Finally, the auctioneer gestured to a rack brought on stage.
"Next up!" she announced, her voice rising in excitement. "A masterpiece for the aspiring swordsman! A Tier 1 Gale Wind Sword! Forged from pure Wind Iron, capable of increasing attack speed by 20%!"
Yoriichi sat up straighter. His creation.
The crowd murmured appreciatively. Good weapons were rare in Wu Tan City, especially ones with elemental attributes.
"Starting bid: 500 gold coins!"
"800!" "1000!" "1,500!"
The price climbed rapidly. Mercenaries loved wind-attribute weapons because speed meant life.
"2,200! Going once... twice... Sold!"
Yoriichi nodded to himself. 2,200. Good.
Next was the Broadsaber. It went to a burly mercenary for 1,900.
Then the Daggers. Assassins and scouts drove the price up to 2,000.
Finally, his batch of pills—mostly looted from the bullies—sold in a bulk lot for 4,200.
Yoriichi did the math in his head.
"2,200 + 1,900 + 2,000 + 4,200 + the 2,000 from direct sales... almost 12,000 gold coins."
A sense of relief washed over him.
"I am not poor anymore," Yoriichi thought, a small puff of air escaping his lips. "I can buy Star Iron. I can buy Platinum flux. If I find special ores in the market, I have the power to claim them."
He watched the rest of the auction—rare medicinal herbs from the distant deserts, strange ores that glowed in the dark, and even a slave girl (which made his stomach turn, reminding him of the demons' cruelty)—but he bought nothing. He was focused on his goal.
While Yoriichi was mentally shopping for metallurgy supplies, a different conversation was happening upstairs.
The VIP Suite - Room 1.
This room overlooked the entire auction hall through a one-way glass window. The floor was covered in thick carpets, and the furniture was carved from scented rosewood.
Sitting on a velvet couch was Ya Fei, the alluring manager of the Miteer Auction House. She wore a tight-fitting qipao that accentuated her curves, her red lips curved in a professional smile.
Sitting opposite her was a figure shrouded in a large black robe.
The Mysterious Alchemist. (Xiao Yan in disguise).
The atmosphere in the room was tense but polite. They had just concluded a deal for a batch of Foundation Elixirs.
Suddenly, a side door opened. The appraiser from downstairs entered quietly, bowed to Ya Fei, and whispered into her ear.
"Manager... Young Master Xiao Ning brought in high-quality weapons... sold for nearly 12,000... very surprising craftsmanship..."
Ya Fei raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Xiao Ning?" she thought, annoyed. "That silk-pants? I thought he only knew how to spend money on women. Since when does he forge weapons?"
She dismissed the thought. It was a minor curiosity.
However, the "Alchemist" sitting opposite her froze.
Beneath the black hood, Xiao Yan's eyes narrowed. He heard the name.
Xiao Ning.
The memory of that night—the laughter, Xun'er walking with him, and the "mockery" of Yoriichi's calm demeanor—flared up in his mind.
Even though Xun'er had cleared up the misunderstanding the very next day, explaining gently that Xiao Ning had only approached her to ask important questions about the Magic Beast Mountains and that she, in her helping nature, couldn't bear to see her cousin remain useless—it still stung. Logic said one thing, but his heart felt another.
"He is here?" Xiao Yan thought, gripping his teacup tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "And he's making money? 12,000 gold coins?"
It wasn't that Xiao Yan was poor. As a budding alchemist with Yao Chen's guidance, he could generate wealth. But his expenses were monstrous; every coin he earned was immediately drained into buying rare herbs to fuel his own desperate climb back to power. He was always on the edge of bankruptcy.
To think that Xiao Ning—a silk-pants who had never worked a day in his life—was suddenly raking in thousands of gold coins by selling "crafted weapons"?
"He probably stole them from the clan armory," Xiao Yan rationalized bitterly, his blood boiling at the thought. "Or he used the First Elder's influence to get them. He is making easy money while I bleed for every copper."
The jealousy he had suppressed with Yao Chen's help bubbled up again. It wasn't just about Xun'er now; it was about the unfairness of it all. Xiao Ning was succeeding effortlessly while Xiao Yan was struggling in the shadows, fighting for every scrap of dignity.
Xiao Yan gritted his teeth. He felt petty. He knew it was petty. But the urge to strike back at the "arrogant" cousin was overwhelming.
He glanced at the charming manager.
"Miss Ya Fei," the Alchemist spoke, his voice deepened by a throat-modulating technique to sound old and raspy. "I need a little favor from you."
Ya Fei perked up immediately. Keeping this Tier 2 Alchemist happy was her top priority.
"Mister, please be frank," she smiled, leaning forward slightly. "We will do anything within our powers."
Xiao Yan hesitated for a split second, then committed.
"Few days ago," the rasping voice continued, "I met that... silk-pants young master of the Xiao Clan. Xiao Ning. I was disheartened to see him disrespecting me openly in the streets. He has no eyes for Mt. Tai."
"I wish that you could teach him a lesson on my behalf."
Ya Fei frowned.
Her mind raced. "Xiao Ning? He offended a Tier 2 Alchemist? That idiot."
But then she hesitated. "But didn't this Alchemist tell us to treat the Xiao Clan well earlier? Why is he now asking to bully one of their young masters? Is this a test?"
She looked at the black-robed figure. The aura coming from him was cold and expectant.
She weighed the options.
Option A: Protect Xiao Ning (a minor noble with bad reputation). Option B: Please the Alchemist (a source of unlimited wealth and pills).
It wasn't even a choice.
Ya Fei's frown dissolved into a charming, dangerous smile.
"Is that all?" she chuckled softly. "Consider it done, Mister. In fact, I also personally don't like him very much. The rumors say he is lazy and arrogant. After going from a 'cripple' to the genius Xiao Yan, the Xiao Clan has enough talent. Xiao Ning is just... a nobody."
She turned to the appraiser who was still waiting by the door.
"You heard the esteemed guest," Ya Fei ordered, her voice losing its warmth.
"When Xiao Ning comes to collect his earnings..." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "give him the minimum. Deduct a 'Processing Fee'. Deduct a 'Venue Tax'. Deduct a 'Late Registration Fee'."
"Give him... 50% of the value," she decided coldly. "Make him feel the squeeze. Let him know that in Wu Tan City, having money doesn't mean you have respect."
The appraiser sweated, but he bowed. "Understood, Manager."
Xiao Yan, hidden under the robe, smirked. It was a small, petty victory. But to his teenage heart, knowing that Yoriichi would be standing there confused and angry felt like justice.
Downstairs, Yoriichi watched the final item sell, completely unaware that the political machinery of the auction house had just turned against him.