The grand hall of the Myriad Treasures Pavilion was designed in a semi-circle, capable of accommodating nearly a thousand people. The floor was carpeted with the crimson fur of magical beasts, which was not only luxurious but also served to absorb sound, ensuring that the packed hall did not become overly clamorous. In the very center stood an auction platform forged of white jade. Upon it stood an old man in brocade robes with snow-white hair and a long beard, smiling as he introduced each treasure.
Tran Kien sat in the most obscured corner, his tattered bamboo hat concealing most of his face. He paid no heed to the magical artifacts and medicinal pills being auctioned off for astronomical sums. His gaze, peeking through the narrow gap of his hat's brim, quietly observed the main actors of today's play.
In the central area, a massive man, as burly as a black bear, leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table. His demeanor was incredibly arrogant. He wore a sandy-yellow leather outfit and carried a massive, broad-bladed saber on his back. His mid-stage Foundation Establishment aura was entirely undisguised. He was none other than "Crazy Sand Saber" Manh Tam, the Gang Boss of the Crazy Sand Gang—one of the three great factions of the City of Chaos.
In another direction sat a woman wearing a blood-red silk dress. Her figure was enchanting and seductive, and a familiar silver fox mask covered her face. Although she had changed her attire, that frigid, deathly aura was unmistakable. The "Blood Demoness" of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion—the very same woman who had appeared in that fateful courtyard.
And in an opposite corner sat a group of men in black robes, silent and gloomy. Their leader, a skinny-faced man with triangular eyes, also emanated the aura of the early Foundation Establishment stage. These were the men of the Black Dragon Stronghold.
Three factions, three fierce tigers, all stalking the exact same prey.
Time slowly flowed by. A myriad of treasures were brought out and sold for shocking prices. Finally, after nearly two sichen (four hours), the old auctioneer gestured for silence.
"Fellow Daoists," his voice rang out. "Next is the penultimate item of today's auction. It is also the item everyone has been anticipating the most!"
Two burly guards worked together to carry up a profound iron box, heavily plastered with yellow sealing talismans.
The old man carefully tore off the talismans and opened the box. Instantly, an ancient, dense wave of killing intent and resentful aura rolled out from within, causing the temperature in the grand hall to visibly drop by several degrees.
Inside lay a palm-sized command medallion made of an unknown black wood. Carved into it with blood was the character "Sát" (Kill). The strokes were tyrannical and arrogant, seemingly capable of devouring the souls of those who looked upon it.
The Demon General Medallion!
The moment the medallion appeared, Manh Tam of the Crazy Sand Gang instantly sat up straight, the arrogance in his eyes replaced by undisguised greed. The Blood Demoness of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion also gave a slight shudder, her eyes shining brightly behind her mask. As for the men of the Black Dragon Stronghold, they clenched their fists, their killing intent no longer concealed.
"The Demon General Medallion, the relic left behind by the Blood Hand Demon General a century ago," the old auctioneer introduced. "Its uses need no further explanation from this old man. The starting bid is one thousand low-grade Spirit Stones! Each increment must be no less than one hundred!"
"One thousand one hundred!" Manh Tam was the first to bid, his voice booming like thunder.
"One thousand three hundred!" The Blood Demoness refused to be outdone. Her voice was sweet, yet it sent a chilling shiver down one's spine.
"One thousand five hundred!" The leader of the Black Dragon Stronghold called out coldly.
The bidding war was instantly pushed to a climax. The three factions continuously called out prices, none willing to yield an inch. The price was rapidly driven up to two thousand five hundred Spirit Stones—an astronomical sum sufficient to purchase a high-grade magical artifact.
In his hidden corner, Tran Kien remained motionless. He had no Spirit Stones, nor did he have any intention of participating. He was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment to sow the seeds of suspicion.
When the price reached three thousand Spirit Stones, and it seemed only the Crazy Sand Gang and the Phantom Shadow Pavilion were left locked in a stalemate, Tran Kien finally made his move.
He said nothing. He merely utilized his Primordial Chaos Qi, condensing it into an incomparably thin thread of spiritual energy that was impossible to detect. That thread silently flew out—not toward the auction platform, but toward a rogue cultivator sitting in a different row of seats.
That rogue cultivator looked exceedingly ordinary, his cultivation base merely at the Qi Condensation stage, currently watching the good show unfold with rapt attention.
Tran Kien's thread of spiritual energy gently tapped the back of the man's neck. The rogue cultivator only felt a slight prick, akin to a mosquito bite, and paid it no mind.
But he had no idea that a minuscule trace of Primordial Chaos Qi, carrying a strand of Tran Kien's will, had been planted straight into his meridians.
At this moment, on the platform, the Blood Demoness had just called out: "Three thousand five hundred!"
Just as Manh Tam was about to raise the bid again, the aforementioned rogue cultivator abruptly sprang to his feet. His eyes were glazed and lifeless as he bellowed at the top of his lungs, uttering a sentence that seemed completely out of nowhere:
"You dogs of the Black Dragon Stronghold secretly colluded with the Myriad Treasures Pavilion to swallow the Demon General Medallion all for yourselves! Do you take our Crazy Sand Gang and Phantom Shadow Pavilion for fools?!"
The clamorous grand hall instantly fell dead silent.
Every gaze shifted from shock to suspicion, and then zeroed in on the men of the Black Dragon Stronghold.
The leader of the Black Dragon Stronghold was dumbfounded. "You... what nonsense are you spewing?! Your father here doesn't even know who you are!"
Yet his explanation, in a place as rife with paranoia as the City of Chaos, sounded incredibly feeble.
Manh Tam of the Crazy Sand Gang immediately shot up, his tiger-like eyes glaring at the Black Dragon Stronghold, then at the old auctioneer. His gaze overflowed with fury. "Excellent! What an excellent play! No wonder you dogs gave up so easily! So there was a conspiracy going on behind our backs all along!"
The Blood Demoness of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion said nothing, but the chilling aura radiating from her body dropped by several degrees.
The old auctioneer's expression underwent a massive change. "Fellow Daoist, you cannot spout such drivel! Our Myriad Treasures Pavilion has always done business with the utmost integrity!"
But the rogue cultivator, right after roaring that sentence, suddenly coughed up a massive mouthful of fresh blood. He then collapsed heavily to the ground, his breathing ceased entirely.
His soul had been shattered from the inside out by Tran Kien's strand of Primordial Chaos Qi, leaving not a single trace behind.
Dead men tell no tales!
A single stone had stirred a thousand ripples. The seeds of suspicion had been firmly planted.
In his obscured corner, Tran Kien quietly took a sip of wine. Beneath the brim of his bamboo hat, the corners of his mouth curled up into a frigid smile.
The play... had only just begun.