Within the grand auction hall of the second tier, a crimson-robed man, his countenance hinting at decades weathered, held aloft an ebony box. With a flourish, he unveiled its contents: a waxen pellet, no larger than a babe’s clenched fist. It emanated no fragrant aura, appearing utterly unremarkable.

A murmur rippled through the assembled mages. Their eyes, seasoned by the arcane, recognized a treasure of exceeding rarity – a Grade Eight elixir. Yet, its potency was such that those lacking sufficient cultivation dared not ingest it, lest it become a deadly poison.

Unfit for consumption, possession itself was a perilous burden. Like a jewel in the grasp of a child, it invited ruin. Any sorcerer without the means to protect it would scarcely escape the city gates before facing a dire fate. Thus, despite the initial excitement, no bid was offered.

Younger mages, eager to display their prowess, were silenced by the stern glares of their elders. To them, the pellet was not a curative, but a death warrant! Whoever bought it signed away their own life.

Moreover, an air of suspicion clung to the offering. That such an elixir was offered by the Ran family was deeply unsettling. Did not their ancestor, a master of profound power, require such a potent draught? Why then, was it put up for auction? Such questions swirled, deterring any potential bidders.

Time trickled by. Still, the hall remained silent. The crimson-robed man betrayed no impatience. He had anticipated this outcome. The invitations had been carefully considered, the attendees deliberately chosen. The Ran family believed none present would dare bid on the elixir. And should any foolhardy soul prove them wrong, they would not hesitate to seize the pellet by force.

His gaze drifted to the private chambers on the fourth floor. Raising his voice, he declared, “Are there any bids? If not, this Grade Eight elixir shall remain within the vaults of the Treasure Pavilion.”

From his secluded perch, Wang Lin had observed the waxen pellet with a chilling intensity. A glint of cold calculation flickered in his eyes. He spoke, his tone deceptively casual: “A single Immortal Jade.” *If you seek to sell it to me, then I shall buy it.*

His words, though softly spoken, echoed through the hall, igniting a tempest of whispers. “A single Immortal Jade? Who is this madman?” “The starting price should be ten thousand! Such insolence! This must be unprecedented in the Treasure Pavilion.” “The Ran family backs this establishment. Such defiance invites a terrible wrath. He mocks the Treasure Pavilion and, by extension, the Ran family!” “The voice comes from the fourth tier. He who dwells there is no doubt powerful, yet he has earned the enmity of the Ran.”

The crimson-robed man visibly reeled. He was not of this city’s Treasure Pavilion, but had been sent from the Ran family’s ancestral home, charged with delivering the elixir to a specific buyer.

A wry smile twisted his lips. The intended recipient had indeed arrived and offered a bid, but the price! It was an insult, a blatant declaration of the auction’s true purpose. To accept such a paltry sum would reveal the deceit to all.

The Ran family’s honor would be tarnished. More importantly, it would signal fear.

That a Grade Eight elixir could be bought for a single Immortal Jade defied belief, and yet, to allow it to happen could unleash unimaginable consequences.

But to refuse was impossible. The ancestor had decreed: the elixir, once brought to auction, must be sold!

In a private chamber on the fourth floor, Sun Xi paused, his teacup hovering at his lips. A strange light flickered in his eyes. Setting down the cup, he sighed. “Brother Xu, I admire your audacity! Greatly!” His companion, Sun Qiming, stared in frozen silence, unable to utter a word. “To buy a Grade Eight elixir for a single Immortal Jade…”

Nor were they the only ones stunned. In the main hall below, a young man named Lu gaped in disbelief. The voice was familiar. It was the very youth he had barred from entering mere days before. Now, he was bidding a single Immortal Jade? Lu murmured, “He has lost his mind!”

Unnoticed by the throng, in a secluded room on the third floor, an aged, weathered mage shuddered violently upon hearing the voice. He abruptly looked up towards the fourth floor, his eyes burning with strange intensity.

“That… that cannot be his voice, and yet, my spirit trembles. In all my life, only Zeng Niu has left such an imprint upon my soul.” The old man brooded, then, after a long hesitation, sat back down, his gaze fixed on the floor, lost in thought. “My mark was severed when I left the Eastern Lands! Why… why does it still exist…”

The crimson-robed man in the hall swallowed hard. “Since there is but one bid,” he announced, his voice strained, “it is sold for one Immortal Jade!”

A cold smile touched Wang Lin’s lips. With a swift, invisible gesture, the waxen pellet was plucked from the red-robed man’s hand and drawn to him. He tossed down a single Immortal Jade, bowed towards Sun Xi, and turned to leave. The uproar behind him was dismissed with a thought. In a blink, he had crossed the threshold of the Treasure Pavilion. “A mere elixir cannot draw me into your game,” he muttered as he strode away.

Within the Treasure Pavilion, the old mage on the third floor grit his teeth. With a flash, he vanished.

Wang Lin, having reached a secluded alley, turned to face his pursuer. The old mage from the Treasure Pavilion stood a short distance behind him, his expression bewildered. He studied Wang Lin intently, a hint of confusion clouding his eyes.

Sensing Wang Lin’s gaze, the old man sighed, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, “Forgive me, friend. I mistook you for another. I meant no offense.” With a sorrowful shake of his head, he turned and walked away, his stooped figure radiating a deep melancholy.

“Sun Tai,” Wang Lin spoke softly, his voice carrying across the distance.

The old man stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around, his eyes fixed on Wang Lin, his face etched with astonishment. “You… it truly is you?”

Wang Lin scanned Sun Tai with his spiritual sense, a frown creasing his brow. “How could the ancestral magic of the Giant Demon Clan have brought you to this Rotian Starfield?”

Sun Tai gave a bitter smile, shaking his head. “I have pondered that very question for centuries. I do not understand it. The power of the Giant Demon Clan, as I understand it, is not so great.”

“The imprint upon your soul is faint. Why?” Wang Lin pressed.

Sun Tai paused, his gaze distant. “Do you know of a world called the Eastern Lands within this Rotian Starfield?”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed. Without allowing Sun Tai to continue, he swept forward, enveloping him in a gust of energy. In a heartbeat, they vanished from the alley, reappearing within Wang Lin’s manor north of the city. Wang Lin settled into a meditative pose, his eyes fixed on Sun Tai. “Now,” he said, “you may speak.”