The vine lantern swayed gently from the ceiling of the grand hall, its threads of gold and green weaving patterns through the air like breathing light. A thousand murmurs filled the vast chamber, rolling like distant thunder beneath the dome of blue jade.
The Auction Master, an elderly man in robes trimmed with sunstone, raised his staff. Its embedded bell gave a single, clear ring.
"The preliminary auction," he declared, "for the people of the land–shall begin."
The crowd erupted. Traders, cultivators, wandering alchemists, and small sect disciples cheered in eager excitement. The preliminary phase was more than just a tradition–it was the auction's promise that no class or rank was above fairness. Even the greatest auction in the Eastern Province must first serve the commoner before the crown.
Rows of items floated above the crystal dais:
two hundred fifty Soul-Enhancing Pills,
eighty Blood-Marrow Cleansing Essences,
and eight sets of mid-grade armors, shining faintly in aura light.
The hall pulsed with energy as bidders shouted their offers. Each sold out twenty five soul enhancing pills as set, ten Bone-Marrow cleansing essences and armors one by one per turn. Spirit jades changed hands like flowing rivers. The Auction Master smiled faintly; it was a ritual he had seen a thousand times–desperation cloaked as ambition.
An hour later, the final bid of the preliminary session ended. The Master struck his staff again, and the bell's hum vibrated through the foundation of the hall.
"The introductory phase concludes!"
The vine lantern's glow expanded, and golden waves spread through every corridor. At once, the Halo Premise activated.
In a single breath, the false identities and disguised spectators were expelled–illusions shattered, commoners vanished, leaving behind only silence and shimmering dust.
The remaining participants were the true elites–sect disciples, noble heirs, and royal emissaries from the Four Kingdoms. The Halo Premise shimmered again, and every private chamber was veiled in translucent mist.
From that moment onward, the rules shifted.
Each voice was distorted into the same mechanical tone–neither male nor female.
Each bid would be marked only by a red flash in the chamber's autumn-leaf green lantern.
When a deal was finalized, the red turned to gold, announcing victory to all yet revealing none. But the condition was bidder has to put the right bid amount in the green crystal bowl placed in their room's central table.
Green bowl measures the count and then red color of lantern glows golden light. If amount is low, the half of the amount placed in the green bowl vanishes from the room and collected by auction as repayment for hindering valuable time.
The bidding began again.
Now, mid-tier weapons, armors, gloves, and cultivation pills were placed before the crowd–items fit for inner disciples and wealthy sect scions. The air filled with rhythmic callouts:
"Four million!"
"Four point six!"
"Five million and ten beast cores!"
The voices were strange, identical–hollow echoes of greed and pride resonating through the misted space. Each family's lantern flickered in rapid succession, their lights flashing red and gold like dueling stars.
Around forty rare items sold by now.
From his private balcony, Kiaria leaned slightly forward. "So this is how the wealthy fight," he murmured.
The Princess, resting her chin on her palm, smiled faintly. "Not fight, little brother. They dance with gold. Those who can't afford the rhythm–fall out of tune."
The Auction Master, watching from below, clapped twice. "Honored guests, the first half of the Grand Auction concludes. The second half begins shortly."
A new sound rang–a deeper chime, unlike the earlier bell.
Instantly, the Halo Premise shimmered and folded away.
The Master raised his hand. "Royal families, your patience honors us. You all know the rules–every auction must respect the order of the realm. The first half belongs to the people; the second half, to the kings."
"Honored royal families," he said with a bow, "the hour is yours. The first half of the auction concludes. Henceforth, only the noble families and imperial sects shall remain. Those who've finished your business–please pay your rent and step through the exit portals. We thank you for your patronage."
A hundred beams of light flared across the hall as teleportation gates opened. One by one, minor sects and merchants vanished, their laughter fading into silence. What remained were the true powers of the realm–the bloodlines of kings, saints, and masters.
The Halo Premise dimmed, and the master turned toward them. "Distinguished guests, please follow me."
He tapped his flute gently against his staff. A circle of silver runes spread across the marble floor, swirling into a massive portal. The air smelled faintly of thunder and iron.
"Do not touch the walls," he warned. "Stay close, or risk being lost in the fold between spaces."
One after another, the guests stepped into the light.
The transition was instant–and violent.
A burning sensation sliced through their nerves. The air was dense, not with heat but pressure, the weight of a thousand souls bound within a single realm. The moment they emerged, gasps filled the crowd.
The space around them was vast and unearthly. The walls shimmered black, reflecting the faint glow of scattered blue crystals that floated freely, like stars adrift in the void. It was as if they stood in a galaxy of silent fire.
"Welcome," the auction master's voice rang out, echoing softly, "to the Spatial Domain of the Pseudo-Eye Artifact."
He raised his flute and played a slow, haunting melody. With each note, the floating crystals rearranged themselves, forming constellations in the air. The melody quickened, then fell silent. From the crystal map, a path of starlight unfolded across the darkness.
"Please proceed," the auction master said, bowing low. "I cannot accompany you further. The path will guide you to your destination. Stray from it, and even I cannot find you."
The nobles stepped forward first–sect leaders and royal heirs moving with solemn caution. Behind them followed the East Valley Wing Mercenaries, Diala's fox cub perched quietly on her shoulder.
They walked for what felt like hours through the mirrored void until they reached a gate made of shimmering glass. Beyond it stood the Inner Auction Hall, glowing faintly red. The door exuded a metallic scent–blood.
The crowd paused. Even the most seasoned warriors felt their skin crawl.
A cloaked man bearing a Golden VIP sigil stepped forward. The door recognized him; it opened with a thunderous hum.
"Pseudo-Eye recognizes authority," whispered the Princess. "We're entering the true core."
Inside, another portal shimmered into existence. One by one, they entered–vanishing into individual, sealed domains crafted by the artifact itself.
Each chamber floated in isolation, surrounded by mirrored walls that reflected starlight but hid all life beyond.
In these rooms, no eyes could see, no voices could be traced. Only the bidding mattered.
A moment of quiet followed. Then, a voice–not human, but woven from energy–resonated through the rooms.
[The Grand Auction–Inner Phase–begins.]
A pillar of pale flame rose from the hall's center, illuminating an altar of white stone. From it, a single bloom emerged–its petals translucent as glass, pulsing with faint crimson veins.
[First Item: The Soul-Amity Flower. Estimated age–two millennia. Starting bid–fifty million spirit jades and twenty mid-grade General Beast Cores.]
The name alone stirred whispers across the invisible chambers.
"The Amity Flower?" a noble's artificial voice echoed. "A myth. No one even knows its use."
"Two millennia old? Still worthless if it can't be refined."
But Kiaria's expression changed the moment it appeared. His heartbeat quickened. "No… it can't be…"
The Princess turned, amused. "What's wrong, little brother? Do you want that flower?"
Kiaria nodded slightly. "Yes. I must have it." His voice carried quiet conviction, not greed. "It's connected to something I've been seeking."
Her smile softened. "So serious… very well. Leave it to me."
Princess leaned forward from the seat–closer to the white orb–raised hand on it. "Sixty million spirit jades, twenty-five General Beast Cores."
[Current bid: Sixty million spirit jades, twenty-five General Beast Cores.]
The number echoed across the mirrored walls. The auction had truly begun–and with it, the silent eyes of every hidden bidder turned toward the mysterious youth whose calm had shaken princes and patriarchs alike.