Why not take advantage of it?"
Yù Méi clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
"Entertainment would be killing everyone at once and ending it quickly," Yù Méi grumbled, stretching her arms. "Playing auction games feels like a waste of time. It's not like we need their money."
Yù Méi turned her face to Zhì Yuǎn and gave a slow, malice-laden wink—a direct and dirty invitation, trying to disarm the man's posture right there in the corridor.
Zhì Yuǎn let out a low chuckle through his nose. He didn't reply, but the dark look he returned to the young woman confirmed that the provocation had worked exactly as she intended.
The attendant stopped and opened a heavy carved wooden door. The group entered, and the woman closed the door from the outside with a dry click.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
The isolation matrices on the walls flickered. The chaotic noise of thousands of cultivators sweating and shouting on the ground floor was cut off at once, crushed by the one-way crystal glass. The interior of Private Chamber One was dominated by absolute silence, dark velvet armchairs, and the clean scent of freshly poured green tea. Outside, the tension reeked of desperation. Inside, only boredom reigned.
Zhì Yuǎn walked to the main armchair and sat down, reclining without hurry. Yù Qíng slid straight onto his lap, resting her body against his chest. He slipped an arm around her waist and let his hand slide down to lightly squeeze his wife's buttocks—a calm and distracted gesture as he listened to Mò Yán.
Yù Méi threw herself onto a side divan, crossing her legs and returning to staring at the ceiling with evident boredom.
None of the three paid attention to the stage through the glass.
Only Mò Yán moved to the edge of the chamber. The diplomat stopped before the crystal pillar embedded in the wall. Her posture changed; her modesty gave way to the sharp mind of someone born to read political boards.
She took the Black Jade Medallion of the Lǐ Clan from her sleeve and inserted it into the panel's slot. The crystal plaque glowed, linking the chamber directly to the coffers of the ruling family of the city.
Mò Yán rested her hands on the edge of the window. Her eyes drifted down to the Host Chamber on the opposite side of the pavilion.
Patriarch Lǐ sat at the head of the table, displaying a calm and absolutely confident smile to the guild leaders around him. He believed he controlled the board.
The corners of Mò Yán's lips curved in response. A silent, mocking smile.
She touched the crystal of the panel. The plaque linked to the heir's medallion glowed, locking the connection to the clan's coffers.
"The pieces are already in place," the diplomat murmured, her voice clinical and entertained. "The curtain of the play is about to rise."
Zhì Yuǎn listened in silence. His hand continued moving slowly over Yù Qíng's buttocks, squeezing occasionally with a distracted calm, as if his wife's body were a natural extension of himself while his attention lay elsewhere.
Mò Yán turned her face to Zhì Yuǎn, a dangerous glint illuminating her scarlet eyes.
"Let's see how far they're willing to writhe, my heaven."
Down below, the auctioneer stepped onto the podium and struck the wooden gavel. The dull echo vibrated lightly against the chamber's glass, announcing the beginning of the slaughter.
Mò Yán placed her finger on the crystal panel.
------
The echo of the wooden gavel rose to the Host Chamber, on the opposite side of the pavilion.
Patriarch Lǐ sat at the head of a round mahogany table. He gripped a porcelain cup tightly enough to turn his fingertips white. In the three seats around him, the leaders of the largest merchant guilds in the metropolis drank tea in silence. The room smelled of fine herbs, but the tension inside was dense.
The leader of the Gold Guild, a plump man with rings on every finger, rested his saucer on the table and opened a friendly smile.
"Your clan's tea remains excellent, Patriarch," the man said, crossing his hands over his stomach. "But I confess I miss the energy of youth. Young Lǐ Wēi used to open these events. Has he not returned from his trip to the south?"
Patriarch Lǐ tightened his grip on the porcelain. The question wasn't out of longing. It was a tactical probe. If the guilds were certain the heir was missing and the clan was out of reserves, the tax payments would stop the next morning. Lǐ's empire would crumble.
The Patriarch forced his breathing to remain steady and took a sip of tea.
"Lǐ Wēi is on his way," he replied, his voice polished and firm. "He should arrive at any moment. Tonight's auction is merely to clear our coffers of some relics that no longer serve us."
The three leaders exchanged a silent, skeptical look. The plump man's smile didn't waver, but he said nothing more.
The chamber door opened without a sound.
A pavilion attendant walked quickly to the Patriarch's chair, leaned in, and whispered near his ear.
"Patriarch... the Young Master's personal medallion just activated the crystal pillar in Private Chamber One."
Patriarch Lǐ's spine lost its rigidity instantly. The man's shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch, and he exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Genuine relief washed over his chest.
Finally.
He and his son had agreed on this before Lǐ Wēi left for his hunt. The boy would use the medallion to access the main chamber and begin moderately inflating the bids, helping to increase the auction's final value without drawing too much attention. The goal was simply to show strength, make the guilds spend a little more, and reinforce the clan's authority.
The Patriarch leaned back in his mahogany chair. The tension faded from his face, replaced by a real, relieved smile. He said nothing about his son having arrived. He merely looked at the guild leaders with a calm expression and took another sip of tea.
On the other side of the hall, behind the dark glass of Private Chamber One, someone had already connected the medallion.
The plan was in motion.
------
The master of ceremonies was already at the granite podium in the center of the ground floor when the echo of the wooden gavel marked the beginning of the event. The noise of conversations in the crowd ceased.
"Welcome!" the auctioneer's voice echoed through the pavilion. "To open our night, the Lǐ Clan offers a true wonder of nature! The Golden Lotus of the Ninth Heaven! Harvested on peaks where tribulation lightning touches the earth, this flower stabilizes the mind and wards off heart demons! Starting bid: five hundred Spirit Stones!"
On the ground floor, a mercenary raised his plaque.
"Six hundred!"
"Seven hundred!" countered a lesser guild leader in the front row.
In Private Chamber One, the silence was absolute.
Yù Qíng remained lying on Zhì Yuǎn's lap, her head resting against his chest. She looked at the golden flower displayed on the stage through the thick crystal. Her dark eyes narrowed slightly.
"It's a parasitic herb," she murmured, her voice low and disinterested. "It absorbs sunlight during the day and glows at night. The Qi is thin, almost nonexistent. To mortals, it seems precious. To us… it's not even good enough to make tea. The taste is bitter and it stabilizes nothing beyond the imagination of those who believe in legends."
Mò Yán stood before the bidding panel, her pale hands resting on the wooden edge. Her scarlet eyes coldly analyzed the hall below.
"Exactly," she replied, her voice calm and clinical. "It's an expensive decoration. And that is why we are going to pay for it."
She touched the panel's crystal. The plaque connected to the heir's medallion glowed.
On the ground floor, the bidding matrix above the auctioneer blinked.
"Private Chamber One offers…" the auctioneer choked slightly. "…Two thousand five hundred Spirit Stones!"
Yù Qíng, still lying on Zhì Yuǎn's lap, opened a small, satisfied smile upon hearing the auctioneer choke.
The entire hall froze.
Two thousand five hundred stones for a flower that, deep down, was just a plant that glowed in the dark. It wasn't a bid—it was a declaration. Someone in the main chamber was willing to pay five times the real value just to take the item from the hands of anyone else.
In the Host Chamber, the porcelain cup cracked in Patriarch Lǐ's hand.
Hot tea ran down the old man's fingers, but he didn't even feel it. For a heartbeat, his brain stalled. The plan he had agreed upon with his son was to inflate the bids moderately, helping to increase the final value without drawing too much attention. Spending so much on a decorative flower was not part of the plan.
He raised his face and looked at the dark glass of Private Chamber One. His eyes narrowed.
This is not Lǐ Wēi.
Cold sweat ran down the Patriarch's temple. He forced his breathing to calm and, with visible effort, transformed his shocked expression into something more controlled—a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.
He set the cracked cup on the table and wiped his fingers on the sleeve of his tunic. When he raised his face again, his smile was broad and welcoming.
"It seems the Lǐ Clan has attracted a high-caliber sponsor tonight," he said, his voice clear and satisfied, looking at the three guild leaders. "A benefactor willing to invest generously in our auction. What excellent news."
He pushed his chair back and stood up with elegance.
"I will go to the main chamber to personally greet this great friend of the clan. Surely his presence deserves our direct thanks."
The three guild leaders also stood up almost simultaneously. The leader of the Gold Guild opened a wide smile, his eyes shining with interest.
"If the Lǐ Clan has found a sponsor willing to spend so much, it would be bad manners not to go pay our respects as well," he said, with a tone that sounded polite but carried a sharp curiosity. "Allow us to accompany you, Patriarch."
Patriarch Lǐ felt his chest tighten for a heartbeat.
He couldn't refuse. Refusing would be admitting he had something to hide. And if he tried to stop the guilds from coming along, it would only worsen the suspicions.
He kept the smile on his face and simply nodded.
"Of course. Let's go together."
As he climbed the stairs toward the second floor, followed by the three guild leaders, Patriarch Lǐ felt the sweat running down his back. None of them said anything, but he could feel their gazes on his back—curious, sharp, waiting.
He didn't know who was behind that door. He only knew that, whoever it was, had just put the Lǐ Clan in an extremely delicate position.
And now he had no choice but to find out.