A long, narrow box appeared atop the pedestal. Dark wood. Sealed. Formation lines glowed faintly along its edges.
Something inside pulsed—soft, rhythmic.
Alive.
The fox's eyes narrowed slightly.
Interesting.
"Contained within…"
The auctioneer's voice lowered, drawing the room in.
"…a preserved spirit core."
A ripple spread through the hall—not loud, but sharp.
Because this—
this was different.
"Golden Core realm."
Silence.
True silence this time.
Even Shen Tu froze.
"…Golden Core…"
His voice barely existed.
The fox didn't react outwardly, but her ears flicked once.
That—
that was valuable.
Not in the casual sense.
In the dangerous sense.
The auctioneer continued smoothly.
"Refined. Stabilized. Suitable for absorption, forging, or high-grade pill refinement."
Her smile deepened slightly.
"Opening bid… five thousand mid-grade spirit stones."
No one spoke. Not immediately.
Because this wasn't something you bought lightly.
This was something you planned around.
Something you killed for.
Beside her, Little White paused mid-drink—for the first time in a while.
His golden eyes slid toward the box.
Focused.
The fox noticed. Of course she did.
Her voice slipped through the link, quiet.
*You want that.*
No denial.
Just a small pause.
The silence held—tight, measured—eyes fixed on the long, sealed box.
Even the air in the hall felt heavier now.
Then, quietly, the fox's voice returned.
*That's not a true Golden Core.*
A pause.
*Half-step at best.*
Her gaze remained steady on the pedestal, sharp and assessing.
*Incomplete condensation… the pulse isn't stable enough.*
She tilted her head slightly.
*Still valuable.*
A faint curl touched her lips.
*Just… not as valuable as they want it to seem.*
Beside her, Little White didn't look away from the box.
Didn't deny it either.
The fox's eyes flicked to him briefly—catching that stillness, that focus.
Her smile deepened a fraction.
*But for you…*
A beat.
*It's more than enough, isn't it?*
The lizard finally moved—just slightly.
The wine jar lowered.
"…Mm."
Noncommittal.
But not dismissive.
The fox huffed softly through her nose, then let her gaze drift back to the hall—
where the silence was beginning to crack.
Because five thousand—
for something this close to a true Golden Core—
was already bait.
Her thoughts shifted again. Calm. Precise.
*And the lots increased…*
Her ears flicked once.
*There were twelve scheduled.*
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
*Now there are more.*
A small pause.
Then—
understanding.
Her lips curved.
*Of course.*
She leaned back slightly, composed.
*Because of what I introduced.*
Movement art. Body refinement. Blade technique. Soul tempering. Spirit tools.
She had raised the temperature of the room.
Raised expectations.
Raised spending thresholds.
And the auction house—
adapted.
Shen Tu swallowed beside her.
"My Lady…"
"…that core…"
He didn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Because everyone in the hall was thinking the same thing:
That thing could change a fate.
Below, the auctioneer finally spoke again.
"Five thousand…"
"Do I hear fifty-five hundred?"
And this time—
the answer came immediately.
"Six thousand."
A deep voice, from the upper tiers.
No hesitation.
The fox's eyes gleamed faintly.
There it was.
The difference.
This wasn't like the previous lots.
This wasn't greed.
This was need.
Beside her, Little White's tail coiled slightly tighter.
Subtle.
But she felt it.
The fox's smile sharpened.
*Careful now…*
Because unlike before—
this wasn't a game she could push recklessly.
Not without consequences.
The number **six thousand** still echoed faintly across the hall—
but inside the alcove,
a completely different battle had begun.
The fox didn't look at the pedestal anymore.
Didn't look at the bidders.
Her attention snapped sideways,
locking entirely onto the lizard.
Because his voice had just slipped through the link—
calm,
steady.
*Win it.*
A pause.
*I'll give you my silk webbing after I break through.*
Silence.
Then, slowly,
a wide, toothy grin spread across the fox's muzzle.
Her turquoise eyes gleamed—
bright,
sharp.
*You better not go back on that.*
Her voice was smooth,
but already calculating.
*But first… let's make this clear.*
She leaned slightly toward him.
*How many bundles?*
The lizard didn't hesitate.
*Three.*
A beat.
*Plus the one I owe you.*
*Four.*
The fox's smile didn't fade—
but it changed.
Sharpened.
*Four?*
A soft huff escaped her.
*That's not enough.*
Her tail flicked once.
*I need ten.*
The lizard finally turned his head—
slowly,
golden eyes settling on her.
Blank.
"…Then forget it."
And just like that,
he went back to drinking.
The fox froze.
Her grin cracked.
"…Wait."
A beat.
"…Wait, wait, wait—what are you talking about?"
No answer.
The lizard tilted the jar,
drank,
and ignored her completely.
The fox leaned closer,
eyes narrowing.
*Don't act like you're not listening.*
Nothing.
Not even a glance.
Her ears twitched sharply.
*Ten is fair.*
Her voice sharpened.
*Do you know how many thousands of spirit stones I'm about to spend?*
Still nothing.
The lizard drank—
calm,
detached.
The fox's eye twitched.
"…You little—"
She stopped herself—
barely.
Then forced her tone down.
*Fine.*
A breath.
*Eight.*
Silence.
The lizard didn't even acknowledge it.
The fox stared at him—
long,
hard.
Her tail flicked again,
faster this time.
*You're doing this on purpose.*
Nothing.
Her voice dropped, irritation bleeding through.
*Little White.*
Still no response.
"…Alright."
Her grin returned—
but thinner now,
strained.
*Seven.*
A beat.
*Seven bundles.*
Her eyes locked onto him.
*If you don't agree—*
A pause.
*Then forget it.*
Silence.
The lizard drank.
Didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Didn't care.
The fox's smile vanished completely.
"…You're actually ignoring me."
Her ears flattened slightly.
*You're actually ignoring me.*
Still nothing.
Her irritation spiked—
clean,
sharp.
*Fine.*
Her gaze snapped forward again, back toward the auction floor—
but her thoughts were no longer calm.
*Annoying lizard.*
*Acting like he doesn't need this.*
Below, the auctioneer's voice continued faintly—
bids climbing,
pressure rising—
but inside the alcove,
the fox was no longer smiling.
Because somehow,
negotiating with him
was more frustrating than the entire auction combined.
The bids below continued to climb—
voices layering over each other now,
less restrained,
more urgent.
"Six thousand five hundred."
"Seven thousand."
The number landed—
and stayed.
No immediate response.
Because this wasn't like before.
This wasn't posturing.
This was commitment.
The fox heard it,
registered it—
but her focus was still split.
Half on the pedestal.