The hall buzzed with speculation.
"Is he finally stopping?"
"Impossible… he's been throwing gold like water until now."
"Maybe even the Bai Clan has limits…"
"Perhaps his money has dried out from earlier bidding."
All eyes flicked back and forth between the poised auctioneer and the silent Bai Zihan.
Lan Yuerong lifted her hammer with practiced grace, her smile never faltering.
"Two million… once!"
The words reverberated like thunder in the tense stillness.
"Two million… twice!"
A hush fell over the crowd. Zhao Wutian's heart clenched. Panic surged in his chest.
(No—if it sold now, the Zhao Clan would not only lose potential profit but also pay the auction's commission for essentially buying back their own item.)
Desperate, his voice rang out, sharp and mocking:
"What's wrong, Young Master Bai? Have your pockets finally run dry? Or are you too afraid to spend for a treasure that can save your life? Surely, the great Bai Clan's heir isn't backing down now?"
