Zeraya’s heart skipped multiple beats on seeing the empty stone, a cold lurch in her chest. Vonn’s shoulders slightly deflated and he sighed, the sound small and defeated. He never expected Ragnar to win, but how could the very first stone which got cut open be empty? It felt like a verdict. Ragnar himself stood there, unbothered, watching impassively, as if the laughter were rain on a roof he didn’t own. “He talked a big game. Who knew he was the father of incompetence?”“Didn’t he claim his master was legendary? Did he get taught to be a failure?”“Not even a low grade jade?”Briggs scoffed, stylishly touching his nose to hide the sneer playing around his lips. “Please be kind. He’s way too young, and doesn’t understand the business. It’s perfectly reasonable for him to pick a defect.”Ragnar chuckled, eyes glacial, winter at midnight. “Idiots.”The soft mocking smirk on Briggs’ face faltered. He did hear Ragnar’s low insult, and it stabbed, sharp and brutal, straight through the

One last stone to go. Thane exhaled, the breath shuddering out of him. The quality so far wasn’t too bad. This should be enough to pull through. His fingers ached from being clenched. “The quality of the two piles appear similar. So who’s the winner?”The same question was in the minds of other people. All the jades exposed were of a higher grade. It was truly too hard to determine the winner. The crowd was split, buzzing, uncertain. “I think the one chosen by Eagle Eyes has the higher quality. It’s clear, and shiny. There’s no visible splotch nor calcite veins on his own.”“I disagree with you. The boy’s jades are of a higher quality. His jades all have powerful spirits and energy embedded in them. Rare treasures martial practitioners would kill for. It’s full of spirituality with high grade purity. If I’m the one buying, I will go for his.”“I think it’s too early to speculate. Average quality is what’s being judged. If the last stone in his hands is a trash grade jadeite, it woul

Everywhere went silent. Even the wind slowed down, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Zeraya’s gaze sharpened. She tapped a button on her watch, and a faint blue pulse answered. “How’s that possible?” Vonn shouted, still bound by spirit restraints. The hope and excitement in his eyes had died out long ago, replaced by something colder. This was bigotry in its purest form, and they weren’t even bothering to hide it. Ragnar chuckled, the sound low and cutting. “Since your eyesight’s that bad, why didn’t you retire with honor instead of coming here to disgrace yourself?” Old James’ face darkened, fury taking root in the lines of his skin. The crowd that had jeered with Ragnar moments ago began to turn, scenting blood in the water. “What’s wrong with this boy? He’s so arrogant.” “Master James is a renowned appraiser, yet he won’t even give him face.” Ragnar smiled and stepped forward, boots scraping against stone. “I’ve learned everything about spirit jades. I can

Zerath’s face turned glacial, a creepy smile spreading across his lips like frost over a blade. “Miss Tempest, you’ve broken the alliance agreement by coming here to hurt a member of Red Earth.” A guard hurried to help Briggs up. Briggs’ face was burning with humiliation, unable to believe that a sixteen-year-old girl could beat him, a Profound Realm master, like a dog without even breaking a sweat. His eyes were filled with hatred as he glared at Ragnar. He couldn’t do anything about Vireille, the little monster. But with this so-called young master who seemed to have zero cultivation, there were many ways to handle him. Many ways to make him scream. “When did the alliance support allied forces to sell fake stones?” Vireille asked, checking her nails for non-existent dirt, boredom sharpened into a weapon. Zerath’s lips curved wickedly, something deadly and cunning flashing in his eyes. “Slander is a very big crime. I hope you can stand tall when it’s time to pay.” Vireille

Ragnar turned to look at the man who had just entered. The sword light and killing intent wrapped around Zerath dimmed immediately, as if a storm had been told to sit. Zerath turned too, sheathing his blade with a snap, and offered the man a military salute, spine straight, eyes forward. The man was dressed in plain trousers and a T-shirt. But the materials were rare and expensive, woven from storm-silk and dragon-cotton, the kind that stopped knives as well as looks. On his wrist was a bracelet depicting a hammer crossing a sword, made of pure spirit platinum and inlaid with golden spirit jade. The insignia of a man who didn’t need to shout. His height stood out, broad and unhurried, and he appeared easygoing. But no one dared to breathe loudly. Even a child knew exactly who he was. He was a regular face on Vaelon’s military news. One of the top three generals of Vaelon’s Federation Army. Cassian Goldspierg. The Iron Wall of the North. Briggs quickly stepped back, blood drainin