The auction house remained stiflingly silent, the oppressive tension thickening the air after the black-robed middle-aged man had spoken. His harsh declaration still hung in the room like an uninvited storm, sending ripples of unease through the crowd.
The Spirit Fruit, a treasure that many had coveted, was slipping from the grasp of the gathered bidders, its fate now controlled by the overwhelming power of a single individual.
The beautiful female auctioneer, ever poised and professional, could no longer conceal her displeasure. Her brow furrowed deeply as she glanced over toward the figure in the shadows, the black-clad man who had delivered the crushing blow to the auction's excitement.
"Senior, you…" she hesitated, her voice taut with restraint, "This does not conform to the rules."
Her words, though measured, carried a weight of discomfort. She was an auctioneer of the prestigious City of Chaos Auction House, and her primary duty was to uphold the integrity of the event — to ensure that no one could unduly influence the proceedings. But with this man's oppressive presence, she had no choice but to speak.
Her words didn't go unnoticed, and the entire hall followed her gaze. It was clear now — the black-robed figure was the one who had stifled the bidding, squashing what could have been a fiercely contested auction and transforming a potential bidding war into a mere formality. What might have been an item fetching two or even three million gold coins was now sold for a paltry 1.1 million, thanks to his intervention.
A significant loss for the house. A glaring violation of the expected rules.
The black-robed man's lips curled into a thin, disdainful smile as he scoffed.
"Rules?" His voice was cold, dripping with contempt. "What rules? Did I stop them from bidding?"
The auctioneer's mouth opened to reply but faltered under the weight of his gaze. Her eyes briefly lowered, as if trying to find the right words but ultimately too aware of the power this man wielded.
"Besides," he continued, his voice smooth and laced with mockery, "even if I did break the rules, so what? Little fellow, do you have any objections?"
His gaze shifted past her, his eyes locking on a specific spot in the back of the room.
A chill ran through the crowd as a deferential voice rang out from the shadows of the hall.
"Haha, Senior is joking. This junior does not dare to have any objections."
The voice was respectful, perhaps even slightly fearful, yet it held a hint of politeness that suggested it came from someone of considerable standing.
The audience felt the shift immediately — the speaker must have been none other than the owner of the auction house himself.
A shiver ran through the crowd as they processed this revelation.
The owner of the City of Chaos Auction House was a powerful cultivator, one who stood at the peak of the seventh level of the Soul Condensation Realm. Yet even he, the man who commanded such influence and respect, had not dared to question the black-robed figure. Instead, he had addressed him as "Senior" without hesitation, and his tone had been laced with deference.
Could this man before them be an eighth-level Soul Condensation expert? Or was he something even greater? Perhaps a cultivator who had touched the fringes of the ninth level?
The guesses swirled through the crowd, and many felt a sense of helplessness, knowing that even their most powerful weapons and techniques would be no match for someone of such caliber.
But Xuan Yi, seated quietly amidst the crowd, remained composed, his sharp eyes catching the slightest movements. His perceptive senses told him everything he needed to know about the man's cultivation.
— Early ninth level of the Soul Condensation Realm.
A figure at that level was an unstoppable force in the City of Chaos, a powerhouse that could dominate without challenge. The black-robed man was no doubt a terrifying presence, and Xuan Yi couldn't help but appreciate the sheer audacity of his actions.
But while the power of this man was undeniable, it wasn't his strength that caught Xuan Yi's attention — it was the subtle tremor in the air. The unease that rippled through the hearts of others.
The ones who felt the deepest pangs of fear, however, were the Li family siblings.
Li Fei and Li Hao, who had been so filled with hope just moments before, now found their spirits crushed under the weight of despair. The Spirit Fruit, which had represented their last chance to save their father, was slipping away, beyond their reach.
"Sister… What should we do?" Li Hao's voice trembled, and his eyes were rimmed with tears. "Father is about to die… Without the Spirit Fruit, we… we can't save him."
Li Fei, whose usual composure had been her strength, now found herself on the edge of panic. Her hands clenched into fists, the pain of helplessness threatening to consume her.
But amid the rising tide of panic, she forced herself to remain calm. Her mind raced, her thoughts trying to find any way out of this situation. A decision began to form — desperate, but one she had no choice but to make.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, making her way toward the black-robed man. Without hesitation, she dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.
"Senior, my father's Divine Sense has been grievously injured. He urgently requires the Spirit Fruit to survive," she said, her voice a mix of desperation and determination. "We are willing to offer seven million gold coins—far above its value—to purchase the Spirit Fruit from you. Please, Senior, have mercy!"
Her words were a plea, her tone firm but laced with an undertone of urgency. Every eye in the hall was on her, watching, waiting for the black-robed man's response.
But the man's only reaction was a cold sneer, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
"Scram!"
The single word, sharp and final, cut through the room like a whip.
With a surge of spiritual pressure, Li Fei was sent flying backward, crashing violently into the rows of chairs. Blood spewed from her mouth, staining her pale face. The force of the blow was so overwhelming that even Li Hao and the Third Elder of the Li family stumbled backward, struggling to regain their balance, their faces twisted in pain.
The scene was one of utter humiliation.
The black-robed man's gaze flicked dismissively back to the auctioneer on the stage.
"What are you standing there for?" His voice was sharp, ordering the auctioneer to continue.
The woman, trembling slightly from the encounter, quickly regained her composure. With a nervous smile, she cleared her throat and resumed the auction as though nothing had happened.
"Yes, yes, yes..." she muttered under her breath, trying to steady herself. "Going once for 1.1 million gold coins… Going twice for 1.1 million gold coins… Going thrice—sold!"
She forced another smile, bowing deeply. "Congratulations, Senior, for winning the Spirit Fruit for 1.1 million gold coins."
The transaction was completed, but the air in the auction hall had irrevocably shifted. The black-robed man closed his eyes, a satisfied look spreading across his face as though he hadn't just wrought chaos in the room. He seemed completely unfazed by the destruction he had caused.
The auctioneer, desperate to regain control of the atmosphere, hurriedly moved on.
"Next up: the Sword Soul Grass. This rare herb, when consumed, offers a chance for the user to comprehend the embryonic form of Sword Intent. The starting bid is three hundred thousand gold coins."
At the mention of the Sword Soul Grass, Xuan Yi's eyes flickered with interest.
Though the herb wasn't of particular use to him, it was invaluable to his disciple, Gui Yiyi.
In recent days, he had continued to instruct her through voice transmission. Despite their limited time together, her progress had been nothing short of extraordinary. In just two short days, Gui Yiyi had laid a solid foundation in the Dao of the Sword, standing on the precipice of awakening the embryonic form of Sword Intent. All she needed was a catalyst — and the Sword Soul Grass might just be that catalyst.
Of course, much of her progress had been due to her own innate talent. But even more significantly, it was thanks to Xuan Yi's personal guidance, from a true master who had already comprehended Sword Intent himself.
However, once Gui Yiyi crossed that threshold, the journey ahead would be hers to walk alone.
As Xuan Yi prepared to place his bid, a familiar, unpleasant voice broke through the tension.
"Three hundred and ten thousand gold coins. I'll take the Sword Soul Grass."
It was the black-robed middle-aged man once again, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
Though he didn't unleash his spiritual pressure this time, the previous incident had left an indelible mark on the audience. No one dared to challenge him now.
Everyone else, who had initially been interested, lowered their gazes in defeat.
Just as it seemed the Sword Soul Grass was fated to fall into the black-robed man's hands, however, a calm voice pierced the silence.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand."
The bidding price rang out like thunder.
Gasps of disbelief rippled through the crowd.
Someone… had dared to bid higher!
The entire hall turned in unison to find the source.
A young man, dressed in white robes, sat calmly in his seat. His expression was serene, his demeanor indifferent — it was Xuan Yi.
The black-robed man's eyes snapped open, his face darkening.
"Who the hell are you? You dare—"
But before he could finish his sentence, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"You're nothing. How dare you behave arrogantly in front of this Sovereign!"
With a burst of energy, a crushing spiritual pressure erupted from Xuan Yi, filling the auction hall.
If the black-robed man's oppression had been like a still pond, Xuan Yi's force came like the raging flood of the Yellow River — unstoppable, unrelenting!
The entire auction house fell silent.
Every gaze locked onto Xuan Yi, wide-eyed and filled with awe.
Who exactly was this young man in white?