Even until the very end, Wang Lin veiled the truth, his words dancing around the core of the matter like fireflies.

The more elusive he became, the more Ouyang Long’s curiosity blossomed into a profound sense of mystery. This unassuming youth in white seemed wreathed in secrets.

Reluctant to press, Ouyang Long chuckled ruefully and abandoned the subject. With a respectful bow, he instead reminded, “Friend, the law of this private auction deems the veiling of one’s true face a grave offense.” Finishing his words, he strode to a stone door at the passage’s end and rapped upon it gently.

Moments later, the stone vibrated, its surface rippling with an ethereal haze, as if the stone itself was melting into nothingness. Turning back with a final bow, Ouyang Long stepped into the swirling mists and vanished.

Wang Lin paused, his brow furrowed in thought. He had dared to come, and he would not cower behind a mask. With a decisive step, he followed Ouyang Long into the swirling void.

A flash of disorientation, and then clarity. Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings. He found himself in a chamber of perhaps a score of paces across. The floor was crafted from a substance utterly transparent, offering a dizzying view of a monstrous struggle far below on a colossal stone platform. Two beasts of nightmare locked in mortal combat.

Scattered about the room were several seats, all facing a single chair at the forefront. Seven figures, unmasked, sat in placid expectation, their gazes snapping to Wang Lin as he entered.

Their eyes were like drawn swords, sharp and penetrating. They pierced Wang Lin’s flesh, sending a chill through his very being. One amongst them briefly betrayed a flicker of surprise, but swiftly regained composure, offering a courteous nod.

Dominating the room, seated in the foremost chair, was an aged man. His silver hair cascaded to his shoulders, and his eyes, though seemingly closed, betrayed glimpses of keen intelligence. His face was etched with the authority of a powerful mage, his cultivation reaching the realm of Shattered Nirvana. Beside him, Ouyang Long stood respectfully, whispering into the elder’s ear.

Wang Lin, unfazed by their scrutiny, strode forward. He chose a seat, settled into it with deliberate calm, and returned the nod of the familiar face with a slight bow. His own gaze was steady as he took in the others.

Wu Qing had not expected to see Wang Lin again. His presence at such an exclusive auction elevated his image significantly in Wu Qing’s eyes.

Wang Lin’s discerning gaze drifted over the others. Apart from the silver-haired elder, Ouyang Long’s mentor, and Wu Qing, the remaining five were all at the initial stages of Shattered Nirvana.

Directly across from him sat a scholar-like youth. His skin was pale, and a feathered fan flicked languidly in his hand. His expression was inscrutable, but when Wang Lin met his eye, the scholar offered a slight smile, his gaze tinged with curiosity.

Beside him lounged a woman adorned in floral silk. Her beauty was undeniable, her movements languid. Her eyes flickered over Wang Lin before dismissing him.

Not far off sat a man with a face scarred with pits and craters, a visage both unsettling and cruel. His eyes gleamed with avarice as he incessantly twisted a ring on his right index finger. Wang Lin cataloged these three before turning his attention to the final two.

To Wang Lin’s left sat a gaunt and withered man. His skin clung tightly to his bones, stretched across his skull. His thin lips were tight, like the beak of a carrion bird. In his claw-like hand, he held two orbs, each the size of a child’s fist. With each movement of his hand, the two orbs clacked together, making an unpleasant noise.

The last was an old crone, her white hair as thin as dandelion fluff. Her skin was stretched tight over her skull, a web of deep wrinkles criss-crossing her face. She sat unmoving, garbed in a simple green robe. When Wang Lin looked her way, she met his gaze with the intensity of lightning.

This gathering was clearly an exclusive affair for the masters of Shattered Nirvana. To be invited was a testament to one’s power. Wang Lin knew that only by crippling those three thugs in the market, coupled with his impending purchase, had earned him a seat.

And even then, he knew he would be seen as among the least influential members of the gathering.

Ouyang Long finished speaking to the elder and stood beside him, radiating deference.

The old mage, Cang Songzi, cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping over the assembled company. “Welcome, friends. As always, there will be a bit of sport before the trading commences.”

Ouyang Long presented six jade slips, each inscribed with the lore of a hundred monstrous beasts.

“A Swordsmane! I shall wager on it,” cackled the crater-faced mage, altering the jade slip and tossing it to Ouyang Long.

Wang Lin scanned the jade slip. His experience with such creatures was limited. He could, however, appreciate the value of the information.

“The Azure Wings will do,” he said, and sent his jade slip with the others.

Cang Songzi chuckled. “Then let’s see whose eyes prove the sharpest. To the trading. I have three items for sale, and await your offers.” With a wave, three beams of crystal light emerged from thin air, revealing an iridescent sword, a cracked shard of armor, and a black pill.

“The first is a Blood Crystal Blade, forged in the blood of a thousand Rank Eight beasts. The sword itself was blessed by Tao Yezi. The venom in its blade is particularly potent, harming not just the body but the soul itself.”

“Tao Yezi blessed it?” said the woman adorned in floral silk. The Blood Crystal Blade leaped into her outstretched hand. After a cursory examination, she released it, the sword floating once more in the air.

“This shard holds the memory of a technique. Unfortunately, it is too broken for practical use. The final item… well, that is up to you.”

Aside from Wang Lin and the green crone, the four others summoned the three items. The woman claimed the blade, the price negotiated in whispers.

Wang Lin called to him the shard. He focused on the material, which seemed like bone, but wasn’t quite.

The youth with the fan held the black pill to his nose. “Cang Songzi, I’ll offer five hundred Spirit Jade.”

“Times one hundred,” said Cang Songzi.

The youth, after a pause, swallowed his protests and waved the pill into his robe. He nodded at Cang Songzi, completing the transaction.

Cang Songzi smiled, and then looked at Wang Lin. “And what about you, friend? Does this shard interest you?”

Wang Lin looked up, and then feigned indecision. “I have no use for it. I just like such curiosities. I offer one hundred Spirit Jade.”

Cang Songzi waved his hand. “I originally did not want to sell this. I just wanted to see if anyone could recognize what it is. But since you like it so much, consider it a gift.”

Wang Lin thanked him, and took the shard.

“I misjudged that pill.” The skeletal man holding the two orbs spoke. “Now, let’s get on with things.”

With a wave, he unveiled a red feather, and a bubble within which struggled a snarling beast. One half of the creature was reptilian, the other a writhing fog.

The room went silent. All eyes focused on the two items. Wang Lin stared at the feather, his heart nearly leaping from his chest.

“The first is a rumored Suzaku feather. The fires it emanates are quite potent. As for the second, I need not say anything. A half-vaporized Rank Twelve soul. My requirements are simple. Anything that catches my eye.”

“Too bad it’s only half vaporized…” said Wu Qing with a sigh.

“Do you think I would try to sell a fully vaporized soul?” replied the skeletal man.