[Ding! No. Subject has not reached the threshold of innate talent. Cultivation base achieved through medicinal support.]
He blinked. "You mean… she's all pills?"
[Ding! Correct. Spiritual foundation unstable. Estimated future bottleneck: Nascent Soul Realm.]
Qin Wucheng sighed. "So she looks powerful, but she's hollow inside."
Still, his gaze lingered on her a moment longer. For someone who had climbed that high through sheer persistence and pills, the woman's willpower must've been terrifying.
Below the stage, the crowd shouted again, calling out her name. Wei Yiyi raised a hand for silence, her tone calm but commanding.
"Welcome, honored guests," she said. "On behalf of the Primordial Commerce Pavilion, I thank you all for attending."
The noise subsided instantly.
Even the reckless ones shut their mouths, not daring to make a sound.
Qin Wucheng leaned back slightly, smiling faintly. "Interesting. Not bad for someone on pills."
Then, as the hall lights shifted and the first treasure was brought out, he straightened, eyes bright with amusement.
"This might actually be fun."
The hall quieted as Fairy Wei Yiyi stepped back beneath the lantern glow. Two attendants, hands steady, lifted a jade coffer veiled in seals. When the lid rose, a clear fragrance spilled out, crisp as spring on ice.
Within, a bead of gold hovered. Thin silver arcs pulsed inside it, like tiny runes swimming in light.
A hiss swept the hall.
"The Heavenly Spirit Pill!"
Even before Wei Yiyi spoke, everyone felt the vitality. The air itself seemed to thrum.
"This ninth-grade Heavenly Spirit Pill," Wei Yiyi's voice was cool, "is refined by the Primordial Commerce Pavilion. It raises the success rate for a Half-Step Immortal King attempting the Immortal King Realm by sixty percent."
Sixty percent. The number hammered every chest.
"No wonder a hundred states sent their hegemons."
"Only the Pavilion dares to put this out!"
The starting price flared on the projection stone above the stage:
One million high-grade spirit stones.
A breath later:
"Ten million."
From the Sky Martial Dynasty's loft. Calm tone. The hall pivoted as one.
"The Crown Prince?"
"Jiang Taixu dares to open at ten times…"
Another voice rose, steady and cold.
"Twenty million."
The Liu Family of Yunzhou.
Then a dry, old voice:
"Fifty million."
Silence crushed the noise. The nameplate over that room glowed a single character—Han.
"The Han Family of Yuezhou…"
"The clan that once produced an Immortal King…"
No one bid again. Even the Sky Martial envoys held their tongues. A thousand years ago, a top dynasty picked a fight with the Han Family and was erased inside three days. That stain still echoed through the Southern Wilderness.
Up in a shadowed loft, Qin Wucheng watched, wine cup idle in hand, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "They're acting like they've never seen a pill."
Behind him, Luo Jingtao lowered his eyes. "Sect Master, if one person breaks through to the Immortal King Realm, a region bends around them. To these dynasties, this pill is a second sun."
Qin Wucheng hummed without comment. In his heart, the System's mall still felt more obscene than this little golden candy.
Wei Yiyi swept the hall with her gaze. "Any higher?"
Silence.
"The Heavenly Spirit Pill—sold to the Han Family of Yuezhou for fifty million high-grade spirit stones."
The hammer fell. The elder who received the pill was bloodless but shaking with relief, clutching the coffer as if it were his own heart.
Somewhere deep within the pavilion, an ancient voice sighed, unheard by all. "So the old Han patriarch really is at the gate."
The lights dimmed, then brightened.
A long, dark-red case was borne out, sigils crawling along its surface. When it opened—
Boom.
A spear lay within, metal dark as dried blood, faint crimson light breathing along its shaft. For one instant, it felt like a god opened its eyes.
Even Nascent Soul experts buckled. Weaker cultivators coughed blood and clung to railings.
Then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure vanished. The spear rested, harmless, like a sleeping dragon.
"Saint Weapon…" many whispered, faces white.
On Qin Wucheng's side, Wang Ming's eyes were indifferent. "Remnant Saint Weapon."
Luo Jingtao trembled. "Even broken, it will drive dynasties insane…"
"To Lingxiao, it is nothing," Wang Ming said.
Luo Jingtao sucked a breath, chest burning with a pride he didn't dare show.
Wei Yiyi's tone returned to calm. "Finale item. Remnant Saint Weapon, Blood Dragon Spear. Starting bid, one hundred million high-grade spirit stones."
No one moved.
Everyone knew: whoever stuck out a hand would paint a target on their back for ten thousand li.
Wei Yiyi arched a brow, faint amusement in her eyes. "No bids?"
A hand somewhere twitched—when a thunderclap slammed the sky.
Boom.
The entire ancient city of Great Qin shivered. The grand hall trembled; dust fell from rafters. People surged to their feet.
"What's going on?"
"Not an earthquake—spiritual force!"
Through the skylight, barrier runes flared gold. A vast shadow fell across the city like a tide.
Warships.
Dozens, iron-black, banners snapping in high wind—the sigil of the Sky Martial Dynasty writ in black flame.
"Hah? An army?"
"Jiang Yuan's insane—here, in Qingzhou?"
"During the Pavilion's auction—are they begging for destruction?"
Attendants froze. Even Wei Yiyi's expression cracked. "Seal the pavilion. Activate the inner array!"
The outer city barrier shone like a sun—and shattered, a spiderweb of light breaking under iron prows. Sky Martial's warships punched through as if through paper. Outside, battle horns shook cloud and stone.
Across the capital, Great Qin's defense formations roared awake, golden walls rising. Within that dome, the streets boiled with cultivators scrambling to look up into the storm.
Qin Wucheng stepped to the balcony edge with his people. He looked at the sky as if he were reading a line of poor calligraphy. "Peaceful auction, my ass."
Luo Jingtao's face drained. "Sky Martial dares to provoke the Pavilion's face? They've gone mad."
"Or they think they won't need to face consequences," Wang Ming said softly.
A ripple of golden light rose from the palace district. A single figure floated there, golden robe, dragon emblem bright—Qin Lu, ruler of Great Qin. His presence alone pressed the city into stillness.
Qin Lu's voice cut the sky like a blade. "Jiang Yuan, get out."
The void trembled. On the far side of the dome, a second figure stepped from emptiness—austere, black-gold armor, hair dark and burning at the tips, eyes like cold iron.
Jiang Yuan, Lord of the Sky Martial Dynasty.
Their gazes locked. The air between them froze.
"Qin Lu," Jiang Yuan said, voice low, contempt heavy, "Great Qin has rotted. Today, your dynasty is erased."
Murmurs surged below. Even separated by a city, people felt the oppressive calm of two Half-Step Immortal King Realm titans facing each other.
Qin Lu's eyes were cold. "Destroy Great Qin? Do you have that strength?"
A faint sneer tugged Jiang Yuan's mouth. "You'll know soon."
Qin Lu lifted his hand. Golden radiance boiled upward, like a sun breaching cloud.
"Try."
Boom.