"One hundred and fifty Mid-Grade Spirit Stones, going once."
Ria waited with practised patience, her eyes moving across the hall.
Nothing came.
The hammer fell, and the Ancient Four-Star Defensive Array Plate transferred to the Iron Formation Alliance at a final price that represented a meaningful expenditure even for a faction of their standing.
Morgan watched the attendants lift the plate from the display stand, following it with his eyes until it disappeared through the side access corridor. He said nothing for a long moment, then turned back towards the stage.
"One day, our inheritance hall will produce formations that surpass even that."
He said it without bitterness, the observation carrying a particular quality—not consolation but a genuine forward assessment. He had already moved past it.
