Chapter Thirty-Five: The Final Circle

The verification of financial strength proceeded in silence and with remarkable swiftness.

The white-clad members of the Snow Burial Society opened their black rods one by one, creating compact zones of silence in which to discreetly inquire about the intentions of the bidders before them and confirm their maximum limits. This might have been a lengthy process, but in reality, not everyone present was qualified to continue in this competition.

After all, to be able to produce thirty thousand gold leaf grass—a sum equivalent to over a ton of gold—was a rarity bordering on the extraordinary.

Therefore, the white-clad officials soon vanished once more, and Carlotus, who had been waiting all along, resumed his smiling address: “It seems everyone has now ascertained the limits of their abilities. In that case, the auction shall continue.”

“If I recall correctly, the last bid was thirty thousand and three gold leaf grass. We will pick up from there, and the bidding resumes.”

He bowed to the audience. “Please, continue.”

“Number One Hundred Thirty-Two, thirty-five thousand gold leaf grass.” Having had his assets confirmed, Lanliu resolved to show his hand.

Since he had set his ultimate limit at eighty thousand gold leaf grass, he could only pursue a strategy as bold and perilous as this, staking everything on a final victory.

“Twelve, thirty-five thousand and two gold leaf grass.” The girl beneath the cloak persisted, but the man who had previously raised each bid by only one gold leaf grass had already vanished.

“One Hundred Thirty-Two, forty thousand gold leaf grass.” Lanliu raised his paddle without hesitation.

A hush fell over the room.

Though those who had failed the asset verification could no longer bid, they were still permitted to remain as spectators, to witness the unfolding drama.

After all, the bid had now climbed to forty thousand gold leaf grass—a staggering sum, even in the long history of the Hall of Stars.

“Twelve, forty thousand and two gold leaf grass.” Twelve continued to bid.

But this was all within Lanliu’s calculations.

“One Hundred Thirty-Two, forty-five thousand gold leaf grass.”

There was not a flicker of doubt in Lanliu’s raised hand.

Now that everyone’s financial capacity was laid bare, the contest was destined to become a battle of attrition—every blow would land, every strike would count. If the other party could match these sums, it was clear they had the means to do so; the contest was now simply a war of wealth.

For Lanliu, both his psychological and material limits were fixed at eighty thousand gold leaf grass. He was even somewhat curious to see if anyone present could surpass that threshold.

Even if he were to win the exam’s third test at his absolute limit of eighty thousand, there were ways to spread the cost, so he might only pay thirty to forty thousand himself—a sum well within his tolerances.

Moreover, securing the test questions for the third trial would bring him immediate fame and considerable prestige within the Lan family. Those with whom he shared the questions would become his natural allies, and the elders of the family would undoubtedly look upon him with favor.

Lanliu had calculated everything in his mind.

Should the final bid exceed eighty thousand, he would withdraw without hesitation. The cost was painful, but so was the thought of wasting that much. Regretful, perhaps, but ultimately acceptable.

Weighing all the pros and cons, the man felt a clarity settle deep within himself.

“Twelve, forty-five thousand and two gold leaf grass.” Twelve followed yet again.

But this only confirmed her impressive resources.

The official certification provided by Nightleaf Academy was, it seemed, highly reliable.

Lanliu glanced at her once more, only to find her gaze meeting his. In the darkness, the eyes beneath that cloak shone with a startling brightness.

“One Hundred Thirty-Two, fifty thousand gold leaf grass.” Lanliu raised his paddle calmly.

From across the hall, the cloaked girl gave him a distant thumbs-up.

She did not bid again.

For a long moment, the hall was silent.

“Fifty thousand gold leaf grass… Who would have thought these test questions could be worth so much? If this happened every year, it might even offset the cost of the third trial itself.” On the stage, Carlotus spoke with evident delight. “I must say, I am thoroughly satisfied with this figure. Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge this sum?”

“The usual process, fifty thousand gold leaf grass, first call.”

“Fifty thousand gold leaf grass, sec—”

This time, before Carlotus could finish his second call, another voice rang out.

“One Hundred One, sixty thousand gold leaf grass.” The voice was clear and cold, underscored by an unwavering resolve.

Lanliu’s heart gave a jolt.

In the earlier rounds, the slow, incremental bids of one gold leaf grass at a time had suited him; he held the initiative and could raise the stakes by five or ten thousand at will, suffocating his rivals. But this Number One Hundred One had leapt straight to a ten-thousand increase. Should Lanliu match this with another ten thousand, or revert to the former pattern and add just one?

The latter would be a show of weakness—he had been the one controlling the field. To retreat to token increments would be to forfeit his dominance.

Yet fifty thousand gold leaf grass was already the limit of his ready cash; the next tranches would have to be covered by leveraging the Lan family’s reputation. Any further escalation would be anything but easy.

But these thoughts flashed through Lanliu’s mind in an instant.

Now, the contest had become a series of sharp, decisive blows.

“One Hundred Thirty-Two, sixty-five thousand gold leaf grass.” He raised his paddle.

“One Hundred One, seventy-five thousand gold leaf grass.” The other responded with unyielding force.

At this, Lanliu’s lips curved into a slight smile.

He had chosen sixty-five thousand for a reason—he’d anticipated this response. In this duel, whoever claimed the vital line of eighty thousand gold leaf grass would have the real advantage.

If his opponent reached eighty thousand first, Lanliu would have no choice but to bow out. But if he himself reached the mark, then win or lose, he would have no regrets.

The essence of this auction was that only the Student Council, as organizers, knew the true limits of each participant’s assets.

Otherwise, there would be no point in holding an auction at all; everyone might as well lay their cards on the table and let the richest win.

If Lanliu could declare eighty thousand without the slightest hesitation, his opponent would be unable to discern his true limit.

And as before—even in defeat, he could depart with a smile.

“One Hundred Thirty-Two, eighty thousand gold leaf grass.” Lanliu announced, smiling as he raised his paddle.

For a moment, no one else spoke.

In the blink of an eye, the bid had soared from fifty thousand to eighty thousand—just as swiftly as it had leapt from thirty to fifty thousand before.

The asset verification process had dramatically accelerated the auction.

And eighty thousand was well beyond the psychological limit of most present; all that remained was astonishment.

“Eighty thousand—a fine number. I knew my chosen candidates would be wealthy,” Carlotus laughed onstage. As the event’s organizer, and not merely the auctioneer, he stood to pocket nearly all the proceeds himself; how could he not be delighted?

Even Number One Hundred One, who had entered the fray so abruptly, now fell silent.

“Eighty thousand gold leaf grass, first call,” Carlotus began the familiar countdown.

“Eighty thousand, second call…”

“Eighty thousand…”

“Thi—”

“—rd…”

Carlotus stretched the third call for as long as possible; his intentions were obvious to all. But still, no one responded.

With a sigh, Carlotus raised the auctioneer’s hammer.

“One hundred thousand.” At that moment, a voice broke the silence.

Carlotus’s expression brightened; he quickly set aside the hammer and looked to the speaker.

“You’re bidding one hundred thousand?” he asked eagerly.

Of course, if the bidder dared claim it was just a spur-of-the-moment shout, Carlotus would ensure he never left the Hall of Stars.

“Nineteen, one hundred thousand.” The bidder was clearly prepared.

“But, esteemed Chairman, I have not brought so much cash with me today. May I offer an item as collateral instead?” the man asked politely.

Number Nineteen had not participated in any bidding thus far; he evidently intended to land the final blow.

Seated behind him, Lanliu quietly set down his paddle. He should have been filled with a storm of emotions, but in truth, he felt only calm.

He let out a long breath, then turned his gaze forward.

From this moment, he was merely an observer.

“What item?” Carlotus was unfazed. “If it’s a registered asset, we can set a price directly. If not, we’ll require an appraisal; we have experts present, or I can do it myself.”

“No need to trouble you, Chairman.” The man smiled.

He raised his empty right hand to his chest.

“Winter Song, the Phantom Blade, ranked three hundred seventy-fourth on the Spirit Artifact List—valued at one hundred thousand gold leaf grass. Do you have any objections, Chairman?”

A hush fell over the hall.

Lanliu sighed.

A grand gesture, truly extravagant.

Many rare pieces of equipment or items, by virtue of their mystical properties, were known as spirit artifacts. These varied widely in power and age, but to be registered and ranked on the Spirit Artifact List was a distinction in itself.

“Three hundred seventy-four,” Carlotus smiled. “If memory serves, Phantom Song belongs to the Gilded Commerce Guild, and is still in their possession. Did you acquire it by favor or by force?”

“That is not for the Chairman to know,” the man replied, eyes on Carlotus. “Since you recognize the item, you must acknowledge its value.”

“Winter Song is a cold-iron dagger. At its creation, it was merely inlaid with blue crystals, allowing it to inflict frost damage at the cost of making its wielder extremely sensitive to heat—so much so that, at any temperature above freezing, the holder would break into a sweat. Its original owner was a legendary assassin whose name has largely been forgotten, but one thing is certain: he eventually died of heatstroke-induced dehydration,” Carlotus recited with evident expertise. “Originally, Winter Song would not have qualified for the Spirit Artifact List, but the assassin’s daughter inherited it and, through her efforts, added runes and imbued the blade, making it a true spirit artifact—the Phantom Blade.”

“Once enchanted, the dagger grants its bearer invisibility lasting up to an hour—comparable to the spell of a master mage. Its frost enchantment has also been enhanced, making it a legendary and practical weapon in the hands of an assassin.”

“To my knowledge, some have used its abilities for less reputable deeds, but I must remind everyone that while its powers have grown, the drawbacks remain—and may even have worsened.”

“Anyone holding this dagger, in any environment above freezing, will find their body temperature rising in step with the ambient temperature. When facing fire-wielding opponents, this can be deadly.”

“Chairman, do you intend to auction the dagger here and now?” Number Nineteen smiled at Carlotus.

“Of course not. But standing here, old habits die hard,” Carlotus replied cheerfully. “Winter Song has no market price, as spirit artifacts of this level are rarely auctioned. Its relative worth, however, is between one and two hundred thousand gold leaf grass, given its utility and collectability.”

“So, valuing it at one hundred thousand is entirely appropriate.”

“Well then,” Carlotus surveyed the room, “we’ve reached the final ring. If anyone is still holding back, this is your last chance.”

“Does this mean we no longer need to state amounts?” someone in the front row inquired.

“If you’re bidding with items, and can’t state a cash value…”

“Of course,” Carlotus replied. “So long as you can ensure your item is more valuable than the last.”

“Excellent.” The man in the front rose.

“Number Three.”

“I, too, have something to present for your appraisal, Chairman.”

With that, he drew a glittering orb from his breast.

“The Seer’s Eye, also on the Spirit Artifact List, ranked four hundred twenty-first.”