Hiss—
The entire room gasped.
Ten million for a student’s painting? Was this guy out of his mind?
Heads turned, and they saw it was Ye Qiu who’d called out the bid.
Elder Longmei grabbed him, frantic. “Little brat, are you insane? Ten million for this lousy painting?”
“No choice, I’m loaded.”
Before Ye Qiu finished, a mocking laugh rang out.
“Hahaha, what a riot! Where’d this idiot come from, dropping ten million on a painting like that? Did a donkey kick his head?” It was Young Master Zhang.
His lackeys joined in the jeering.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, talk about money to burn!”
“I wouldn’t take that trash if you gave it to me!”
“Ten million? Isn’t that the legendary ‘dumb and rich’?”
“Hahaha…”
The crowd roared with laughter.
The host, thinking she’d misheard, looked at Ye Qiu. “Sir, are you really bidding ten million for this painting?”
“Of course. What, you think it’s too cheap?”
“No, no, as long as you like it!” The host beamed—ten million meant a hefty commission for her.
She raised her voice, “Ten million, first call. Any higher bids?”
Silence.
“Ten million, second call.”
“Ten million, third call.”
Thud!
She struck the table with her gavel. “Sold for ten million! Congratulations, sir.”
Turning to Ye Qiu, she added, “Sir, per the artist’s request, please proceed backstage after the auction. The painter will personally hand you the artwork.”
“Got it.”
Ye Qiu nodded.
…
Backstage.
A flicker of surprise flashed in the girl’s bright eyes.
Her bodyguard said, “Miss, that guy’s got a screw loose! He called your painting childish, now he’s shelling out a fortune for it. Is he stupid?”
The girl shook her head. “A thousand gold for a beauty’s smile—he’s not dumb.”
A beauty’s smile?
The bodyguard caught on. “Oh, so he’s after you, Miss! A toad lusting after a swan—he doesn’t even deserve to look in a mirror!”
…
Soon, the second auction began.
“The first item wasn’t a masterwork, so we didn’t show it physically. Starting now, all treasures will be displayed on stage,” the host announced.
“Please bring out the second item.”
Eight staff members huffed and puffed as they hauled a large wooden crate onto the stage.
It looked heavy.
“This treasure’s quite weighty. Take a look,” the host said, nodding to the staff.
They opened the crate, revealing a rectangular stone stele.
Two meters tall, one meter wide, pitch black, and over a thousand pounds.
Faint traces of carved words marred its surface, too worn to read.
A chilling aura seeped from it, dropping the hall’s temperature by twenty degrees. People shivered.
“What’s this stele’s story?”
“Why’s it got such heavy yin energy?”
“Was it dug up from a tomb?”
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Elder Longmei’s eyelid twitched. “This stele’s dripping with killing intent. It’s an ill-omened thing.”
“Can you tell its origin?” Ye Qiu asked.
Elder Longmei shook his head.
The host spoke up, “I’m sure you’ve noticed—since this stele appeared, the temperature here’s plummeted, right?”
Nods all around.
“Truth be told, I felt the same way when I first saw it—curious why a stone could exude such a cold, eerie vibe.”
“It wasn’t until I learned its history that it made sense.”
“Let me introduce its background. This is the Killing Aura Stele.”
Killing Aura Stele?
The crowd exchanged puzzled looks.
These were collectors and antique dealers—give them a hint, and they’d usually peg an item’s origin. But this Killing Aura Stele? Never heard of it.
“You’re probably wondering what it is. If I use its other name, you’ll know,” the host said.
“This Killing Aura Stele is also called the Seven Kills Stele.”
The room erupted.
“What? This is the legendary Seven Kills Stele?”
“Wasn’t it said to be a myth? How’s it here?”
“Unbelievable!”
“What’s the Seven Kills Stele?” Young Master Zhang asked his lackey in the front row.
The lackey shook his head. “No clue.”
“You don’t know and didn’t look it up? Moron!” Zhang snapped.
The lackeys scrambled for their phones. Soon, one said, “Found it.”
“Read!”
“Per the Ming History, Emperor Zhang Xianzhong of the Great West was a ruthless killer who erected a stele to declare his intent: ‘Heaven births all things for man, man offers nothing to Heaven—kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.’ That’s the Seven Kills Stele. But…”
“But what?” Zhang pressed.
“But whether it really existed is debated among archaeologists. Some say it’s fake, others say it’s real but didn’t bear those exact words.”
“Got it.” Zhang eyed the stele, deep in thought.
The host gave a dramatized rundown of its history, echoing the lackey’s account but amping it up to boost the price.
“Now, bidding begins. The Seven Kills Stele starts at five hundred thousand, increments of at least fifty thousand. Please bid.”
“Five hundred thousand!”
“Five fifty!”
“Six hundred!”
“Six fifty!”
Several jumped in.
“One million!”
A loud voice boomed from the front row.
It was Zhang. The others clammed up, and the room went quiet.
Ye Qiu stared at the stele, sensing something off. How could a mere stone radiate such intense killing intent?
Curious, he silently activated his Heavenly Eye.
His gaze pierced the stele’s surface, peering inside.
His heart jolted.
The host scanned the room, announcing, “One million, first call. Any higher bids?”
“One million, second call.”
“One million, third call. If no one else bids, this treasure goes to Young Master Zhang…”
She raised her gavel, about to strike—
“Ten million! It’s mine!”
