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Here, wearing a mask was equivalent to removing one's social facade for the nobility.
Along the way, they frequently encountered masked nobles groping their "female companions"—almost all of whom were auction house staff.
These women played along with coy smiles, but their eyes were hollow, devoid of life.
Their bodies lived on, but their hearts had long since died.
Even if "redeemed" by these nobles, they would only become playthings.
There would always come a day when their beauty faded, or when their owners grew bored—and by then, their fates would be far worse than remaining here.
Paimon glanced around, bewildered by the scene. To her, it all felt... off.
Everyone seemed happy, yet something wasn't right.
Zhongli paused occasionally, sighing softly before moving on.
These women were almost all from impoverished families—sold to the auction house due to hardship or misfortune.
Though treated as commodities, the auction house had raised them. The debt was twisted, but it had kept them alive.
As the God of Contracts, Zhongli briefly considered tearing apart this "agreement"—but ultimately refrained.
Without changing mindsets, saving them now would only delay the inevitable.
These women were beyond salvation. They had no skills beyond serving men and the powerful.
If "rescued" and left to their own devices, they would return within days.
"Xue Qinghe," noticing Zhongli's sigh, suddenly recalled a scene from the Battle of Jialing Pass.
"Though I seek not dominion, I cannot ignore the suffering of the people..."
"Could it be... that witnessing such plight is what shaped him into the Geo Archon?"
Qian Renxue frowned inwardly.
Her thoughts weren't unfounded.
Neither empire—nor even the Spirit Hall—cared about commoners without spirit master potential!
At best, the Spirit Hall treated them slightly better than the empires did.
At least they offered some hope.
Qian Renxue asked herself: Had she ever seen non-spirit masters as human?
Her focus had always been on geniuses and talent.
Without those, they were beneath her notice.
Though kind by nature, she too had disregarded the powerless.
"For the Geo Archon... should I change?"
She surveyed the auction hall—a place she'd visited only a handful of times.
The scenes here left a bitter taste.
The auction house was a goldmine for the Heaven Dou royalty. Each staff member represented at least 100,000 gold soul coins in profit!
What other venture yielded such returns?
The empire's military, officials, and royal family all required vast funding—much of which came from here.
Abolishing this system would cripple their finances.
Qian Renxue massaged her temples. These deep-rooted issues could only be addressed after her coronation.
For now, no amount of persuasion would sway Snowgrave.
The Geo Archon could intervene—but not as he had in her dreams. That would destroy everything.
"I must discuss this with him—the plight of the people!"
Her gaze lingered on Zhongli's profile. Even masked, his presence was magnetic.
Guided by the greeter, the trio soon arrived at a private booth.
Once inside, "Xue Qinghe" dismissed the woman with a wave.
Reluctantly, the greeter withdrew. This chance to serve had been hard-won—yet cut short so soon.
"Qinghe, what's the meaning of these black zones?"
Paimon had noticed earlier that the auction hall was divided into four sections.
The red zone held only one booth—reserved for someone of utmost importance.
The black zone had five or six booths, including the one they now occupied: Black Booth No. 1.
The purple zone had even more, while yellow and white zones consisted of open seating.
"Xue Qinghe" explained: Each color represented status and wealth.
Money alone could only secure a purple booth. Without rank or power, none would dare ascend further—such was the hierarchy.
As Crown Prince, her place was Black No. 1.
Only upon Snowgrave's death would she claim the sole red booth.
In the spirit master world, spirit ring colors dictated standing—even divine trials followed this order:
White (lowest), Yellow, Purple, Black, Red, Gold (highest).
"Ohhh!"
Paimon nodded sagely—until her attention was hijacked by the fruit platter on the table.
All further questions evaporated.
"Qinghe, can Paimon eat these?"
"Of course."
"You may even take some home."
Paimon's eyes sparkled.
Zhongli's eyelid twitched. No doubt these snacks would "mysteriously" vanish by evening.
Despite her size, Paimon's appetite defied physics.
Only Zhongli's sharp eyes had noticed: She'd grown.
When they first met, she'd been under 20 centimeters tall—now, she was noticeably larger.
All those Mora she'd eaten hadn't gone to waste.
"Without Paimon... the Traveler must be lonely."
Ah, well. Who could've predicted she'd cross worlds with him?
"Consultant, what are your thoughts on this auction house?"
With Paimon occupied, "Xue Qinghe" seized the chance to probe Zhongli's views.
"What's forbidden publicly in Heaven Dou thrives here."
"That said, the auction house's 'orphan care'—however warped—has done some good."
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 90 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 20 power stones I will publish the next chapter.