Star Luo Auction House mirrored Tian Dou City's in layout and scale—it was utterly familiar to Yang Fan.
To Yang Wudi too.
Though the Breaking Clan now struggled, in his youth he'd frequented such venues.
Of course—key differences existed.
No women sold for 100,000 gold soul coins here, unlike the Tian Dou Empire.
Otherwise, Yang Fan might've bought one to "honor" Grandfather.
Thus, Star Luo's auctions lacked many soul-corroding distractions.
Seated discreetly in the back row (front seats were for show-offs), grandfather and grandson settled in.
What a coincidence!
The moment Yang Fan entered, the auctioneer presented body armor.
In Douluo, cold weapons were unpopular—soul masters relied on martial souls; wielding metal only hindered them.
But armor? Essential. Proper gear never impeded martial soul release—and could save a life.
In a blink—a middle-aged man secured it for 300,000 gold soul coins.
"Ridiculous!" Yang Wudi muttered from the rear. "Thirty grand for this junk?"
Unaware that auction prices had skyrocketed since his last visit, he soon realized his meager hundreds of thousands felt laughably inadequate.
His plan to thank the reclusive master with a meaningful gift was already crumbling.
"Next item: a medicinal herb!"
At "herb," both pairs of eyes lit up.
To others, mere vegetation. But to them? It had profound significance.
"Many guests may lack herbal knowledge," the auctioneer announced, lifting the red cloth.
Inside the glass case: a fiery-red, basin-sized lingzhi.
Golden Sun Ganoderma?! Yang Fan recognized it instantly.
A fire-attribute herb thriving in magma. Its purpose was mainly in body reinforcement—beloved by beast-type soul masters.
He'd seen thousand-year variants in Tian Dou City. But this one?
At least ten-thousand-years old.
Truly, treasures surfaced only in auction houses.
As the auctioneer detailed its effects, bidding erupted.
Starting at 30,000 gold soul coins, prices surged to 48,000 in seconds.
Silence fell at 50,000.
Despite the glowing description, most deemed it overpriced.
It was just a herb!
"Grandfather, bid for it," Yang Fan urged.
Yang Wudi frowned. "Why waste money? It's inferior to the Fire Spirit Grass I gave you—and far pricier."
"For my master," Yang Fan insisted.
No bluff. Yao Lao had just commanded him via soul transmission.
"Nonsense!" Yang Wudi scoffed. Better to give nothing than this.
"51,000!" Yang Fan called out.
"52,000!"
A voice cut in—from the middle-front row. The same middle-aged man who'd bought the armor.
But Yang Fan's gaze locked on the youth beside him.
"Dai… Dai Mubai?!"
Shock.
Though masked, the boy's silver hair, build, and aura were unmistakable.
Eleven or twelve years old.
The bidder? Clearly his guardian—a Soul Saint protector.
Even this sidelined prince has a bodyguard?
Then again—Xue Star guarded Xue Beng's worthless hide. Dai Mubai deserved one too.
"53,000!"
"54,000!"
"55,000!"
"56,000!"
"57,000!"
"58,000!"
With each bid, the guardian's face darkened.
Only Dai Weisi's faction dared oppose him in Star Luo City—and this bidder wasn't one of them.
At 70,000 gold soul coins, Yang Fan yielded.
Dai Mubai could chase glory. He wouldn't gamble the clan's future.
Let it go.
As bidding concluded, Dai Mubai rose slowly.
Through the mask, demonic eyes shot Yang Fan a glare—arrogant, dismissive, contemptuous.
Yang Fan smiled.
A bullied prince, fleeing his homeland to perform "daring deeds" abroad… now seeking superiority over a commoner? Pathetic.
Yang Wudi's calloused hand gripped his wrist—don't move.
Decades of hardship had tempered the elder's fire.
After securing the Zhu Family deal yesterday, provoking royalty was suicide.
Yang Fan patted his grandfather's hand. I won't act rashly.
You underestimate me.
Was he the type to cause public scenes?
…
On the return path:
"Xiao Fan—why insist on that Ganoderma?" Yang Wudi pressed.
Seventy thousand! Not the sum, but the waste. That money could buy two superior Fire Spirit Grasses.
"Master said: 'If you see Golden Sun Ganoderma—buy it.'"
Yang Fan still didn't know its purpose. Yao Lao's soul transmission was absolute.
Trust without question.
"No matter," Yang Wudi sighed. "Next time, Grandfather will get it for you."
Suddenly—street combat erupted.
Soul masters sensed such disturbances instantly.
Grandfather and grandson leaped onto a rooftop—then shared a wry smile.
"The Star Luo royal family," Yang Wudi noted.
No need to name Dai Mubai; the Evil Eye White Tiger martial soul betrayed his identity.
"Everyone says Star Luo's royal succession is brutal," Yang Fan murmured.
No surprise.
Street fights in this militarized capital—unreported to patrols? Pre-arranged.
Below, chaos peaked.
Dai Mubai cornered like a dog, battered relentlessly. His Soul Saint guardian, overwhelmed by two peers, fought desperately.
Without any intervention, the Third Prince would fall here.
"Grandfather—let's go down and 'help'!" Yang Fan's eyes gleamed.
"Don't interfere!" Yang Wudi warned. "It's the royal family's affairs. We stay neutral."
After leaving the Hao Tian Sect, he vowed that the Breaking Clan would serve no faction.
"Who said we're taking sides?" Yang Fan pointed. "See that storage soul tool on the ground? Our Golden Sun Ganoderma's inside."
He wasn't picking teams—he was looting.
"Reckless!" Yang Wudi hissed. "If discovered—"
He didn't finish. Yang Fan understood: exposure would force the Breaking Clan into the conflict.
"Grandfather," Yang Fan grinned, "I'll just snatch the tool—no martial soul needed. And if I'm spotted? Can these few thugs stop you, a Soul Douluo?"
In that moment—Yang Wudi's long-buried mischief stirred.
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