The elderly auctioneer moved to the first item and unveiled it. Among the glittering treasures, Michael's eyes locked onto a single, unassuming white crystal. The other lots might as well have been invisible.
From her observation suite, Evelyn followed his gaze. A flicker of surprise passed through her. He knows. She had placed the Thunder Core in the auction hoping a discerning eye from Blue Star might recognize its value for comprehending the laws of lightning. But for Michael to identify it was astonishing; such knowledge was far beyond the planet's general understanding. The only explanation was a profound inheritance, perhaps even more advanced than the one she and his father had received in their youth. A wave of hope and pride washed over her.
The auction commenced. The first item was a suit of body armor for the Planetary Realm, which was quickly purchased by a second-stage Planetary warrior. Michael didn't even glance at it; his current strength rendered it obsolete. The armor he wore now was merely a habit forged over five years of survival.
The second item was a potion to assist in breaking through to the Planetary Realm. A bidding war erupted, with David finally securing it for a staggering 10 billion dollars. He shot a triumphant, sneering look toward Michael's booth, but received no reaction. Michael was a statue, his patience reserved for one thing only.
Finally, the auctioneer approached the white crystal. "Lot number seven: a mysterious white crystal, impervious to even a ninth-stage Planetary Realm warrior's strength. Its exact purpose is unknown. We start the bidding at 10 million dollars."
The price climbed slowly, with hesitant bids from curious buyers. "Twenty million." "Twenty-five."
"One hundred million," Michael's voice cut through the murmurs, calm and clear.
Heads turned. David, seeing his chance to provoke, immediately countered. "Two hundred million."
"Four hundred million," Michael replied without hesitation. For him, the Thunder Core was the sole reason for his attendance; cost was irrelevant.
"Five hundred million," David called out, a nasty smirk twisting his features. "Weak dogs aren't allowed in higher places. I'm surprised the auction house even lets his kind in."
A faint, chilling killing intent flickered in Michael's eyes, but he kept his composure. The game was not worth descending to their level prematurely.
"Two billion," he stated, his voice flat and final.
The hall fell silent. Even David was taken aback, his smirk vanishing. The price was absurd for an unknown object. The auctioneer's gavel fell. "Sold to the gentleman in the VIP section!"
As a waiter brought the Thunder Core to Michael, David, stung by his loss and the crowd's attention, couldn't resist a final jab. "Worthless people collect garbage. Some things never change—still trying to cling to a woman's prestige to show off."
That was the final straw.
In an instant, the luxurious stand shattered. Michael shot through the air, a blur of motion. A crushing pressure—his Killing Field Domain—slammed down on the entire auction hall, freezing everyone in place. He landed before David, who was paralyzed under the immense spiritual weight.
Michael's hand closed around David's throat, lifting him effortlessly. "I ignored you not out of weakness, but because I consider it a waste of time to step on ants," Michael's voice was dangerously soft, yet it echoed in the terrified silence. "But if you are so insistently suicidal, who am I to deny you?"
He was about to deliver the final blow when a voice rang out from above. "You can't kill him! It is illegal to kill within the city!" Evelyn descended, her expression a mixture of urgency and pain. She had hoped to intervene before it came to this.
Michael didn't turn to look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the terrified David in his grasp. "You are lucky someone always comes to save you," Michael murmured, his voice dripping with contempt. "Consider this your final warning. The next time you or any of your family cross my path, there will be no warning. Only death."
He threw David to the floor like a discarded rag. Finally, he turned his head, his eyes meeting his mother's directly for the first time.
"And you," he said, his voice cold enough to freeze the very air. "Do not interfere again. I have no relation to your so-called family. If any of them come to annoy me, the consequences will not be 'simple.' Warn them. Threaten them. The choice is yours."
Without waiting for a reply, he vanished from the spot, the oppressive domain lifting as suddenly as it had appeared.
Evelyn stood amidst the wreckage, her heart aching. Her intervention had only driven him further away.
David, scrambling to his feet, stammered out an apology, his face pale with fear. "A-Aunt Evelyn, it was my mistake! My family had no part in this!"
But Evelyn was no longer listening. She disappeared in a flicker of light, leaving David alone in the center of the staring crowd. He shuddered, realizing the terrible storm his arrogance had unleashed, and that his entire family would likely suffer for his mistake.