The Evolution Point prompt never appeared.
That single slap had silenced the entire auction hall.
Whether auction-goers or Dachang's thousand-strong armed force, every mouth hung open. Nobody had imagined it. That was Li Tailong—yet here he lay broken, incapacitated by a single, casual palm. Was any of this real?
"Fire!" someone finally barked.
A sharp command, frantic and raw. Instantly, the thousand soldiers raised their rifles and opened up—because even now many people still trusted bullets. They trusted science.
Chen Xiao smiled faintly, then unfurled the Mountain and River Map. A roaring torrent poured out of the scroll—endless, implacable. The water formed a living, shimmering curtain that wrapped Chen Xiao and Ouyang Miao in an impenetrable shell.
"Did he really take down Li Tailong?" whispers rippled through the crowd. "Is that dog-like Tailong dead?" Some cheered for the Mad Ghost Butcher; others thanked the Jiangbei pair for their sudden salvation. Fear and admiration mixed in equal measure.
Chen Xiao walked forward, the scroll's river sweeping aside bullets and scattershot like so much debris. Panic spread fast: guns clattered to the ground, men dropped armor and fled. Chen Xiao stopped showing mercy.
He summoned from the map a colossus—this time a far larger "mountain" than anything he'd raised before. It loomed above the auction hall like a chunk of earth torn from heaven. Its impact would have buried half the venue.
But a soft, almost resigned sigh cut through the air. The falling mountain shattered mid-descent—something cleaved it apart with precision that echoed a familiar force signature. Chen Xiao's face stiffened. He had detected a powerful presence—subtle and well-hidden—and now it revealed itself.
A figure stepped forward. Adorned in feathered crown and ornate ethnic robes, a young man carried a bright lamp that pulsed with an odd, ancient glow.
"You're… Zhou Xun," Ouyang Miao whispered, paling. "Second executive under An Xinning. He and An went to the Zhang family together."
Chen Xiao raised an eyebrow. Capital executives loved to meddle. First Yuan Qingzheng at the wedding. Then Pei Tianyuan at Zhang Family Pond. Now another face from the capital—each appearance deepening the political tangle.
Zhou Xun held the bright lamp in silence. Behind him walked a man in military uniform with a hawkish face.
"Li Xiang," Chen Xiao guessed.
The uniformed man confirmed it with a slow nod. "I'm the first executive of Dachang's military region," he said.
Li Xiang's voice was measured. "If you were the Mad Ghost Butcher, perhaps we would think twice. But with only that scroll? You can't be allowed to burn Dachang to the ground."
Zhou Xun stepped forward; the bright lamp flared with terrifying presence. This, too, was an evolution-type device—another opportunity in flesh. The military had tricks.
Space around Chen Xiao began to crack—an all-too-familiar distortion that resembled the effect of Eight Directions Slaughter. The first executive's man had force to break space itself.
Quick as thought, Chen Xiao called on the Mountain and River Map and pushed a tidal barricade between himself and the incoming rupture. Then, with a calm voice, he intoned the four words like a curse and a command:
"Nine!" "Foot!" "Seal!" "Imprint!"
Zhou Xun was instantly swallowed by a viscous, maddening force—as if sinking into a tarred swamp. Movement slowed, reactions blurred, thinking thickened. The Nine-Foot Seal did exactly what its name promised: it dragged rules themselves over the battlefield and imposed a cage.
In that pause, Chen Xiao's fist was already a fraction of a second away from Zhou Xun's face.
"Reforge!" Zhou Xun cried, hammering his spider SS-rank talent Space Construction. He tried to rebuild space itself—but the seal suffocated the technique. For a terrifying instant he felt his powers die.
Panic painted his features. The bright lamp throbbed—without it, Zhou Xun would have been finished. It acted as an anchor, a lifeline, keeping some morsel of his ability alive. Rule-talent holders were dangerous because their gifts bent the rules; without the lamp, Zhou Xun would have been swept aside like dust.
He stumbled back, gasping. Around them the murmurs rose into a cacophony.
"Capital involvement—this is bad.""The auction's a trap!""Jiangbei's boss is getting stronger!"
Li Xiang's brows drew together. "Zhou Xun, report," he hissed. Zhou Xun crouched, unsteady. "Chief An only authorized limited support," he muttered. "This… this is tricky."
Li Xiang's fury was immediate. "You're abandoning Dachang?" His voice cracked like a whip—part with authority, part with panic. Had Zhou Xun faltered? Had An Xinning's backing been overextended?
Dust and blood settled. The auction hall lay bruised and broken, its fate uncertain. Chen Xiao tightened his grip on the Mountain and River Map, the scroll warm against his shoulder. Around him, the balance of force had shifted dangerously—capitals, military regions, and regional powers were now openly clashing. The Bright Lamp glowed faintly in Zhou Xun's hand, a small but crucial beacon in a suddenly lawless night.