2026-06-21 16:19:47
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Ch. 51
The elderly auctioneer’s hands were shaking so violently he could barely hold his wooden gavel. "The... the Grandmaster from the Heavenly Phoenix Clinic has bid eighty million dollars! Eighty million in liquid capital and strategic maritime logistics assets! Do I hear a counter? Going once—""Eighty-five million!!"Julian Sterling’s voice didn't just ring through the amphitheater; it shattered into a cracked, bleeding screech. He lunged over the stone railing of the VIP box, his torso practically hanging over the edge as he slammed both palms onto the cold masonry. His hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot, and a thin thread of dark fluid leaked from the corner of his swollen lip where his internal chest meridian had spatted."Julian, no!" Tiffany Vance screamed, her voice cracking in pure, visceral terror as she grabbed the back of his dark military coat. She dragged him back by a fraction, her face completely translucent beneath her black lace veil. "Eighty-five million?! That is everyt
Ch. 50
"A... a triple-veined Soul-Cleansing Pill... This is an artifact of the legendary echelons. It doesn't just renew the flesh; it purges ancestral defects from the meridian core..."Up in the high, crimson-curtained VIP box, Julian Sterling’s face had turned from a mottled purple to a sickly, translucent white. He leaned so far over the stone balcony that his chest pressed painfully against the iron railing. "No... No! That’s impossible! He’s a street dog! Where would he find the formula for a divine-grade pill?! Auctioneer! The Imperial Trade Exemption Seal is a macroeconomic asset! It grants your clan a fifty-year legal loophole! You cannot let a single piece of medicine override a territorial legacy!"Tiffany Vance stood frozen beside him, her fingers numbly catching the edge of her torn crimson gown. She wasn't listening to Julian's frantic screaming. Her eyes were locked onto the gold phoenix mask below.Calvin didn't look up at the balcony. Instead, beneath the sharp, elegant line
Ch. 49
The freezing mist rolling off the translucent petals of the authentic 1000-Year-Old Snow Lotus cascaded over the stage edge like a silent, ghostly waterfall, blanketing the front rows in a crisp, mountain-air frost. BANG! The auctioneer slammed his heavy wooden gavel against the bronze gong, the metallic echo vibrating through the obsidian columns. "The final lot is open! The untamed core of the southern ridges, a flora that can cleanse the marrow and renew the breath of a dying master. The Hermit Clan declares the baseline value: Five million dollars in raw material equivalent, or its matching spiritual worth! Let the market speak!" "Five million five hundred thousand!" a masked martial merchant from the eastern sectors roared, throwing his wooden bidding paddle into the air. "Three high-grade spiritual stones and a century-old iron ginseng!" "Six million!" an elder from a southern mercenary syndicate countered from the dark rows, his voice raspy. "Six million in refined gold bul
Ch. 48
The air deep beneath the Bacca Old Quarter was entirely different from the ozone-scented upper levels of the city. Down here, in the sprawling subterranean amphitheater known as the Shadow Pavilion, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of burning ambergris, old parchment, and the heavy, electric hum of ancient Qi-disruption arrays.Massive columns of uncut black obsidian supported the vaulted cavern ceiling, where thousands of low-burning tallow candles cast long, flickering shadows across the crowded arena. This was the sovereign territory of the Hermit Clan.Step. Step.Through the heavy iron archway of the main entrance, Calvin Hudson walked into the arena. He didn’t wear his signature corporate blazer tonight; instead, he wore a deep midnight-blue silk robe that billowed softly around his ankles, matching the exquisite, gold-leaf Venetian mask that concealed the upper half of his face. The mask’s design was sharp, mimicking the predatory eyes of a rising phoenix. Through the ey
Ch. 47
Tiffany stood by the desk, her crimson silk gown feeling like a shroud. She stared at the gold-trimmed paper, her hand trembling as she reached for it. "Not so fast, girl," the old man rasped, his bony, age-spotted hand slamming flat over the document before her fingers could touch the edge. He let out a wet, rattling cough that shook his frail frame, his cloud-filmed eyes narrowing into two sharp slits of ancient malice. "Grandfather Sterling?" Tiffany’s voice cracked, her throat tight with a wave of intense nausea. "We... we agreed on the terms. You signed it." "I signed a piece of paper, Tiffany," Old Master Sterling whispered, his breath smelling heavily of stale medicine and decay as he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. "But the Vance family hasn't earned it yet. Do you think ten million dollars from my private offshore reserve comes simply because you knelt by my knee and looked pretty?" "What more do you want from us?" Tiffany stepped back, her knuckles turning
Ch. 46
"You want me to do what?" Tiffany Vance’s voice rose to a shrill, hysterical pitch, echoing off the bare wooden walls. She stared at her parents, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disgust. "He is eighty-two years old, Mother! Julian’s grandfather is a ruthless, senile tyrant!" "Do you think we have the luxury of choice, Tiffany?!" her mother, Victoria Vance, screamed back, her perfectly manicured hands shaking as she slammed a stack of red-stamped foreclosure notices onto the empty desk. "Look at these! The Hudson Medical Trust has frozen our assets, our real estate, even our personal bank accounts! By tomorrow morning, the guards will throw us out onto the street like common beggars!" "Your mother is right, Tiffany," her father, Richard Vance, groaned, slumped in a corner chair with a glass of cheap whiskey. His face was pale and hollow. "The Sterling family still controls the secondary pharmaceutical reserves in the outer sectors. If Old Master Sterling signs a line of cr
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