Soraya's voice cuts through the hall. "Fifty."
From the box of the Light Peacock Clan, another voice follows. "Sixty."
The two continue to raise the price, each increasing by ten high-grade spirit stones.
Kaelan quietly counts the numbers in his mind. High-grade spirit stones—each worth ten thousand of the low-grade ones. By that scale, his entire fortune amounts to barely three. Aside from the minor items auctioned at the start, he couldn't afford to bid on anything near the level of the Light Lotus.
Next time I come here, I won't just watch, he thinks. I'll buy something worth my time. But for that, I'll need to earn real spirit stones.
The Wuya Agency earns him money, but most of it comes in mortal gold or low-grade spirit stones—enough to buy only first-grade low-level materials. Spiritual resources, after all, are ranked low, mid, and high, and each rank is divided into grades one through three. Above them lie the divine materials, the kind only legends or saints possess.
He turns his gaze toward Soraya. Her hand trembles slightly, fingers digging into her palm as she calls, "One hundred and ten."
Inside the Light Peacock Clan's box sits a woman named Serina, her iridescent feathers glimmering faintly beneath her pale blue robe. Beside her reclines Lareth, his silver eyes calm and calculating.
Serina opens her mouth to bid again—but Lareth's hand lands gently on her arm. She pauses, glancing at him with hesitation.
"Remember why we were sent by the clan head," Lareth says, his tone calm but edged with warning.
Serina frowns. "But if Soraya gets the Light Lotus, she'll heal her injury—and her cultivation might even rise again."
"The clan head needs the Thousand-Year Light Pearl to extend his lifespan," Lareth replies without emotion.
As the auctioneer's clear voice echoes, "One hundred and ten high-grade spirit stones—once," Serina bites her lip.
"If she heals, she'll challenge me again," she says quietly.
Lareth's eyes remain fixed on the stage. "That's only if she survives long enough to use it."
Serina lets out a low, bitter laugh. "You're truly ruthless. Wasn't Soraya once your lover?"
"...And three," the auctioneer's voice rings out. "The Light Lotus belongs to room number seven."
Lareth exhales softly. "No need to test me. The moment I struck her before the competition for you to win, whatever we had ended."
Inside room seven, Kaelan gazes at the radiant Light Lotus as it's carried away. The glow of its petals fills the room with a faint golden hue. For the first time, he witnesses a true high-level spiritual plant—alive with divine brilliance and far beyond anything he has ever touched. Even the black fruit he once ate from the ancient battlefield ruin was only a mid-level spiritual material.
He immediately notices the difference—the Light Lotus's spiritual energy is completely sealed within, not leaking into the air like low-level materials.
Soraya takes out a small bottle from inside her mouth and hands it to the woman delivering the lotus. Every demon keeps their treasures stored in their stomachs; their vast inner space and perfect control over bodily functions prevent the stomach acid from harming what lies within. When they shift into human form, their bodies shrink, and so do the items they carry.
The bottle Soraya holds contains Earth-Mother Liquid—a grade-three, mid-level spiritual material. Each drop is worth ten high-level spirit stones.
"There are twelve drops of Earth-Mother Liquid," Soraya says calmly. "Take eleven and return the last drop to the auction."
The woman nods. "Understood, Miss Soraya." She accepts the bottle, then turns and leaves the room.
Soraya swallows the Light Lotus in one smooth motion. Kaelan watches silently.
The auction resumes. Moments later, a faint ripple of power spreads through the hall—subtle yet potent enough to pull Kaelan's gaze toward Soraya. Murmurs stir among the crowd below.
The auctioneer's voice rises above the noise. "Everyone may guess it. The treasure bestowed by the Night God himself, nurtured from his divine blood—Night Blood Grass!"
Kaelan's eyes lock on the dark, faintly glowing herb. He feels an irresistible pull from it—the seamless fusion of the Law of Night and the Law of Wood.
A disdainful voice scoffs, "It's damaged."
The murmur turns into uproar, guests accusing the Red Swan Clan of selling a broken treasure. The auctioneer quickly raises a hand, calm but firm. "Even incomplete, its essence remains. Supplement it with lesser materials, and it can still be refined into a pill that extends life."
The commotion fades, replaced by eager bidding. In the end, the Black Tiger Clan secures the grass for eighty-five high-level spirit stones.
One by one, more treasures follow—Soraya's Earth-Mother Liquid sold for fourteen stones, the Thousand-Year Water Clam's Pearl, a high-grade spiritual sword, and countless refined artefacts.
Watching each item go, Kaelan's mind drifts. How can I earn enough to compete in this world?
He recalls something. There are no spatial rings or storage bags in this realm. If I can learn refining, he thinks, I could create them myself. His bloodline holds traces of the Void Monster—its essence intertwined with the Law of Void, a branch of the Great Law of Space.
With that power, I can comprehend this world's space laws… and forge the first true spatial treasure. Once I do, spirit stones will never be a problem again.
With that thought simmering at the back of his mind, Kaelan turns his attention to the stage as the auctioneer's clear voice rings out. "Now, we begin the auction for the final three treasures of tonight."
She claps once, and a woman steps forward carrying a tray veiled beneath a crimson cloth. With a deliberate motion, the auctioneer lifts the cover, revealing a lump of dark, metallic ore. Its surface glints faintly under the spirit lights, yet there's nothing outwardly special about it.
Whispers ripple through the hall.
"This ore," the auctioneer announces, "was discovered within the Immortal Volcano. Even its eternal flames could not melt it."
The crowd stirs, voices rising in disbelief. The Immortal Volcano has burned since the dawn of the world, and even divine metals are said to melt in its lava. To claim that something survived within it seems impossible.
Then a calm, confident voice breaks through the noise. "If the story is true, it is still worthless to us now."
The auctioneer's smile tightens. "Who dares to make such a claim?"
The voice answers, unhurried. "My humble name is Han Peng."
Kaelan's head turns sharply toward the speaker—a human man standing tall in the crowd, his aura steady but unthreatening. Kaelan's eyes narrow in disbelief. A human dares speak like that here? In a hall filled with demons stronger than him?
Yet to his surprise, no one attacks. Instead, several powerful demons from the private rooms send respectful greetings, their tones polite, almost reverent.
Kaelan glances at Soraya, who notices his confusion and leans slightly toward him. "Han Peng is one of the five beings in the world capable of refining divine weapons," she whispers. "Even the arrogant gods treat him with respect."
On stage, the auctioneer forces a smile—stiff, but courteous. "Divine Refiner Han Peng, we respect you, but you shouldn't belittle the unknown."
Han Peng lets out a short sneer. "Belittle? I merely spoke the truth. A metal that cannot be melted even by the Immortal Volcano cannot be forged or refined into anything. Such a thing is worthless."
The auctioneer's voice sharpens, but she keeps her tone polite. "Perhaps that is true for now. But the future holds endless possibilities. If, someday, it can be refined, then the weapon born from it would surpass all divine treasures that exist today."
A ripple passes through the audience—low murmurs of agreement spreading among the gathered demons. Even Han Peng's brows twitch faintly before he sits down, expression dark.
Moments later, the bidding begins. The strange ore is soon claimed by a guest in private room twelve.
The auctioneer gestures again, and attendants carry out the next treasure—a thousand-year Light Pearl, radiating pure brilliance that fills the hall like moonlight on water. The bidding war is fierce, but the Three-Eyed Lion Clan wins in the end, their triumphant roars echoing across the auction hall.
Then comes the final item.
The auctioneer lifts the cover, revealing not metal, nor gem, but a heart. It beats faintly, pulsing with divine rhythm. Yet even from afar, Kaelan senses it isn't natural—it's a refined spiritual construct.
Soraya's eyes narrow. "So the Twilight Protoss were the ones who commissioned it."
The auctioneer's voice grows solemn. "Many have heard the rumours of the treasure that once drew the wrath of heaven—the Heavenly Heart, forged by the Divine Puppet Sect."
Kaelan glances at Soraya. She meets his gaze and says quietly, "That heart is the reason the Divine Puppet Sect was annihilated by the Twilight Protoss five hundred years ago."
Kaelan's tone drops to a whisper. "Then why auction it now? The Twilight shouldn't expose it."
Soraya's expression hardens. "There's only one reason."
Their eyes meet. "It's bait."
Even as the words leave their lips, a deafening crash erupts beside them. From private room six, a massive wooden arm bursts through the wall, reaching for the Heavenly Heart.
In an instant, two Twilight Protoss shatter their own barrier and descend, divine light blazing as they strike the invading hand.
The hall explodes into chaos as the fight begins.