The auction flowed on like a slow river after that.

Elara presented a set of Earth-Grade armor that shimmered like beetle shells, a scroll containing a King Spirit Realm movement technique, a live Frost-Scaled Serpent coiled in a crystalline prison.

Damon watched it all with zero interest, his mind already turning over the broken sword fragment he’d won and the staggering price Mei had just paid for the pill.

’Six thousand spirit stones.’

The Azure Dragon Sect was wealthy, but that was a king’s ransom for a single pill. The sect Leader had given them a deep purse, but Damon had assumed it was for multiple items.

Mei had spent it all in one go, without batting a bat.

He glanced at her. She was lounging in her plush chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking utterly bored as a minor noble family fought over the serpent.

Her deep purple eyes were half-lidded, her red lips set in a faint, amused line.

She looked like a cat that had already eaten the canary and was waiting for the next one to fly by.

Lumina, still disguised as Lark, sat rigidly beside him. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her own knees.

The sheer scale of the spending seemed to have locked her in place.

"And now, honored guests," Elara’s voice cut through the murmurs, taking on a new, richer tone.

"We come to our final offering. An item of such rarity it was not listed in your catalogs. This item is... mysterious, even to us."

A hush fell over the Great Solaris Auction House.

Two attendants carried a small pedestal onto the stage. On it, resting on a bed of black velvet, were two spheres.

They were not gems. They looked like pearls, but wrong. They drank the light.

The ambient glow from the formation-lit hall seemed to bend and vanish into their surfaces, leaving two perfect orbs of absolute darkness. They didn’t glitter or shine.

They were voids, small pockets of nothingness that made the air around them feel cold and thin.

"Twin Soul-Dark Pearls," Elara announced, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

"Forged in the heart of a collapsing shadow realm, it is said. For a cultivator with a dark affinity, they are a treasure beyond price. They can raise a dark affinity by an entire grade. The starting bid is ten thousand spirit stones."

The silence held for a single, suspended second.

Then chaos.

"Fifteen thousand!" a hooded figure in the shadows roared.

"Twenty thousand!"

"Thirty!"

The numbers exploded upward, voices overlapping in a frantic chorus.

Mei, who had looked bored moments before, sat up straight. Her predatory gleam returned, sharper than ever.

"Fifty thousand spirit stones," she called out, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife.

The bid had just doubled. The crowd gasped. The hooded figure snarled something unintelligible.

"Fifty-five thousand!" a woman’s voice, sharp and desperate, came from a box on the left.

"Seventy thousand," Mei replied, her tone conversational, as if discussing the weather.

Damon watched the numbers on the projection flicker and climb.

Seventy became eighty-five. Eighty-five became ninety.

The hooded figure dropped out, cursing. The sharp-voiced woman pushed it to ninety-five thousand.

"One hundred thousand spirit stones," Mei said, leaning forward slightly, her eyes fixed on the dark pearls.

A stunned quiet settled over the hall. One hundred thousand.

That was the kind of sum used to buy small cities, to fund armies. It was territory far beyond normal sect resources.

Then, from the Reventon box, Alistair’s cold voice rang out.

"One hundred twenty thousand."

He had entered the war.

Mei’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it grew.

"One hundred fifty thousand."

"One hundred eighty thousand."

"Two hundred thousand."

The bids volleyed back and forth, stripping away pretense. It was no longer about the pearls.

It was a display of power, a public contest between the mysterious woman from the Azure Dragon Sect and the Reventon family patriarch’s brother.

The numbers lost meaning, becoming abstract, monstrous figures.

Two hundred and fifty thousand. Three hundred thousand. Four hundred thousand.

Lumina made a small, choked sound next to Damon.

Her disguise was good, but he could see the panic in her eyes. She turned her head slightly toward him, and he could read the thought plain on her face.

’This is impossible.’

"Four hundred fifty thousand," Alistair’s voice was strained now, stripped of its earlier coolness.

"Four hundred eighty thousand," Mei countered, without hesitation.

"Five hundred thousand." Alistair’s final bid was a thunderclap. It echoed in the silent hall.

Elara, for the first time, looked genuinely awed. "The bid is five hundred thousand spirit stones. A historic offer. Going once..."

She paused, letting the weight of the number crush the room.

"Going twice..."

Mei Nightrider let the silence stretch to the breaking point.

She uncrossed her legs and stood up smoothly, stepping to the very edge of their VIP box as if addressing the entire assembly.

"One million spirit stones."

The words didn’t echo. They fell into the hall and snuffed out all sound, all breath.

Damon felt the air leave his own lungs. He saw Lumina jolt beside him, her hand flying to her mouth.

A collective, strangled gasp rose from the crowd, followed by a silence so complete he could hear the rustle of Elara’s gown on the stage.

One million.

The Azure Dragon Sect was powerful, one of the great sects of the Eastern Continent.

But its treasury did not hold that kind of money. That was the amount only royal family can use.

Elara was speechless for a long moment, her professional composure shattered.

"S-sold, to the guest on the box seven."

Mei sat back down, adjusting the hem of her qipao as if she’d just ordered a cup of tea.

The auction was over. The crowd began to erupt into frantic, disbelieving whispers, all eyes glued to their box.

But Damon wasn’t listening to them.

He was looking at Mei.

The Sect Leader, Hector, treated her with respect, with a cautious deference.

Damon had assumed it was because of her Saint Spirit Realm cultivation.

’But this... this was different.’

This was a woman who could casually use a fortune that would make a great sect like a beggar.

A woman who spoke to a sect leader not as a subordinate, but as an equal. Or perhaps, as a superior.

’Who are you really?’