Chapter 7
The Gilded Hook and the Fool's Debt
The tension in the VIP suite was thick enough to choke a Spirit-Severing cultivator. The mysterious woman, draped in her midnight silks, didn't just walk—she flowed toward Tian like a shadow claiming its prize.
"Tian," she murmured, her voice a dangerous mix of honey and ice. Before anyone could react, she moved with a speed that defied the eye, sliding onto the arm of Tian's chair. She reached out, her slender, jade-like fingers wrapping firmly around his hand. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you? Six months. You haven't visited for six whole months. I was waiting so anxiously that I could barely focus on the Pavilion's books."
Tian didn't pull away, but his voice remained as cool as a mountain spring behind his silver mask. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "Were you waiting for me, **Lady Mei**, or were you waiting for the Spirit-Condensing Pills I promised?"
Lady Mei, the undisputed mistress of the Heavenly Treasure Pavilion, let out a soft, theatrical pout. Her violet eyes shimmered with a playful light. "Well, business is business, of course. But that doesn't mean I wasn't longing for your company! Last time, I invited you to a private lunch and you refused me so coldly. My heart was practically shattered."
She tightened her grip on his hand, her smile turning sharp and predatory. "But this time, I won't take no for an answer. We *will* have lunch after the auction. It doesn't matter if you want to or not. I've already had the chefs prepare a feast of Rank 5 Spirit Beast meat."
On the other side of the chair, Rong's face had gone from pale to a deep, burning red. She felt a surge of possessiveness she didn't know she possessed. She reached out, grabbing Tian's other arm and pulling it toward her, her eyes flashing with defiance at the powerful woman.
"Tian," Rong interjected, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion. "Who is this lady? And why is she... clinging to you so shamelessly?"
Tian looked between the two women—one a powerful merchant queen, the other a sect leader fighting for her dignity. "Rong, this is Lady Mei. She owns this entire auction house. We have a long-standing business arrangement."
Lady Mei stood up, smoothing her dress with a graceful flick of her wrists. She glanced at Rong with the casual indifference one might show a small bird. "Business, yes. Among other things." She turned back to Tian, pointing a finger at his chest. "Give the pills to Steward Lin. And remember, Tian—if you try to slip away before our lunch this time, I will hunt you down and kill you myself."
With a playful wink and a swirl of her midnight robes, she vanished behind the curtain, leaving a scent of winter plum and a very frustrated Rong in her wake.
Outside the VIP room, the auction hall was reaching a fever pitch. The lower tiers were being packed with the elite of the continent.
Golden carriages pulled by flying lions landed at the docks. The leaders of the Great Sects arrived, their auras shaking the very air. Even the **Sixth Princess of the Wu Empire** made an appearance, her palatially decorated litter carried by sixteen high-cultivators. The commoners and smaller sect members stood in awe, bowing their heads as the true powerhouses of the world took their places in the upper balconies.
Amidst this sea of brilliance, a lone figure walked through the entrance. **Xia Ling**, the leader of a fallen sect, looked around with a weary heart. She approached the registration desk, hoping for a shred of respect.
The attendant didn't even look up from his ledger. He tossed a rusted iron token onto the counter. "Token #942. Sector C, the back rows. Move along."
Xia Ling felt a sting of humiliation. Sector C was the "common area," a place where hundreds of third-grade sect members were crammed together like cattle. She found her seat between a loud-mouthed elder from the 'Iron Fist School' and a group of rogue cultivators who smelled of cheap ale.
"Hey, look at this one," one of the rogue cultivators whispered, nudging his friend. "A beauty in the common seats? Must be from some bankrupt sect."
Xia Ling ignored them, her eyes searching the crowd. Her heart sank when she saw him.
**Ye Fan**, her Great Elder—the man who had promised to help her restore her sect—was several rows ahead. He wasn't even looking for her. Instead, he was leaning close to a young female disciple from another minor sect, whispering in her ear and making her giggle. He looked like a pampered noble, completely ignoring the responsibilities he owed to Xia Ling.
Suddenly, the lights in the hall dimmed. A pillar of brilliant white light hit the stage, and Lady Mei reappeared, her presence commanding the attention of every soul in the building.
"Welcome, honored guests, to the Grand Auction of the Wu Capital!" her voice rang out, amplified by a sound-transmitting array.
"Today, we have treasures that can change the fate of empires. Let us not waste time with idle chatter. Let the bidding begin!"
A pedestal rose from the floor, holding a jagged, crimson-colored saber. The air around the weapon seemed to hum with a bloodthirsty intent.
"The **Blood-Searing Blade**," Lady Mei announced. "A Rank 6 Earth-Grade weapon. It can double the power of any fire-based technique. Starting bid: 100,000 spirit stones!"
The hall exploded.
"200,000!" a man in gold robes shouted from the floor.
"300,000!"
"500,000!"
The price climbed rapidly as the minor sects fought for the chance to own a high-grade weapon. Then, a loud, arrogant voice cut through the noise.
"One million spirit stones!"
It was Ye Fan. He stood up, his chest puffed out, enjoying the shocked stares of those around him. Xia Ling watched from the back, her stomach turning. One million stones? That was a massive portion of their sect's remaining liquid assets.
The bidding didn't stop there. The "Gold Robed Man" pushed back. "Two million!"
Ye Fan didn't hesitate. "Four million!"
He was playing with money as if it were sand. The rogue cultivators around Xia Ling were whispering in awe. "Who is that guy? He's bidding like a prince!"
By the time the dust settled, Ye Fan had won the blade for a staggering **six million spirit stones**.
Steward Lin approached Ye Fan's seat, bowing politely. "Congratulations, sir. That will be six million stones for the Blood-Searing Blade. Will you be paying now?"
Ye Fan didn't even reach for his storage ring.
He simply gestured toward the back of the hall, where Xia Ling sat in the shadows.
"My 'Xia'er' over there will handle the payment," Ye Fan said with a casual, dismissive wave. "She keeps the purse strings for our little group."
Every eye in the hall turned toward Xia Ling. She felt a cold wave of shock wash over her. She stood up, her voice trembling. "Ye Fan... what are you saying? You bid for that weapon yourself. I never agreed to this!"
Ye Fan laughed, a loud, booming sound that made him look like a generous benefactor to everyone else. "Now, now, Xia'er, don't be stingy! I am the Great Elder of our sect. My strength is your strength. Isn't this technically my money anyway, given how much I've done for you? Pay the man. Don't embarrass us in front of the Princess."
The pressure was unbearable. The Steward was waiting. The crowd was starting to murmur about the "stingy sect leader." With tears of rage stinging her eyes, Xia Ling reached into her storage bag and handed over the sect's emergency funds—six million spirit stones, gone in an instant for a weapon she didn't even want.
Several more items passed—rare herbs, defensive talismans, and ancient scrolls.
Then, an old, battered book was brought out. Its cover was torn, the pages yellowed and moldy. It looked like something you would find in a trash heap.
"An unidentified manual found in an ancient ruin," Lady Mei said, her voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. "We cannot decipher the language, and it contains no spiritual energy. Starting bid: 5,000 spirit stones."
The hall was silent. No one wanted a piece of junk.
But in the common seats, Ye Fan's eyes suddenly lit up. On his finger, a plain bronze ring began to vibrate against his skin. Deep in his mind, the voice of an old man—a powerful soul residing within the ring—began to shout.
*"Boy! Buy that book! Now! Do not let anyone else see it! It is the 'Heaven-Devouring Scripture,' a lost technique from the Primordial Era! With this, you will become unstoppable!"*
Ye Fan's heart hammered against his ribs. He tried to keep his face calm. "5,000 stones," he called out, his voice cracking slightly.
Inside the VIP room, Tian leaned forward, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face. Through the one-way glass, he watched Ye Fan's desperate eyes.
"So, the 'Grandpa in the Ring' has finally spoken," Tian whispered to himself. "The moment where the 'hero' finds his greatest treasure in a pile of trash. It's a classic story, isn't it?"
Rong looked at him, confused. "Tian? You're interested in that old book? It looks worthless."
Tian's hand hovered over the VIP bidding console. "Oh, it's far from worthless, Rong. It's the key to Ye Fan's entire future."
He pressed a button, and his voice, distorted and deep, boomed through the entire auction hall.
**"Fifty million spirit stones."**
The hall went deathly silent. Ye Fan's face turned the color of ash. He looked up at the VIP box, his body shaking with a mixture of terror and rage.
Tian sat back, his eyes cold. *Not today, 'hero.' Today, you lose everything.*