The lanterns dimmed.
A soft chime rang three times—slow, deliberate, final.
"The auction has concluded," the attendant announced. "Thank you, honored guests."
The low murmur of voices rose as cultivators stood, some satisfied, others irritated, some already calculating their next move.
The fox leaned back in the chair, illusion steady, posture relaxed—but its mind was sharp.
"…Did you notice," it transmitted quietly, "how many Yin items and demon cores appeared tonight?"
On its head, the invisible lizard shifted slightly.
*Yes,* it replied. *Two and one demon core.*
The fox's ears twitched beneath the illusion.
"…Exactly," it said. "Auctions don't work like that. They don't flood a night with a theme unless demand already exists—or unless someone *expects* it to."
A pause.
"…It's like they knew someone was coming."
The lizard was silent for a moment.
Then:
*But I didn't get any,* it said calmly. *You said we would.*
The fox didn't react outwardly.
Inside, it smiled.
"…You're thinking too narrowly," it replied. "What we bought tonight wasn't food."
It glanced around as guests filtered out.
"…It was leverage."
The lizard didn't answer.
The fox continued, voice smooth and certain.
"Trust the process. This was never about eating *here*. This is just the beginning."
As if on cue—
Soft footsteps approached.
The ghost-faced woman had returned.
Her pale, expressionless mask tilted toward them.
"Seat Twenty-Seven," she said evenly. "Please follow me to claim your items."
The fox rose smoothly.
"See?" it transmitted to the lizard as it followed her. "Watch carefully."
They moved through a side corridor, away from the auction hall, the noise fading behind them. The air grew quieter. Thicker. Formations hummed softly within the walls.
They stopped before a sealed door etched with layered runes.
"This is the claiming room," the woman said. "Identity confirmation will occur inside."
She pressed a palm to the door.
Runes flared.
The door slid open.
The fox stepped forward without hesitation, illusion flawless, aura controlled.
Inside, rows of sealed cases waited—each containing items purchased at auction, guarded by formations far denser than those outside.
The fox paused just inside the threshold.
"Watch," it told the lizard one last time.
"Because what happens next…"
Its eyes gleamed faintly.
"…is where things actually begin."
The ghost-faced woman turned slightly, hands folding within her sleeves as faint runes rose from the floor.
"Please wait," she said evenly. "Calculating total payment."
She raised one slender hand, and a **jade ledger** unfolded in the air between them, runes rearranging themselves as numbers began to calculate.
"Seat Seventy-Three," she said evenly. "Your confirmed purchases are as follows."
The jade surface glowed.
"—Warden Mask of Silent Grief."
"—Soul-Nourishing Pellet Set."
"—Shadow-Bound Core."
"—Refined Yin Thread Bundle."
"—Soul-Thread Talismans."
The runes shifted again, lines tightening, values compressing.
"The total," the woman continued, tone perfectly neutral, "comes to **three thousand eight hundred and forty low-grade spirit stones**."
The number settled.
Still.
Heavy.
The room was quiet.
On the fox's head, the lizard stiffened slightly.
*…Hmn. That is a lot,* it thought.
Inside the illusion, the fox felt it.
Not shock.
But a sharp, unpleasant *weight*.
"…So that's how they squeeze," it thought coolly.
Outwardly, it didn't even blink.
"Mm," the fox replied calmly, fingers resting behind its back. "That's… higher than expected."
The woman did not respond. She simply waited.
The fox let the silence stretch—just long enough to feel deliberate.
Then it spoke again, tone unchanged.
"Would the Heavenweight Exchange," it asked, "be open to a **trade offset**?"
The woman's pale face tilted a fraction.
"A trade?" she repeated. "What item does the guest wish to offer?"
The fox smiled faintly.
"Spirit tools," it said. "**Earth-grade spirit tools**."
That did it.
For the first time since they entered, the air in the room shifted.
The runes along the walls brightened subtly—not aggressively, but attentively. The woman's posture straightened by a hair's breadth.
"Earth-grade," she repeated slowly. "Plural?"
"Yes," the fox said mildly. "Several."
A pause.
Then the woman raised one hand. A translucent formation unfurled beside her, layered and precise.
"Please present the items," she said. "They will be appraised."
Inside the illusion, the fox's eyes gleamed.
*Right on cue,* it thought.
Through a controlled pulse of qi, it opened its pouch.
Light spilled out.
One by one, **sealed spirit tools** floated into the air—each wrapped in restraint formations, each radiating dense, unmistakable **Earth-grade pressure**.
A defensive talisman disk.
A layered ward bracelet.
A compact barrier mirror.
Clean. Stable. Properly preserved.
The woman did not move.
But the formations around the room reacted immediately—recognition rippling through them.
"…Authentic," she said after a moment. "And in good condition."
On the fox's head, the invisible lizard remained perfectly still.
Watching.
Learning.
The fox clasped its hands behind its back again, voice smooth as silk.
"I'm not interested in selling them cheaply," it added.
"But I am interested in making this transaction… convenient."
The woman was silent for several breaths.
Then she turned slightly, gesturing toward a secondary platform.
"Please wait," she said. "A senior appraiser will be summoned."
The fox inclined its head politely.
"Of course."
As she stepped away, the fox transmitted softly to the lizard:
"…This is why we didn't rush."
Its tails swayed faintly.
"Food comes later," it said.
"First—we make the market move for *us*."
The door at the far end of the claiming room slid open without a sound.
The temperature shifted—not colder, not warmer, but **heavier**.
Footsteps followed.
Measured. Unhurried.
An elderly man entered, robes the color of old ash trimmed with thin lines of gold. His hair was white, tied back neatly, and his eyes—sharp, bright, utterly awake—passed over the room in a single sweep before settling on the floating items.
He did not look at the fox first.
He looked at the tools.
"…Earth-grade," he said softly. Not a question.
The ghost-faced woman inclined her head. "Verified and sealed, Senior Appraiser."
The man stepped closer. With a flick of his fingers, several inspection formations unfolded—fine, delicate things meant to *listen* rather than probe. They passed over the talisman disk, the bracelet, the mirror.
One breath.
Two.
"…Defensive focus," the man murmured. "Layered construction. No shortcuts."
His gaze finally shifted to the fox's illusion.
"You're not a merchant," he said calmly.
The fox smiled—just enough.
"No," it replied. "Just someone who prefers to survive."
A pause.
The man chuckled once, quietly.
"A respectable preference."
He waved his hand. The formations collapsed.
"Three Earth-grade defensive tools," he said. "Individually, they would sell well. Together…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "…they tell me you know what you're doing."
The fox inclined its head.
"I don't sell offensively," it said. "Too volatile."
The appraiser studied it for a long moment, then nodded.
"Smart."
He turned to the woman. "Recalculate."
Runes flared again.
Numbers shifted.
The woman spoke.
"Trade-in value," she said, "**four thousand six hundred low-grade spirit stones**."
The fox's ears twitched inwardly.
More than enough.
The man continued, tone casual. "After settling your auction purchases, you will have a surplus of **eight hundred and forty** stones."
The fox exhaled softly, as if relieved.
"Acceptable."
On its head, the lizard remained silent—but its mind was sharp.
*You sold protection,* it thought.
*Not food.*
The fox transmitted quietly:
"…Protection is easy to replace. Opportunity isn't."
The appraiser gestured once more. "Do you wish to receive the surplus in stones… or credit?"
The fox didn't hesitate.
"Credit," it said. "Unrestricted."
The man smiled slightly.
"Of course."
A jade slip floated forward, inscribed with layered seals—**Heavenweight Exchange Credit**, anonymous, transferable, and very dangerous in the wrong hands.
The fox accepted it.
The ghost-faced woman began transferring the purchased items into a reinforced case, sealing each one carefully.
"Your transaction is complete," she said. "Heavenweight thanks you for your business."
The fox inclined its head politely.
As they turned to leave, the senior appraiser spoke again.
"…Young man."
The fox paused.
"Yes?"
The man's eyes glinted.
"Heavenweight Exchange is always interested in sellers who bring *quality*."
A beat.
"…And discretion."
The fox smiled.
"I'll remember that."
They exited.
The corridor swallowed them, the door sealing shut behind them with a soft hum.
Only once they were several turns away did the fox release a slow breath.
"…There," it transmitted. "Now we have funds. Contacts. And attention."
On its head, the lizard finally spoke.
*When do I get the yin and spiritual material?*
The fox's smile widened—sharp, satisfied.
"Soon," it replied. "Very soon."