Chapter 109 - The Scholarly Sword Intent
In Room Three, Elder Cang of Alchemy Peak sat forward, his eyes shining with determination. He had been searching for exactly this kind of treasure to aid his alchemy breakthrough. This ancient broken cauldron was the perfect answer.
"One hundred and fifty thousand," a voice from the floor called out.
"Two hundred thousand," Elder Cang bid through his array.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand," a cold, refined female voice countered from Room Five. It was Elder Yu of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect. She was equally eager to study the ancient Green Lotus Valley’s secret methods.
"Two hundred and eighty thousand," another alchemist on the main floor bid, refusing to yield.
"Three hundred thousand spirit stones!" Elder Cang announced, his voice echoing through the communication array with absolute determination.
"Three hundred and twenty thousand," Elder Yu countered immediately, her tone calm and unyielding.
In Room Three, Elder Cang gritted his teeth, his hand tightening over his token. This was no longer just about the cauldron. It was a battle of prestige between the alchemical peaks of the two great sects. He already knew who she was. And he was not going to lose.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand!" Elder Cang called out, his voice carrying the full weight of his resolve.
Inside Room Five, Elder Yu stared at the communication screen for a long moment. A sigh escaped her lips as she slowly released her grip on the bidding token. The price of three hundred and fifty thousand spirit stones was far too high for a cracked vessel, even with its prestigious history. She had other priorities tonight.
The hall fell silent. The remaining alchemists looked at each other and slowly lowered their tokens, unwilling to match such a massive sum for a cracked vessel.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand spirit stones, going once," Elder Feng said, looking around the hall. "Going twice. Sold to Room Three!"
Inside Room Nine, Su Ming watched the final gavel fall with a calm expression. The broken alchemical relic held not much value for him, and he was content to keep his remaining funds secure.
***
"Let us move to the next item," Elder Feng announced, his voice echoing with renewed energy. He gestured to the attendants, who quickly cleared the pedestal.
A long, silk-covered tray was brought onto the stage. When the cover was removed, it revealed a broken iron sword. The blade was snapped in half, its steel dark and pitted with rust. At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a scrap of metal. Yet, as Elder Feng stepped closer, his expression grew solemn and full of respect.
"Honored guests, what lies before you is no ordinary weapon," Elder Feng proclaimed, his hands gesturing grandly to the stage. "This is the Cold Ink Broken Sword. It was forged and carried by a legendary scholar-swordsman of the ancient era who walked the path of a Sword Saint."
"Though it is broken and the passage of time has worn the metal, a faint sword intent still lingers within its core. For anyone walking the path of the sword, comprehending this remnant intent could provide the final spark needed to break through their bottlenecks and ascend to the rank of Sword Saint. The bidding starts at two hundred thousand spirit stones."
A stir ran through the crowd, especially among the sword cultivators. Even though the sword intent radiating from the rusted steel was faint and weak, the potential to touch the path of a Sword Saint was a rare opportunity.
Inside Room Nine, Su Ming stared at the stage. He focused his Essence Sight, channeling his vision to peer through the thick rust covering the broken blade. Beneath the pitted metal, he caught a glimpse of the remnant sword intent, a series of faint, black threads of ink that hummed with a quiet, scholarly aura.
The moment his Essence Sight locked onto those ink-black threads, a dull ache cut through his mind and a sudden vibration rippled through his storage ring. Deep within his storage space, the Immortal Wang Tablet was humming.
Su Ming’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the dark, ink-like Sword Intent and felt a touch of regret. If he had enough spirit stones to win the blade and spend some time studying it, he was certain he could master the unique sword path lingering within the blade and maybe even break through in his own sword path. However, with barely fifty-five thousand spirit stones remaining, he could only watch as others fought for it.
He turned off his Essence Sight as the pain reduced and closed his eyes.
’Could the secrets of the Immortal Wang Tablet be related to a sword intent?’ Su Ming wondered, his mind working rapidly. ’It reacted to the sword physique, so it might as well be that the next step is a sword intent.’
’Tch..tch..tech...I will need to learn the sword intent soon.’
He leaned back, his eyes fixed on the stage as the bidding began.
Behind the light screen of Room Eight, Shen Tianyu stood up, his hands gripping the wooden railing. His knuckles were white. Having lost the desolate seeds, the meteorite core, the alchemical slip, and the Wang Go painting, he was desperate to secure this sword. If he returned to the Nine Rivers Clan with nothing, his reputation would be utterly ruined.
"Two hundred and fifty thousand!" Shen Tianyu announced, his voice projecting through the communication array with desperate force.
"Three hundred thousand," a calm voice countered from Room Ten. It was Elder Jing of Sword Peak, his gaze fixed on the broken blade.
"Three hundred and fifty thousand!" Shen Tianyu countered immediately, his face twisting with frustration.
"Four hundred thousand," Elder Jing replied without hesitation.
Shen Tianyu gritted his teeth, his breathing growing heavy as he stared at the screen. "Four hundred and twenty thousand!"
"Four hundred and fifty thousand," Elder Jing bid, his tone flat and unyielding.
In Room Eight, Shen Tianyu stared at the communication token in a stupor. His advisor stepped forward, gently pulling his hand away from the token. "Young Master, we do not have enough funds to bid higher. We must stop."
Shen Tianyu let out a low, ragged breath. He slowly let go of the token, his eyes burning with a deep rage. Having lost every single target he had pursued, he was left with nothing but humiliation. He glared toward Room Nine, convinced that the mysterious buyer in that room had started his string of failures.
"I will make him pay," Shen Tianyu whispered, his voice shaking with hatred.
"Four hundred and fifty thousand spirit stones, going once," Elder Feng announced, raising his gavel. "Going twice. Sold to Room Ten!"