The woman on stage wore a gown of shimmering silver that seemed to drink the light, her smile a weapon that held the entire hall captive.

"I am Elara," she announced, her voice a melodic ripple that carried to every corner without effort.

"And today, we have treasures that will make even the kings of the outer continents weep with envy."

Damon leaned back in the plush chair of the VIP box, the one-way glass giving him a perfect view of the crowd below.

He could feel Mei’s amused gaze on his profile, and Lumina’s tense silence beside him.

’Elara. Not just a pretty face.’ The thought surfaced unbidden as he studied her.

He let his Incubus Celestial Eyes drift open, the golden patterns in his irises shifting almost imperceptibly as he scanned her from behind the one-way glass.

What he found was interesting. A King Spirit Realm cultivator, her aura wound tight and controlled, not a single thread of it bleeding outward.

They weren’t playing games here.

The first few items rolled by with all the excitement of a merchant reading inventory.

A set of Earth-Grade armour drew modest applause and sold for two hundred spirit stones to a heavyset man in the third row who barely looked up from his catalogue.

A vial of Phoenix Tears followed, its faint amber glow drawing a collective murmur from the floor before igniting a protracted bidding war between two red-faced representatives from rival alchemy clans.

Damon watched the whole spectacle with his chin resting lightly on two fingers, his expression settled into something that could charitably be described as patient and honestly was closer to bored.

His mind had already moved on, turning quietly over the one item on the list that had can’t leave his mind.

The broken sword was item seventeen.

"And now, a piece of history. Or perhaps a piece of someone’s imagination." Elara’s voice turned conspiratorial.

A attendant carried the black fragment onto the stage on a velvet pillow. It looked even more insignificant under the bright stage lights.

"Recovered from the depths of the Shattered Abyss. Scholars date its metallurgy to the Pre-Creation Era. Its function is unknown, its value... purely academic." She gave a playful shrug.

"Shall we start the bidding at five spirit stones? For the curious collector."

Silence hung in the hall for a long moment. A few scattered laughs.

"Five spirit stones." a gruff voice called from a lower box. Someone taking pity, or wanting a paperweight.

"Ten spirit stones." another voice, bored.

Damon waited. Let the disinterest settle.

"Fifteen spirit stones." he said, his voice calm. The privacy formation garbled his words into a neutral, genderless tone that echoed in the hall.

Mei glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. "What do you want from it? A souvenir?"

"I had my own reasons." Damon replied, keeping his eyes on the stage.

"Twenty spirit stones." the gruff voice countered.

"Twenty-five spirit stones." Damon said immediately, not letting a beat pass.

Another pause. The bidder seemed to consider whether it was worth the annoyance.

"Thirty spirit stones.."

"Thirty-five spirit stones." Damon said, his tone still casual, as if he were ordering tea.

The hall waited. Elara’s smile never wavered. "Going once... for the mysterious fragment of history..."

No other bid came.

"Sold! To the esteemed guest in box seven."

A soft chime sounded in their room. The steward by the door gave a slight bow.

"The item will be delivered to your room after the auction concludes, along with the bill."

Damon nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. Too easy.

"You just spent thirty-five spirit stones on a broken sword." Mei chuckled, shaking her head.

"The Sect Leader’s allowance is not for toys, boy~."

"Don’t worry i will pay with my own money." Damon said softly, his gaze already drifting back to the catalog.

The auction flowed on. Lot after lot of spiritual herbs, rare beast cores, and technique scrolls passed by.

Damon bid on nothing else, since he don’t have interest for anything else except the sword. now he just watching the show.

The Reventon family’s box was silent. Silas was likely still nursing his wrist.

Then, Item forty-two.

"The highlight for many of you." Elara purred, holding up a crystal vial. Inside, a pill swirled with nebulous, heaven-gray light.

"A Heaven-Grade Spiritual Roots Advancement Pill. This pill will make you spiritual roots to the next level and it have 90 percent purity. The starting bid is one thousand spirit stones."

The hall erupted into murmurs the moment Elara announced the pill.

"One thousand one hundred spirit stones!" a voice shouted from the floor.

"One thousand two hundred spirit stones!"

"One thousand five hundred spirit stones!"

The bids climbed fast, fueled by desperate patriarchs and ambitious young masters.

Damon watched the numbers rise, his golden eyes tracking the flickering projection above the stage.

’’This is the real reason we got sent here.’

"Three thousand spirit stones." a cold, familiar voice cut through the noise.

Alistair Reventon. His box was directly opposite theirs.

Mei let out a low, amused hum. "The old fox enters the hunt. Let me, the adult do the talking."

Mei leaned forward, her red lips curling. "Four thousand spirit stones," she called, her voice smooth and unconcerned.

A ripple went through the hall. The bid had just jumped a thousand.

Alistair’s cold gaze found their box through the one-way glass, as if he could sense them. "Four thousand five hundred spirit stones."

"Five thousand spirit stones," Mei countered immediately, tapping a fingernail on the armrest.

Damon watched the exchange, his face a mask of calm.

’The Sect Leader’s funds are deep, but this is getting expensive.’

He could feel Lumina stiffen beside him, her breath held.

"Five thousand five hundred spirit stones." Alistair’s voice was a blade.

"Six thousand spirit stones." Mei didn’t hesitate.

Silence stretched for three heartbeats. Elara’s smile was luminous. "The bid is six thousand spirit stones. Do I hear six thousand five hundred?"

The Reventon box was silent. Alistair had clearly reached his limit, or his patience.

"Sold! To our guest in box seven!"

Mei leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "See? Adult things."