The fox—still disguised as the young man—stepped across the threshold of the **Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion**, its movement fluid, measured, perfectly attuned to the orderly flow of the interior.
The moment it crossed inside, the noise of the streets fell away.
Not abruptly—but as if muted by design.
Within the pavilion, the air was calm, layered with faint, controlled currents of qi that flowed along prescribed paths. Shelves of spirit weapons gleamed beneath soft lantern light, their edges dulled by suppression seals. Rare cores floated within crystal cases, slow-turning, suspended by delicate formations. Counters of jade and silver lined the walls, every item meticulously arranged, each protected by minor seals meant less to repel force than to **discourage intent**.
Nothing here was accidental.
From the far end of the hall, a figure emerged.
She moved with silent grace, her steps barely brushing the polished floor. Her face was stark white—so pale it seemed almost luminous in the lantern glow. Porcelain-smooth. Lifeless. Like a beautifully crafted mask worn by something that did not truly belong among the living.
Her dark eyes were calm.
Too calm.
She stopped a few paces from the fox and inclined her head in a gesture that was polite, formal—and utterly devoid of warmth.
"Guest," she said, her voice soft and melodic, yet threaded with an undercurrent of authority that raised the fine hairs at the nape of the neck. "Welcome to the Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion. How may I assist you this evening?"
Beneath the illusion, the fox's tails twitched once.
Atop its head, the lizard—still invisible—shifted minutely. Its senses drank in the space: the faint pressure of high-grade artifacts, the disciplined flow of qi, and beneath it all, the unmistakable trace of **stored Yin** lingering around the woman herself.
"…We're here to acquire certain items," the fox replied smoothly, its voice calm, controlled—perfectly suited to the illusion of an unremarkable young man.
The woman's gaze sharpened, fixing fully on the fox.
"And what kind of items would those be?" she asked. Her tone remained courteous, but the question itself felt measured—tested for weight as much as meaning.
The fox tilted its head slightly.
"This night might cost one," it said slowly. "Two. Maybe even three hundred."
It paused, letting the words settle.
"But this night might cost **more**."
Silence followed.
Not the awkward kind—this was a practiced stillness. Nearby attendants shifted subtly, stepping half a pace back, senses alert. The air itself seemed to wait.
The woman studied the fox for a long moment.
Then she turned.
"Come with me, sir," she said simply.
No questions. No confirmation.
The fox followed, steps unhurried, posture relaxed.
As they walked, it lowered its voice into a **spirit transmission**, directed only to the lizard crouched invisibly above.
"You heard that?" the fox murmured.
The lizard's head tilted a fraction.
"That was a code," the fox continued. "She's taking us where we actually need to go. Stay invisible. Don't move. Don't make a sound. And sharpen your senses."
The lizard flexed its claws lightly, feeling the vibrations of the fox's steps through bone and muscle, absorbing the layered scents of the pavilion—refined metals, sealed blood, preserved cores, and resentment bound into artifacts too dangerous for public display.
The fox's outward appearance remained unremarkable, but its mind was already mapping corridors, calculating distances, identifying pressure points in the formations woven into the floor and walls.
Step by step, they moved deeper into the **Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion**.
They passed through a polished doorway, leaving the outer hall behind.
The change was immediate.
The air grew heavier—dense, expectant, threaded with restrained power. The chamber beyond was far larger than its exterior suggested. Tall ceilings arched overhead, beams carved with faintly glowing runes that pulsed in slow, deliberate rhythm. Lanterns swayed gently, casting warm pools of light across the stone floor.
Along the walls stood **pedestals and stands**, each marked with inscriptions and layered seals. Shadowed figures occupied the room—buyers and bidders cloaked in muted colors, seated or standing in deliberate spacing. Near each of their eyes hovered faint glyphs, softly glowing, calculating, recording.
The room hummed—not with noise, but with **attention**.
The fox moved toward the center, tails swaying faintly beneath the illusion as its eyes swept the chamber.
"…Here we are," it whispered to the lizard via spirit transmission. "Notice the spacing. The glyphs. Every aura is measured. Every intention tracked."
The lizard crouched lower, senses flaring as it absorbed the pulses of qi moving through the room like a slow heartbeat.
"This is an auction," the fox continued. "A place where rare items are presented, bids are placed—and the highest, or most dangerous, offer wins."
Its gaze lingered on a pedestal sealed more heavily than the rest.
"The cost here isn't just spirit stones or jade," it added. "It's influence. Risk. And how much attention you're willing to endure afterward."
The fox paused.
"And those orbs?" it murmured. "They record everything. Bids. Reactions. Even hesitation. Nothing leaves this room unseen."
The lizard remained silent, absorbing through instinct and the fox's measured guidance.
The ghost-faced woman led them to a slightly elevated section along the side of the chamber and gestured toward a seat.
"Here is your place," she said. A glyph hovered above it, forming a number. "Number **27**."
The fox inclined its head politely and stepped forward, settling into the chair with smooth ease. Beneath the illusion, its real body adjusted, tails curling neatly beneath it.
The woman turned and departed, gliding back toward the inner gallery—her authority unquestioned.
"…They hold this auction three times a week," the fox murmured to the lizard once she was gone. "Same days, every time. I've never attended before—never had the resources. So that code earlier?" A subtle flick of an illusioned hand. "That was me testing for an opening. Seeing if they're helding an auction today."
The fox leaned back slightly, senses extending.
"They track everything here. If you're new, the trick is making sure they don't learn more about you than you intend."
A faint chime echoed through the chamber.
"…And now," the fox said softly, almost to itself, "…the auction begins."
The lizard remained still atop its head, blank-eyed—but alert. Every scent, every vibration, every fluctuation of qi was catalogued and stored.
The Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion was no longer just a place of commerce.
It was a field of calculation.
And opportunity.