Herbert whirled on him. “You idiot! Didn’t you get the letter from Immortal Drake? It was meant for me! He was being polite—he didn’t want to hand me the pill directly, so he put it up for auction. You ruined it!”

  Gerald snorted. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Keep fttering yourself. My uncle-master didn’t even smite you with lightning, and you think he would give you a pill? Please.”

  “Hmph!” Herbert gred at him. “I get it—you’re jealous. You raised the price just to screw me over. But fine. I’ll remember this. You’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

  With that, he stormed into his room and smmed the door so hard the walls shook.

  Originally, Herbert had pnned to take the Blood Qi Pill and return to the Moonlit Sect to enter seclusion. At his level, nothing else could tempt him—not even the rarest treasure.

  But that bastard Gerald had pissed him off so badly that he changed his mind.

  Tomorrow, he’d stay. And he’d make damn sure to drive up every single price that idiot bid on—just to watch him bleed.

  .......

  The next morning, the auction resumed.

  Lauren bought an Appearance-Stabilizing Pill and a Talisman Pen for a small fortune, then settled back to watch the show—the now-infamous feud between Room Thirty-Eight and Room Thirty-Nine.

  When Gerald, who had a Gold Spiritual Root, tried to bid on a Golden Spirit Stone, the price was instantly driven up to thirty million.

  Who would believe this wasn’t personal?

  The crowd murmured excitedly. After st night’s battle over the Blood Qi Pill, everyone already suspected both bidders were Spirit Transformation cultivators. Nobody dared accuse either of being a fake bidder anymore.

  During the morning session, Gerald actually managed to win two items—but both at absurdly infted prices, and Dante nearly tore his hair out in frustration.

  Herbert, meanwhile, wasn’t faring much better. Twice he’d raised the price so high that the other bidder suddenly backed out, forcing him to buy junk at ridiculous prices.

  By noon, both men looked ready to explode.

  ......

  The csh between Rooms 38 and 39 was so fierce that anything they didn’t buy on instantly became a hot commodity. The other guests, desperate for scraps, were practically groveling—some even revealed their true identities just to beg for mercy and secure what little slipped through the cracks.

  Herbert didn’t give a damn. Gerald, however, was inconsoble.

  “Two full rounds,” he muttered, clutching his chest, “and I only got two items? Sigh! That little golden cauldron just now was perfect. What a waste.”

  “Master,” Dante said dryly, “you already have several golden cauldrons like that.”

  “They’re different.”

  “...Aren’t they all pill furnaces? They look exactly the same to me.”

  “The patterns are different.”

  Dante just stared at him, speechless.

  “In this tenth round,” the auctioneer announced, her tone deliberately coy, “the owner of the mysterious auction item is…”

  The crowd leaned forward, breath held.

  “...Immortal Venerable Drake.”

  A ripple of shock spread through the hall.

  Another item from Immortal Venerable Drake? Anything from him was guaranteed to be extraordinary. What could it be this time?

  The attendants opened a rge box—inside it was a smaller one, glimmering faintly with spiritual light.

  When the auctioneer lifted the lid, a deep crimson pill shimmered within.

  “A Blood Qi Pill,” she decred.

  The room exploded.

  Another one?

  “Oh my god! Someone notify the ancestors—there’s another Blood Qi Pill!”

  People rushed to gather their remaining spirit stones, and word spread like wildfire. Even those miles away were sprinting toward the Sunspire Auction House.

  In the private room, Immortal Venerable Herbert threw open his window, half leaning out, eyes wide.

  “How the hell are there two?!”

  His disciple gawked beside him, equally stunned.

  Down below, the auctioneer continued gracefully, “Starting bid: thirty million. Increments of one million.”

  The bidding frenzy began instantly.

  When the price passed fifty million, most bidders dropped out—too poor, too tired, or too terrified to keep going.

  “Fifty-eight million,” the auctioneer called. “Guest Thirty-Eight bids fifty-eight million. Any higher?”

  Herbert froze. Yesterday, he’d already blown ninety-three million on the first Blood Qi Pill. After today’s repeated price wars with Gerald, his storage ring was nearly empty.

  He’d only bid now out of spite. But the moment the number left his lips, he realized he was broke.

  Leaning halfway out the window, he stared at the gleaming Blood Qi Pill on the stage below, his temples throbbing.

  Why are there two?

  Drake had told him about the pill before the auction—wasn’t it supposed to help him extend his life? To help him break through his bottleneck?

  Could it be that bastard was… pying him?

  By the time the gavel struck, the pill was sold to Guest Thirty-Eight for fifty-eight million spirit stones.

  Gerald was grinning ear to ear. Herbert, meanwhile, looked ready to keel over.

  His disciple rushed to steady him. “Master, are you all right?”

  Herbert waved him off. “Go. We’re leaving.”

  Back at the inn, Herbert sat in silence, thinking it over. The longer he did, the angrier he became. Something didn’t sit right. He’d been had.

  With a furious grunt, he stormed out and banged on Gerald’s door.

  Dante opened it, his expression stiff. “Immortal Herbert.”

  Herbert’s beard trembled. “Where’s your master?”

  “Herbert, what can I do for you?” came Gerald’s cheery voice from inside.

  Herbert shoved Dante aside and marched in.

  “Gerald! Did you do this on purpose?”

  Gerald blinked, all false innocence. “Do what on purpose, Herbert?”

  “You—! Don’t py dumb with me! You deliberately raised the price yesterday, didn’t you?!”

  Gerald frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re allowed to bid, but I’m not? Do you run the auction now? And while we’re at it, were you deliberately raising the price on me today?”

  Herbert’s jaw clenched. “Don’t act innocent! You knew there were two Blood Qi Pills!”

  “I did,” Gerald said casually. “Immortal Drake asked me to deliver them to the auction house for him.”

  Herbert froze, face twitching.

  So he’d known? He’d known there were two from the start—and still drove up the price yesterday just to screw with him?

  Herbert’s voice trembled with fury. “You… you son of a bitch. You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

  A thousand years of cultivation and composure evaporated in that instant.

  For a moment, Immortal Venerable Herbert—revered by countless disciples—looked ready to strangle someone.

  BOOM!

  With an earth-shaking explosion, the roof of Sunspire’s most luxurious inn was bsted clean off.

  Panicked guests, not knowing what the hell was happening, grabbed their weapons, activated defensive charms, and scattered in every direction.

  Then, to everyone’s astonishment, two streaks of light shot skyward—one gold, one bck—cshing violently as angry shouts echoed through the air.

  “Porky, you shameless bastard, how dare you sneak attack me?!”

  The two streaks twisted and collided again and again, bursting into blinding fres of light. Golden lightning tore through the clouds above Sunspire as if the heavens themselves were furious.

  The entire city froze.