The sun had not yet broken the mist when the East Valley Wing Mercenaries prepared to leave camp. The air over the Grasslands was still, heavy with dew that shimmered faintly like scattered glass. Horses stamped and snorted, smoke from the breakfast fire coiling lazily above the tents.
Ellein tugged on his reins, riding beside Kiaria's chariot. "Hey, little brother," he called with a grin. "Ever been to an auction before?"
Kiaria shook his head. "No. I've heard of it, but never seen one."
"Then let me enlighten you," Ellein said, his tone brimming with excitement. "A grand auction isn't just a market–it's a battlefield of wealth and pride. The Four Kingdoms Auction is even more than that. It's where nobles buy fame, clans measure power, and strangers become either allies or enemies."
Kiaria smiled faintly. "So, a gathering of masks."
"Exactly!" Ellein laughed. "And we're going to wear ours proudly."
–
Three days from now, the Grand Auction of the Four Kingdoms would be held in the Central Capital of the Eastern Province. But as Staley reminded them, arriving late to an event like that meant being invisible. "We leave tomorrow at dawn," he ordered. "It takes five hours to reach the Central Plains. The earlier we arrive, the better we observe–and the fewer problems we meet."
The next morning came soft and grey. The mercenaries moved swiftly, rolling tents and fastening gear. Kiaria and Diala stood beside the chariot, dressed neatly–his robe simple but refined, her cloak trimmed with silver fur. The little fox cub rested on her shoulder, yawning.
Sheriff Staley joined them inside the chariot, reins in hand, while his horse trotted beside. "Kiaria," he said after a while, "have you heard of the Eastern Province's geography?"
Kiaria turned from the window. "Not much. Is there something unusual about it?"
Before Staley could answer, Diala chuckled lightly, stroking her fox. "There is. You'll find out soon enough."
The journey rolled onward under a rising sun. The vast expanse of the Grasslands slowly gave way to sloping earth and scattered stone ridges. The horizon ahead sank lower, as though the land itself bowed.
"The Central Plains," Staley said, pointing ahead, "is not like any other terrain. If the Grasslands are the crown, the Plains are the heart–and the heart sits low. The entire region is a vast concave bowl."
He drew a circle on the small assistor wooden table before him. "In ancient myth, two Immortals once fought here. One sought to hide his existence; the other, to drag him back to the Celestial Realm. Their battle carved this land–a pit so deep, its remnants still hum with immortal energy."
Kiaria listened carefully. "A battlefield of gods…"
"Exactly," Staley nodded. "The energy here is rich–perfect for cultivation. But mortals lack the spiritual root strong enough to absorb it. So, generations ago, it became a gathering site for those who tried and failed–merchants, alchemists, spirit miners. They built settlements to profit from others' attempts. That's how the Central Plains was born."
"So it's a city born from ambition," Diala murmured.
"Ambition and ruin," Staley added with a faint smile. "We'll rest at a tavern near the outer rim. It's safer there, and we can gather news before the auction begins."
–
By noon, they descended into the Plains. The air grew cooler, denser, fragrant with spiritual essence. Even breathing felt different–each inhale carried a tingle that brushed the soul.
They reached the tavern just as mist began to rise from the ground, soft and glowing under the sun. Rooms had been reserved through messenger days prior. Kiaria and Diala shared a small chamber on the upper floor; Staley took one next door; Ellein and Ferlin another opposite.
Kiaria rushed into the room. He was unwell.
Inside, the scent of aged wood and incense lingered. Kiaria sat cross-legged on the bed while Diala closed the door, setting her fox cub near it as guard.
Moments later, Kiaria felt it–a pulse within his sea of consciousness. The newlycondensedblood surged, stirring the still waters of his inner world. Nine drops formed, each glowed red brightly.
He steadied his breathing. The PrimordialSpirit within his consciousness reached out, drawing four drops toward four towering transparent pillars. The drops struck them like meteors. For hours, the pillars trembled but did not change.
Seven hours passed. The inn fell silent save for the faint hum of cultivation.
Then, without warning, the pillars cracked like glass. The fractures spread, then shattered into countless fragments. The pieces didn't vanish; they reformed–stronger, denser, etched with spiritual chains linking each to the next. Four pillars, four chains, forming a perfect square.
From beneath them rose a floatingplatform, which soon condensed into a disc. Chains latched to its sides, suspending it like a divine seat. The Primordial Spirit drove Kiaria's spiritual body–sat cross-legged upon it, hovering serenely.
A single drop of blood floated upward, falling upon the blood moon above. The moon and floating islands shattered, scattering into red shards, gradually emerged back to the formal Zhar Do Globe–gleaming and whole once again.
Outside the cultivation world, Diala opened her eyes briefly. The air in the room pulsed once–then went still. She sensed Kiaria deep in cultivation, didn't interrupt. The fox cub pawed at her leg, insisting she eat. She smiled faintly and obeyed.
Hours passed. The Zhar Do Globe trembled once more, shattering into countless shards. In its wake appeared a BloodMoon, and around it, floating islands began to rise again. From each island, rivers of scarlet flowed–but none fell. Instead, they bridged between the islands, forming veins of Blood Rivers.
The Primordial Spirit extended its hand. One drop fell into the spiritual sea below. The waters brightened, deepened, the reflections within transforming–Blood Moon turned White Full Moon,blood rivers to radiant rainbows, and the thick blood mist to gentle white clouds.
Three remaining drops glowed faintly, hovering in the air. One fell upon the sleeping fox cub, another upon the evolved Two-Headed Deer-Wolf Beast, and the last upon Diala herself. Each was sealed gently by the Primordial Spirit.
The spiritual rejuvenation ended.
When Kiaria finally opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded–Ellein, Ferlin, and Staley stood over him, each holding a wooden stick like a trio of angry elders.
Kiaria blinked. "Uh… brothers?"
"Half a day!" Ferlin barked. "You sat there half a day without eating!"
Ellein swung the stick threateningly. "Do you plan to die before the auction?"
Kiaria leapt from the bed and dashed for the door. The mercenaries chased him through the hall, laughter echoing behind. After half an hour of running, he was caught–and soundly "punished."
"You're banned from cultivation tomorrow!" Staley declared with mock sternness.
"Yes, Chief…" Kiaria groaned, rubbing his head.
–
Two days later.
Ellein burst into their room, knocking rapidly. "Wake up, you two! We've got a little journey today!"
Diala rubbed her eyes, yawning. "Brother Ellein… where are we going?"
"Oh, still half-asleep, eh?" he teased. "Fine, you stay and rest. We'll take Kiaria."
Her eyes widened. "No! I'm coming too!"
Kiaria smiled to himself. It's been two weeks since her father's death… this is the first time she's playful again.
Ferlin appeared at the door. "Come on, Kiaria. Let Fatty entertain her. I've something to ask you."
Before they could step out, Chief Staley approached. "No distractions today," he said firmly. "Take them both to the Grand Auction Hall. The auction begins at dusk. We move together."
–
The Central Plains' heart unfolded like a painting as they rode toward the capital. The sky shimmered faint gold, streaked with faint spiritual currents visible even to the naked eye. The deeper they went, the more vibrant the world became–flora tinged with light, rivers gleaming red at dusk, and floating motes of spiritual energy dancing in the air.
The Grand Auction Hall rose from the plains like a citadel carved from crystal and steel. Its tiers spiraled upward, every balcony draped in banners of four kingdoms. Inside, music of zithers and flutes intertwined with the low hum of conversations.
When Kiaria and the others arrived, a familiar voice called from above.
"Kiaria!"
He looked up. From the VIP chamber, a regal figure waved–Royal Princess, standing beside the royal brothers. At her side was Orman.
Orman leapt down lightly, landing before Kiaria. His expression brightened. "You're alive," Kiaria said, smiling. "The Halo of Life revived you, didn't it?"
Orman nodded. "Yes. We royal descendants have life remnants sealed within the Halo Chambers. Unless our bodies are destroyed, death is temporary."
Diala stiffened. Her hands clenched. The face she had once trusted was now the face tied to her father's death. Her eyes shimmered–anger and sorrow mixed.
"Stay away from me," she said coldly. "I don't want to see you."
The words struck Orman harder than any sword. He bowed slightly and stepped aside.
Princess descended the stairs with her six royal brothers, each greeting Kiaria warmly. "You've grown," she said with a proud smile. "Come, join us in the upper chamber."
Kiaria glanced back at his mercenary brothers, their rough faces faded. He smiled softly. "Thank you, Sister, but I'll stay with them."
Royal Princess blinked, then laughed. "Ah, so these are your family now?"
Kiaria nodded. "Yes. My brothers. And she–" he glanced at Diala "–she is..."
The Princess arched a brow. "Oh? So this is your girl?" She chuckled, waving it off. "Very well. You'll have your own chamber, then."
She led them through the grand hall, past nobles and sect leaders from distant kingdoms. Each carried the scent of ambition. "This," she said, sweeping her arm, "is the Four Kingdoms Auction. Every royal clan, every major house–each will compete for what's hidden behind those curtains. Try not to make enemies."
Kiaria smiled faintly. "No promises."
They took their seats just as a commotion stirred near the entrance. Three delegations had arrived–the Leiwis Family, flanked by the Grayis and Mirahs clans.
One of the Leiwis elders stopped mid-stride, his face twisting when he saw Kiaria. He pointed, trembling with rage.
"It's him! The boy who caused our Young Master's death!"
The hall's hum fell silent. Heads turned.
And once again, the ripples of fate began to spread.