Chapter 975: Auction Hall

The spirit boat descended through the cloud layers, the turbulence shaking the hull slightly before smoothing out as they entered the localized atmospheric array of Azure Cloud City.

The sight that greeted them was nothing short of magnificent. Azure Cloud City was not merely a settlement; it was a testament to the defiance of gravity and the pinnacle of formation arts in the Myriad Reefs Sea Domain. A colossal landmass, easily fifty miles across, floated suspended three thousand feet above the churning ocean. Massive chains of spirit-iron, each link the size of a house, anchored the floating island to the seabed miles below, though the true work was done by the humming anti-gravity arrays embedded in the city’s bedrock.

Waterfalls cascaded from the edges of the island, tumbling down into the void and turning into mist long before they hit the ocean surface, creating a perpetual ring of rainbows that crowned the city in multicolored light. Above, the sky was filled with traffic. Cultivators standing on flying swords zipped past like silver streaks, while massive, lumbering sky-whales pulled heavy cargo barges laden with ores and beast parts.

On the deck of their modest spirit boat, Wang Jian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his face adorned with a mask of polite, scholarly curiosity. He wore pristine white robes, a folding fan in his hand, radiating the aura of a Late-Stage Foundation Establishment elder—respectable, but not threatening.

A step ahead of him stood Hua Yimei. She had resumed her persona as the Sect Leader. Her heavy purple and gold ceremonial robes were fastened tight, hiding the lewd tattoos and piercings beneath layers of defensive silk. Her expression was imperious, her posture rigid with authority. To the outside world, she was the master, and Wang Jian was the servant.

“The docks are ahead,” Hua Yimei murmured, not turning her head. “Prepare yourself, Elder Wang.”

“Lead the way, Sect Leader,” Wang Jian replied, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

As they approached the designated docking bay for private vessels, a squad of aerial guards intercepted them. They rode on Gryphon-Beasts, majestic creatures with the heads of eagles and the bodies of lions, their feathers gleaming like steel. The captain of the guard, a burly man at the peak of Foundation Establishment, raised a spear.

“Halt!” the captain shouted, his voice amplified by Qi. “This is a restricted airspace. State your business and identity, and prepare the entrance fee of five hundred spirit stones!”

Wang Jian lowered his head deferentially, playing his part. He didn’t speak.

Hua Yimei stepped forward to the prow. She didn’t shout. She didn’t argue. She simply narrowed her eyes and released a fraction of her true power.

BOOM.

An invisible pressure wave rolled off the boat. It wasn’t just the pressure of a Middle-Stage Core Formation expert; it was infused with the scorching, noble heat of the Golden Phoenix Flame she had recently cultivated. The air around the boat instantly distorted, the temperature spiking by thirty degrees in a split second.

The Gryphons squawked in terror, flapping their wings frantically to retreat from the sudden heat. The captain’s mount bucked, nearly unseating him.

The captain’s face went pale as he stabilized his beast. He looked at the woman in purple robes, feeling the crushing weight on his soul.

“A… A Core Formation Senior!” he stammered, hurriedly lowering his spear and bowing in mid-air.

“I am Sect Leader Hua Yimei of the Fragrance Melody Sect,” Hua Yimei announced, her voice cool and regal, carrying effortlessly over the wind. “I am here for the Golden-Scale Auction.”

The captain broke into a cold sweat. In Azure Cloud City, while Core Formation experts weren’t unheard of, they were still royalty. To offend one was to invite death.

“Forgive my rudeness, Senior Hua!” the captain shouted, bowing so low his head touched his mount’s neck. “I did not recognize your esteemed presence! The entrance fee is naturally waived for a cultivator of your status. Please, proceed to the VIP docks on the upper tier. My men will escort you.”

“Lead on,” Hua Yimei commanded dismissively.

Wang Jian watched the interaction from behind her shoulder, fanning himself gently. ’Power really is the only currency that matters,’ he thought, enjoying the show. ’Yimei plays the imperious queen well. It makes breaking her in private all the sweeter.’

Guided by the guards, they docked at a private pier reserved for high-level guests. The walkway was paved with white jade, and the air was scented with artificial floral arrays.

As they stepped off the boat, the hustle and bustle of Azure Cloud City washed over them. It was a sensory overload. The streets were lined with shops selling everything from low-grade talismans to sea-beast cores. The crowd was a mix of rogue cultivators, sect disciples, and mortal merchants.

Wang Jian walked a respectful step behind Hua Yimei, his eyes scanning the crowd with a predator’s precision. He saw many women—some beautiful, some with decent cultivation—but none that sparked his interest. They were common sparrows. He was hunting phoenixes and swans.

“Find us an inn,” Wang Jian projected his voice directly into Hua Yimei’s mind, though his lips didn’t move. “The best one available. I don’t want to sleep in filth.”

Hua Yimei nodded imperceptibly. She stopped a passing attendant. “Where is the finest establishment for rest?”

“The Cloud-Ascending Pavilion, Senior,” the attendant answered eagerly. “It is located near the central plaza, floating on its own mini-island above the city proper.”

“We will go there,” she decided.

They navigated the city, eventually reaching the Cloud-Ascending Pavilion. It was indeed luxurious, a massive pagoda structure floating on a small chunk of rock tethered to the main city by golden chains.

Hua Yimei approached the reception. The manager, sensing her cultivation, rushed out personally.

“We require your best suite,” Hua Yimei demanded. “Privacy is paramount.”

“Of course, Sect Leader,” the manager bowed. “The Celestial Courtyard on the top floor is available. It has its own defensive array and a spirit-gathering formation equal to a sect’s core zone.”

“We will take it.”

Hua Yimei paid with a bag of high-grade spirit stones—wealth that technically belonged to the sect, but was now effectively Wang Jian’s.

They were escorted up. The suite was magnificent, featuring a private open-air garden, a hot spring pool fed by spiritual water, and a bedroom large enough to house a small army.

The moment the door closed and the attendants left, the dynamic shifted instantly.

“Chen Ying,” Wang Jian said, his voice dropping the polite facade. “Secure the perimeter. Activate the isolation arrays. I don’t want a single sound leaking out.”

“Yes, Master,” Chen Ying replied instantly. She moved to the array nodes in the room, inserting her own spirit stones and adjusting the frequencies to create a barrier that blocked all spiritual sense and sound.

As soon as the hum of the barrier stabilized, Wang Jian walked over to the main chair in the center of the sitting room. He sat down, spreading his legs wide and leaning back with a sigh.

“The mask is heavy,” he muttered.

Hua Yimei didn’t need to be told. She walked over to him, her movements shedding the stiffness of the Sect Leader. She knelt beside his chair and began to unfasten his boots.

“Chen Ying,” Wang Jian ordered without looking up. “Go out. Scout the auction schedule. Find out the exact time, the VIP arrangements, and who else has arrived in the city. I want a list of every major power present.”

“I will return within the hour, Master,” Chen Ying said. She bowed, then slipped out of the room, her presence fading into the shadows.

Wang Jian was left alone with Hua Yimei.

“Yimei,” he murmured.

“Yes, Master?” She looked up from his feet, her eyes submissive.

“I’m tense,” he said. “The journey was boring.”

Hua Yimei stood up. She moved behind the chair and began to massage his shoulders. Her hands, strong from cultivation yet soft, worked the muscles of his neck.

“Is this better, Master?” she whispered.

“It’s a start,” Wang Jian said. He reached up, grabbed her hand, and pulled her around. “But I prefer a different kind of pillow.”

He pulled her down onto his lap. Hua Yimei settled against him, her back resting against his chest. Wang Jian’s arms wrapped around her waist, his hands immediately moving up to cup her massive breasts through the thick ceremonial fabric.

“This armor of yours,” Wang Jian grumbled, his fingers digging into the silk. “It hides the best parts.”

“I… I can take it off, Master,” Hua Yimei offered breathlessly, her head falling back onto his shoulder.

“No,” Wang Jian smirked. “Not yet. I like the contrast. The Sect Leader on the outside…”

He deftly unbuttoned the top of her robe, sliding his hand inside the layers of silk and warm skin. He found her breast, heavy and soft. His fingers brushed the cold metal of the nipple ring he had pierced her with. He tugged it sharply.

“Ah!” Hua Yimei gasped, her hips jerking on his lap.

“…and the slut on the inside,” Wang Jian finished.

He plucked a spiritual grape from the bowl on the table and held it to her lips. “Eat.”

Hua Yimei opened her mouth and took the grape, chewing slowly.

“Feed me,” Wang Jian commanded.

She picked up a grape with her own mouth and turned her head. Wang Jian leaned in and took the fruit from her lips, his tongue pushing into her mouth to taste the juice and her saliva.

They stayed like that for an hour, Wang Jian lounging on the throne of her body, fondling her breasts and making her feed him, dismantling the dignity she had worn so carefully in the streets.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Wang Jian asked, pinching her nipple ring again.

“A little,” Hua Yimei admitted, shivering. “There are many powerful sects here. If they recognize the pills… if they question where we got them…”

“Let them question,” Wang Jian said arrogantly. He moved his hand down, sliding it under her heavy skirts, his fingers seeking the heat between her legs. “We have power. And we have something they don’t. We have the truth of alchemy. They are savages playing with mud balls. We are bringing them gold.”

He found her wetness—she was already soaking, conditioned by his touch.

“Besides,” Wang Jian whispered, sliding a finger inside her. “If anyone causes trouble… I will turn them into shadows. You just focus on looking regal, Sect Leader.”

“Yes… Master… ah…”

The next morning, the Golden-Scale Auction House opened its massive doors.

The building was an architectural marvel, shaped like a sprawling golden dragon coiled around a pagoda. It dominated the central plaza of Azure Cloud City. The line to enter stretched for blocks, filled with cultivators clamoring for a seat.

Wang Jian and Hua Yimei did not wait in line. They approached the VIP entrance.

But before the auction began, they had business.

They were ushered into a private appraisal room. The appraiser was an old man with a goatee, radiating the aura of an Early Core Formation expert. He looked bored.

“Fragrance Melody Sect,” the old man grunted, reading their file. “Sect Leader Hua. You wish to add items to the auction at the last minute? Unless it is a 500-year-old spirit herb or a Peak Earth-Grade artifact, don’t waste my time.”

Hua Yimei stood tall, Wang Jian standing silently behind her like a dutiful guard.

“I am not here to sell scrap, Elder,” Hua Yimei said coolly. She waved her hand, and ten jade bottles appeared on the table.

“These are pills,” she announced.

The old man sighed. “Pills? The market is flooded with…”

“Open one,” Hua Yimei cut him off.

Frowning, the appraiser picked up a bottle labeled ’Crimson Blood-Tempering Pill’. He popped the cork.

Immediately, a rich, herbal aroma filled the room. It smelled of life, of pure vitality. There was no metallic tang of beast cores, no chaotic residue.

The old man’s eyes widened. He tipped the pill onto his palm. It was blood-red, perfectly round, and glowed with a soft internal light. Three distinct cloud patterns swirled on its surface.

“This…” The old man’s hands trembled. “This purity… almost 98% purity? How is this possible? Beast core pills never exceed 70%!”

“This is not made from beast cores,” Hua Yimei stated, reciting the script Wang Jian had drilled into her. “My sect’s Grand Elder recently deciphered an ancient pill formula from a legacy site. These are refined purely from high-grade medicinal herbs. They are gentle, potent, and leave zero impurities in the body. They are suitable for Late Stage Foundation Establishment cultivators trying to break through to Core Formation.”

“Zero impurities…” the appraiser whispered. “That is… that is revolutionary.”

“We have fifty pills of this type,” Hua Yimei continued. “And fifty of the Spirit-Mending Jade Pill. And twenty of the Core-Stabilizing Golden Pill.”

The appraiser nearly dropped the bottle. “Core-Stabilizing pills?! For Core Formation experts?”

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” the old man said, his boredom vanished. “I must inform the Mistress. This… this changes the lineup.”

He rushed out.

Minutes later, a beautiful maid entered, bowing deeply.

“Sect Leader Hua,” the maid said respectfully. “Mistress Shangguan Wan’er sends her regards. She has personally verified the quality. She is shocked and delighted. She has ordered that your items be placed as the finale of the second act. Furthermore, she wishes to offer you a Purple-Gold VIP Card, granting a thirty percent discount on any purchases you make today.”

She handed over a heavy card made of purple metal.

Wang Jian, standing in the back, hid a smirk behind his fan. ’Hook, line, and sinker.’

They were escorted to a private box on the second floor. The box was shielded by a one-way visual screen, allowing them to see out but preventing anyone from seeing in. The interior was plush, with velvet couches and spirit fruits served on silver platters.

Below, the main hall was packed with thousands of cultivators. The noise was deafening until a gong sounded.

The auction began.

Items were brought out—rare ores, high-level beast cores, half-broken artifacts. The bidding was fierce.

Wang Jian sat on the couch, sipping wine, seemingly uninterested. Hua Yimei sat beside him, tense.

“Relax,” Wang Jian murmured, resting his hand on her knee. “We are the hunters here.”

Eventually, the pill recipes came up. Wang Jian ignored them. Mu Lianhua’s legacy was superior to anything these locals had.

Instead, when a jagged chunk of Star-Iron Meteorite appeared—a material crucial for upgrading his flying swords—Wang Jian nudged Yimei.

“Bid,” he ordered.

“Five thousand spirit stones!” Hua Yimei called out into the transmission array.

“Six thousand!” came a shout from the floor.

“Ten thousand,” Wang Jian commanded casually.

“Ten thousand!” Yimei repeated.

Silence fell. It was an outrageous price. They won the iron.

Next came a set of Five-Element Flood Dragon Formation Flags, a legacy from a dead formation master.

“Buy it,” Wang Jian said. “Lingshan will like it.”

They spent money like water. The wealth they were about to generate from the pills would cover it ten times over. The other VIP boxes buzzed with whispers, wondering who this “Sect Leader Hua” was and where she found such backing.

But Wang Jian’s attention began to drift. He extended his spiritual sense, carefully threading it through the gaps in the shielding of the other boxes. The Stellar Demonic Meridian Scripture gave his soul a stealthy, shadowy quality that was hard to detect.

He scanned the box directly across from them.

He felt it immediately. A wave of cold. Not just temperature, but an emotional coldness, sharp and pristine like a glacial peak.

“Ice attribute,” Wang Jian whispered. “And powerful.”

He pushed his senses a little harder, risking detection.

The silk curtain of the opposing box fluttered slightly as a servant entered. through the gap, Wang Jian caught a glimpse.

A woman sat there. She was dressed in robes of snowy white, embroidered with silver frost patterns. Her hair was the color of moonlight, falling straight to her waist. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, but it was the beauty of an ice sculpture—flawless, hard, and utterly unapproachable. Her eyes were pale blue, devoid of warmth.

Her aura fluctuated slightly. Middle Stage Core Formation. But dense. Extremely dense.

’Bing Yun,’ Wang Jian thought, recalling the intel. ’Elder of the Ice-Heart Palace.’

He felt a stir in his blood that had nothing to do with the auction. It was the thrill of a challenge. This woman looked like she had never smiled in her life. She looked like she would freeze a man’s blood if he touched her.

’I want to see her melt,’ Wang Jian decided instantly. ’I want to see those cold eyes roll back in pleasure. I want to see that pristine white robe stained with my mark.’

He formed a seal with his hand under his sleeve. A tiny mote of stellar light detached from his finger. It drifted across the hall, invisible to the naked eye, riding the air currents. It slipped through the gap in the curtain and attached itself to the hem of the silver-haired woman’s robe.

Stellar Tracer.

“I have her,” Wang Jian whispered.

“Master?” Hua Yimei asked, leaning in. “Did you see something?”

“I saw my next conquest,” Wang Jian grinned. “The auction is boring now. Let’s wait for the end.”

Three hours later, the auction concluded. The Fragrance Melody Sect’s pills had sold for an astronomical sum—nearly two million low-grade spirit stones. The entire hall was buzzing with the name of their sect.

As the crowd filed out, Wang Jian stood up.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We have an appointment.”

He timed their exit perfectly. Guided by the Stellar Tracer, he led Hua Yimei and Chen Ying down the VIP corridor just as the door to the opposing box opened.

The group from the Ice-Heart Palace emerged. There were four of them—three young disciples in white, and leading them, the silver-haired woman, Bing Yun.

Wang Jian signaled Yimei with a subtle tap on her back.

Hua Yimei, understanding her role, stepped forward, blocking the path slightly. She put on her most gracious, diplomatic smile.

“Sister Bing?” Hua Yimei called out.

Bing Yun stopped. She turned slowly, her movement fluid like running water. Her pale blue eyes landed on Hua Yimei, cold and assessing.

“Sect Leader Hua,” Bing Yun said. Her voice was like cracking ice—melodic but sharp. She didn’t bow. “It has been a long time.”

“It has,” Hua Yimei said warmly. “I saw the Ice-Heart Palace banner and hoped to pay my respects. Your sect won the Thousand-Year Snow Lotus, I see. Congratulations.”

Bing Yun’s expression didn’t change. “We pay for what we need. Unlike some, we do not rely on… sudden, unexplained windfalls.”

Her gaze flicked dismissively over Hua Yimei. “I heard the Fragrance Melody Sect was in ruins. That the Crimson Shark had blockaded your island. Yet here you are, spending money like a drunkard. Did you perhaps sell your disciples to a demonic sect to fund this excursion?”

The insult was precise and brutal. The young disciples behind Bing Yun snickered behind their hands.

Hua Yimei stiffened, her smile faltering. “Sister Bing, that is uncalled for. We faced challenges, yes, but we have overcome them.”

“Ruins remain ruins,” Bing Yun said, turning away. “A broken sect should focus on survival, not posturing.”

“Ruins can be rebuilt, Fairy Bing,” a smooth, masculine voice interrupted.

Bing Yun stopped. She turned back, her eyes narrowing.

Wang Jian stepped out from behind Hua Yimei. He snapped his folding fan shut with a sharp click. He smiled—a charming, confident smile that didn’t quite hide the danger in his eyes.

“Just as ice can melt,” Wang Jian finished softly.

Bing Yun stared at him. She scanned him with her spiritual sense. Late Stage Foundation Establishment. A nobody. And yet… the way he stood. The way he looked at her. It wasn’t the look of a junior. It was the look of a wolf assessing a deer.

She felt a strange shiver run down her spine—a sensation she hadn’t felt in decades. It was a threat warning.

“And who is this?” Bing Yun asked, her voice dropping a degree. “Your servant has a loose tongue, Sect Leader Hua. You should discipline him.”

“This is Elder Wang,” Hua Yimei said quickly, stepping slightly between them, instinctively protective. “He is… passionate about the sect.”

“Passion is a weakness,” Bing Yun stated. “It clouds the mind.”

She looked at Wang Jian one last time, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second too long on his dark eyes.

“We have business,” she said, dismissing them. “Do not block the path.”

She swept past them, her disciples following like ducklings. The air around her was chilly, leaving a frost on the floor where she walked.

Wang Jian watched her go. He watched the sway of her hips beneath the heavy robes. He watched the proud set of her shoulders.

“She is proud,” Wang Jian murmured, opening his fan again to hide his grin. “I like breaking proud women. The sound they make when they shatter is music.”

“She is powerful, Master,” Hua Yimei whispered, worried. “The Ice-Heart Arts make them resilient to illusions and mental attacks.”

“But not to fire,” Wang Jian said. “And not to lust.”

He turned to his companions.

“Chen Ying. Yimei. Let’s return to the inn.”

“Are we done for the day?” Chen Ying asked.

“No,” Wang Jian said, looking at the retreating silver figure of Bing Yun. “We are just waiting for the sun to go down.”

He tapped the spot on his chest where his Stellar Core hummed.

“Tonight,” Wang Jian whispered. “We hunt.”

Hua Yimei shivered, recognizing the tone. She looked at the back of the Ice-Heart Elder and felt a pang of sympathy. Another woman was about to fall into the abyss. And Hua Yimei knew, with absolute certainty, that by morning, the ice would be melted, and the proud Fairy Bing would be on her knees, just like the rest of them.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep