Dongyuan Prefecture spanned the size of three Xingwu Empire kingdoms, its capital the bustling heart, its vibrancy imaginable.
From Taifeng County to the capital, the distance was hefty—flying solo would take ages, but the airship slashed travel time.
After a day and a half, the capital’s vast, majestic walls loomed into view.
Lin Yun landed the airship and entered.
Inside, he asked a passerby for Xiaoyao Pavilion’s location, then hurried there to inquire about an Origin Water Lotus.
At Xiaoyao Pavilion.
“Hero, we’re out of Origin Water Lotus, it’s on backorder with many reservations, you’d need to queue,” the clerk said.
“How long if I reserve?” Lin Yun asked.
“Five to eight years at best, and with a premium,” the clerk replied.
“That slow?” Lin Yun frowned.
“Can’t help it, demand’s huge, supply’s tiny,” the clerk sighed.
He added, “If you’re in a rush, try the Treasure Contest in half a month.”
“Treasure Contest? What’s that?” Lin Yun puzzled.
“It’s like an auction, but to enter, you must consign a valuable item, only then can you bid,” the clerk explained.
“How valuable? Super-divine weapon enough?” Lin Yun asked, curious.
“Hero, this contest demands top-tier loot, higher stakes than regular auctions, items worth a million spirit crystals total to qualify,” the clerk said.
“Alright, give me the time and place,” Lin Yun said politely.
“Fourteen days from now, noon, at Dongyuan Assembly Hall,” the clerk answered.
“Thanks.”
Lin Yun thanked him and left.
He’d join this contest.
The bar was high, but that meant a trove of treasures!
Leaving Xiaoyao Pavilion, he found an inn to settle in, cultivating while awaiting the event.
Fourteen days flew by.
Xiao Bai, the Bai Ze beast, spent them eating and sleeping, growing slowly.
Today was the Treasure Contest.
Lin Yun arrived at Dongyuan Assembly Hall by 11 a.m.
An annual event in Dongyuan, with its population, sects, and factions, it had the clout to host yearly.
The capital saw several auctions monthly to meet修士 demand, though smaller-scale.
At the entrance, Lin Yun consigned a Holy Spirit-grade sword, then entered a grand hall.
Entry required a million spirit crystals’ worth—multiple items could sum it, but his sword alone far exceeded that.
Qualified entrants could bring up to ten kin.
Inside, a stage sat amid hundreds of seats, each holding ten-plus.
Only about a hundred attendees, including families.
Lin Yun took a seat, soon joined by a maid with fruit, offering a leg massage—service impeccable.
“No need, step back,” Lin Yun waved her off, smiling.
He wasn’t used to this.
“Sir, if I leave, I’ll be punished,” she said timidly.
“Then stand behind me,” he said.
She marveled inwardly—such a big shot, yet so approachable, no airs.
“Thank you, sir,” she bowed, retreating.
Noon struck, the contest began.
Few guests, but all were Dongyuan heavyweights.
An elder took the stage.
“Welcome to Dongyuan’s annual Treasure Contest.”
“We’ve held many, rules are simple: highest bidder wins, first up, Thousand-Mile Vanishing Talisman, starting at 400,000 spirit crystals,” his voice boomed, infectious.
The laid-back bigwigs perked up.
“Thousand-Mile Vanishing Talisman?” Lin Yun’s eyes flickered.
He’d used up his teleportation artifact—this would be handy.
“410,000!”
“450,000!”
“470,000!”
Bids rang out.
It stalled at 620,000.
“650,000!” Lin Yun called.
“This hero bids 650,000, anyone higher?”
The 620,000 bidder stayed silent.
The talisman’s worth hovered around 600,000—a luxury, gone after three uses, unlike a super-divine weapon, durable and resellable.
No further bids, the auctioneer hammered, “Thousand-Mile Vanishing Talisman goes to this hero.”
“Next, a Holy Spirit-grade saber, sure to pique your interest,” the elder grinned.
A Holy Spirit-grade saber rolled onto the stage.
Lin Yun recognized it—his consigned blade!
“A Holy Spirit-grade saber, rare even in past contests, worth millions.”
“Who consigned it? Bringing out a Holy Spirit-grade weapon?”
Murmurs rippled.
At an eastern seat.
“Father, you promised me a Holy Spirit-grade saber last time, this one’s perfect,” a phoenix-eyed, richly dressed young man said.
“Fine, if the price fits, I’ll snag it,” a scarred middle-aged man beside him replied.
The auctioneer continued, “This saber has a cutting effect, razor-sharp, starting at 8 million spirit crystals!”
“8.5 million!”
“8.8 million!”
Bidding erupted.
