Crimson Phoenix Dynasty, Year 847
The first thing Tian Feng realized as he walked down the stone steps into the hidden chamber was that the underground auction hall was badly ventilated. The air was trapped, like it had been breathing the same air for decades.
The smell of torches fixed into iron hooks along the walls, were unpleasant, mixed with incense drifted through the chamber but failed to cover the damp scent of cave stone, sweat, and every bad smell one could think of.
Someone nearby had smoked tobacco earlier, and someone else clearly hadn't taken a bath in a long time. He ignored all of this nauseating smells, focusing on what he had to do in this place.
His second thought was to mark every exit, remembering every face, and watch everybody, especially the ones pretending to be harmless. This was a habit he planted in himself for a long time.
He stood leaning against the wall in the back. From there, he could see the entire hall clearly.
The crowd attending tonight's auction looked exactly as he remembered, the rich merchants, killers, and a few figures that came from demonic sects.
But Tian Feng endured it without any reaction shown on his face.
The gray robes he was wearing this time were intentionally plain, not to draw the eye, and his long black hair was neatly folded inside the servant's hat.
In his previous life, he had learned that being noticed in places like this rarely ended well, and most of the time, it ended with a corpse.
His eyes scanned the hall calmly as the crowd settled down while his mind drifted to what had happened in this hall in a different timeline.
In his previous life, he had come to this auction driven only by curiosity, watching the final item change hands, judged it interesting but dangerous, and walked away.
That single choice to remain passive had been one of many small mistakes that eventually led the world toward destruction, the Great Sundering, five years later.
In this timeline, he wasn't here by accident, it was planned.
The corner of his eyes caught the movement in the raised platform at the front of the hall, and he recognized the thin fragile man. The man's hand kept drifting to his throat unconsciously, as was his habit when being nervous.
It was the auctioneer, Zhang Hu, once a respectable merchant, now reduced to black market dealings after his legitimate businesses collapsed.
In three months, his body would be found floating in the river with his throat cut cleanly.
Probably his death wasn't related to what 'would be happening' incident tonight, as the man had never lacked enemies.
"Honored guests," Zhang Hu started to speak, his voice could be heard clearly across the hall, despite his fragile looking body. "The standard inventory had concluded. What remains is the item you have all heard whispers about."
The low murmur of the crowd died down completely.
Tian Feng noticed that reactions, like a merchant two rows ahead, subtly shifted his seating position nervously. Or the woman dressed in fine silk opened her fan to hide her frown. Other three different people started to glance toward the exits openly.
They felt the fear, emitted by the last item that they hadn't laid eyes upon.
From the side passage, four monks emerged, and Tian Feng recognized the robes they were wearing as the Ironguard Temple's uniform.
The temple's goal wasn't particularly aimed at achieving enlightenment. They were one of the last sects still entrusted with protecting relics from before the current dynasty's rise.
All of them were large men, broad shouldered and solid, as their path demanded. They were carrying an object wrapped tightly in canvas with slow and cautious steps, as if they were unwillingly doing so.
When they placed it on the platform, the sound it made was far too heavy for its size. The stone beneath it cracked, with thin lines spreading outward.
Zhang Hu swallowed and cleared his throat. "The item presented tonight has been verified by three independent authorities. Its recorded history spans no less than four hundred years, possibly more."
He hesitated for a fraction of a breath, then continued, "Its ownership has changed hands on several occasions… violently."
The auctioneer gave the signal, and the monks pulled the canvas away.
Beneath it sat a small coffin, carved from black wood called Ironwood.
Tian Feng's breathing slowed. He had only seen Ironwood twice in his previous life. Once, displayed in the Ironguard Temple, shaped into a small ornamental box that had survived more than six hundred years without a single crack.
The second time, it had been used as the core pillar of a great sect's main hall, because no other material could withstand the pressure of their defensive formation.
And this coffin was made entirely of that wood. That fact alone made it worth more than every other item in the hall combined.
But the Ironwood wasn't truly the reason why the crowd was frightened. It was the things inside the coffin, wrapped by thick iron chains, each link as wide as a man's thumb.
Those chains were not decorations. They were restraints, because each single link was engraved with suppression seals, dozen upon dozens of them, faintly glowing under the lamplight.
Tian Feng leaned forward a little to see the seal patterns. The seal wasn't made of individual characters like the common ones.
This was the work of Master Xue Yun, a true genius of suppression formations, one of the very few in the last century who actually understood how to imprison objects that should never be allowed freedom.
Xue Yun had also gone mad fifteen years ago, slaughtered his entire sect, and vanished into the wilds.
The fact that Xue Yun himself had sealed this coffin meant whatever lay inside was beyond dangerous.
"The contents," Zhang Hu continued his narratives, "have not been removed for at least two hundred years. Every previous owner chose to leave the seals untouched. We are presenting the item exactly as it was found, with all original containment measures intact."
"What's inside?" A voice broke the silence from the crowd.
Zhang Hu's lips curved into a thin smile. "The records named them a pair of demonic swords." He paused briefly. "Some say they bestow terrifying power. Others claim they shatter the minds of those who wield them."
"Open it," someone demanded from the crowd. "Let us see what we're paying for."
"The seals~" Zhang Hu tried to dodge the question.
"~are meant to be broken eventually," another voice cut in. "Otherwise, why auction it at all?"
Zhang Hu turned to the monks, who exchanged glances. The oldest among them then gave him a shake of his head.
That brief and silent conversation didn't go unnoticed. Someone in the crowd laughed, and the other muttered something about cowardice.
Apparently, the fear caused by that item inside the coffin had thinned, replaced by impatient greed.
Tian Feng watched the shift in silence, as the crowd began to demand the same request one by one.
Zhang Hu exhaled slowly. "Very well. Let it be recorded that this was requested by the buyers, not proposed by the house."
The monks moved the coffin to open it.
However, removing the chains took far longer than it should have. The locks were ancient and each suppression seal had to be broken on its own, requiring precise hand signs and chants that resembled prayer.
The oldest monk's face grew pale, his sweat running down his temples.
The fourth seal shattered and the hall's temperature dropped significantly.
Tian Feng felt it too. The unnatural cold brushed against his skin, and his breath fogged faintly in front of him.
Around the hall, others noticed as well, yet their greedy expressions remained.
The twelfth seal broke and one of the oil lamps went out, even though there was no wind. Then another lamp died, followed by another.
By the time the monks reached the final seal, barely half of the lamps remained lit. The hall felt creepier now, as the shadows pooled unnaturally in the corners, as if trying to get away from the thing inside the coffin as far as possible.
The hands of the oldest monk paused when he held the last lock, his face was like a ghost now.
"Finish it," Zhang Hu said, though his voice clearly showed he was afraid.
The monk looked at him for a moment, then back at the coffin, lamenting for quite some time until the crowds went shouting.
"Open it now!"
Finally, he made his choice and the final seal broke.
For a moment, nothing happened. But then the coffin lid began to rise on its own slowly, as if guided by invisible force from within.
The instant it fully opened, the atmosphere in the hall changed completely.