Huo Chen opened his eyes and stood slowly, after two months of cultivation he had broken through to the seventh layer.

  The difference was immediate—his Qi moved through his meridians with a density and weight that felt entirely new. He walked to the center of the room and threw a few punches into the air.

  His fists moved like stones shot from a sling—heavy, fast and controlled.

  'The late stage really is different from the mid stage,' he thought. 'I feel at least three times stronger than before. And my Qi is way denser.'

  He stopped and flexed his hand, satisfied. Two months well spent. He walked to the bed and lay down.

  His body needed rest after two months of constant cultivation. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

  Two days later, Huo Chen settled his account with the innkeeper and left the Flowing Cloud Inn.

  He walked toward the city center, doing a mental count as he went.

  'All my low-grade spirit stones... gone.' The thought stung a little. He'd worked a bit for those stones but everything gone in a short two months time.

  Sixty days at fifteen stones per day for the room. Meals every day. A few minor purchases here and there. Over Nine hundred and forty stones. Just... gone.

  He sighed internally. 'Well, at least I still have my five mid-grade stones. That's something.'

  One mid-grade stone equaled hundred low-grade. Five meant five hundred in total if he needed to convert them. Not broke. Just... lighter than he'd prefer.

  'All good,' he decided, adjusting the storage bag at his side.

  The auction was today. He'd see what was worth spending on and what could wait. The streets grew busier the closer he got to the center. Cultivators moved with purpose, all heading the same direction.

  Some traveled in decorated carriages, the wood carved with intricate formations that hummed faintly with Qi. Others rode spirit beasts—massive wolves with silver fur, cranes with wingspans twice the height of a man, even a horned lion that drew stares as it padded through the crowd.

  The atmosphere in the city center was different. Anticipation and excitement hung thick in the air. Cultivators stood in clusters, talking in animated voices about what might appear at the auction. Others moved quickly, not wanting to miss the start.

  The Misty Veil Pavilion came into view as he rounded the main street. Five stories of white stone, wider than any building nearby, with protective formations layered across the entire exterior that gave the walls a faint shimmer in the afternoon light.

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  The Azure River Sect's water emblem hung on banners from every upper floor. A line had formed at the entrance.

  Huo Chen joined it, moving forward slowly as people paid and entered.

  Near the doors, young women in matching robes stood at intervals—attendants of some kind. A few gestured to certain cultivators, guiding them toward a separate entrance marked with red silk curtains. VIPs, probably. Others approached cultivators with items wrapped carefully, directing them toward a side building where auction submissions were handled. The line moved steadily.

  Ahead of him, a group of Azure River Sect disciples arrived, their robes crisp and their bearing confident. Their cultivation bases ranged from seventh to ninth layer, spiritual pressure radiating from them subtly.

  The attendants bowed as they passed and directed them toward the red curtain entrance without asking for payment.

  Shortly after, members of the major families began to arrive. Huo Chen recognized the styles—different family crests embroidered on their robes, guards flanking them on either side.

  Two young men approached the entrance at the same time, each surrounded by their respective guards. One wore deep blue robes with a gold crane embroidered on the chest. The other wore dark green with a silver tree.

  The one in blue glanced at the one in green and smirked. "Didn't expect to see the Liu Family here. I thought formations and talismans didn't leave much room in the budget for real treasures."

  The one in green stopped walking and turned slowly. "Hmph. At least we earn our wealth through skill, Jin family. How much of yours comes from skimming off merchant profits?"

  The Jin family member's expression darkened. "Careful how you speak, Liu Feng. Your family's position isn't as secure as you think."

  "And yours is?" Liu Feng shot back. "Keep talking and we'll see whose guards are better trained."

  The tension thickened. Both groups of guards shifted slightly, hands moving closer to weapons.

  Then a voice cut through, light and amused. "Are you two really going to fight before the auction even starts?"

  Both young men turned.

  A young woman approached, flanked by two attendants. She wore pale yellow robes embroidered with medicinal herbs—the Zhao Family crest. Her cultivation base was eighth layer, and she carried herself with easy confidence.

  The Jin family member's expression shifted immediately. He cupped his fists. "Zhao Lingxi. I didn't see you arrive."

  Liu Feng did the same, his earlier hostility gone. "A pleasure, as always."

  She waved a hand dismissively. "Save it for someone who cares. If you two want to waste energy fighting, do it after the auction. Some of us are here for actual business."

  Both young men fell silent, looking slightly sheepish, and all three groups moved toward the VIP entrance together.

  Their guards followed, and the brief confrontation dissolved as if it had never happened.

  Huo Chen watched the scene pass with mild amusement, then stepped forward when his turn came.

  The attendant at the entrance was polite but efficient. "Entry is fifty low-grade spirit stones."

  He pulled one mid-grade stone from his storage bag and handed it over. She examined it briefly, nodded, and produced fifty low-grade stones as change, passing them to him.

  He pocketed the stones and stepped through the entrance.

  The main hall opened up before him—enormous, with tiered rows of seats descending toward a raised central stage where a formation array glowed steadily. Private viewing boxes lined the upper level behind drawn curtains.

  The hall was already nearly full, the noise of hundreds of conversations pressing up against the high ceiling. Spiritual energy in the room felt thick, concentrated deliberately by the formations embedded in the walls.

  Huo Chen found an empty seat near the back and sat down. The stage below was still empty. But not for long.