Chapter Thirty-Four: Proof of Wealth

The situation had reached an impasse. Unlike Lan Liu, who had previously increased the bid by five thousand Golden Leaf Herbs in one go, these two rivals were locked in a tedious struggle, raising the bid by merely one or two Golden Leaf Herbs at a time. If they continued at this pace, it might well be nightfall before a victor emerged.

Yet, given that the current round’s starting price was set at one Golden Leaf Herb, bidding in such small increments was perfectly within the rules—unless Carlotus, the auctioneer, decided to intervene. Judging by the unruffled student council president presiding over the auction, he had no intention of doing so.

Thus, Contestant Twelve and Contestant Six Hundred Seventy-Four began a drawn-out war of attrition, increasing their bids by one and two Golden Leaf Herbs respectively. The audience watched as the price crept ever higher, reaching twenty thousand and ninety-seven Golden Leaf Herbs before someone finally broke the stalemate.

“One hundred and one, thirty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs.”

Lan Liu turned his gaze toward this new competitor, realizing that the contest would be even fiercer than he had anticipated. Contestant Twelve was shrouded in a voluminous cloak, obscuring every detail in the dim light, but from the voice, it was a young woman. The newly arrived Contestant One Hundred and One, however, spoke with the gentle voice of a young man. Though this was an almost anonymous auction, it wasn’t truly anonymous; in all likelihood, many of them would become classmates at Nightleaf Academy in a matter of days, as Carlotus had hinted during the opening welcome.

“Six hundred seventy-four, thirty thousand and one Golden Leaf Herbs.”

“Twelve, thirty thousand and two—no, thirty thousand and three Golden Leaf Herbs.”

The two bids rang out nearly simultaneously.

Lan Liu sighed. He hadn’t expected anyone to be quite this reckless.

At the level of thirty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs, even in the Hall of Constellations, so few could afford such sums—it was almost unheard of. Then again, “almost unheard of” meant there were still a few for whom money was no object.

At that moment, Carlotus’s voice suddenly cut through the air: “Thirty thousand already? I nearly fell asleep during your bidding war.”

“If you would all wait a moment, the auction will be suspended temporarily,” he declared.

The hall fell silent. Carlotus’s authority and reputation were such that no one dared object.

“Now, does anyone else intend to offer more than thirty thousand?” Carlotus scanned the room with a smile.

No one responded immediately. Most, like Lan Liu, planned to lurk in the background until the bidding reached their intended price, only to pounce and then withdraw as soon as they’d tested the waters.

“To prevent any further malicious bidding, those who wish to continue must undergo a necessary verification of assets. While I know most of you might not have this kind of money, if you were held back, your parents would likely scrape together the funds to ransom you,” Carlotus said with a smile. “But we are a proper organization—kidnapping is out of the question.”

“I trust you understand our predicament,” the student council president added earnestly.

Yet no one dared challenge him.

Meanwhile, dozens of men and women in white had formed a line in the aisles of the Hall of Constellations, each producing a black cylindrical device and approaching the seated students for a round of rapid, one-on-one questioning.

“Name,” the white-clad young man standing before Lan Liu asked, his expression unreadable as he held the black device.

Lan Liu hesitated.

“This is a small silencing device; only we can hear each other,” the young man explained patiently.

Snow Burial Society.

Lan Liu sighed inwardly.

“I’m responsible for verifying your eligibility to bid. If you wish to withdraw, you needn’t share sensitive information with me,” the young man continued.

“Lan Liu,” he answered truthfully.

“From the Lan family?” The young man seemed surprised. “We’ve already checked your assets—let’s see.” He pulled out a small booklet and quickly leafed through it. “Fifty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs, correct? That’s quite a fortune.”

Lan Liu was astonished. “You people…”

“It’s not us,” the young man shook his head. “That’s the Heart of Crimson Pavilion’s job. We only receive the intelligence.”

Heart of Crimson Pavilion.

Lan Liu exhaled slowly. He wanted to ask just how much effort Nightleaf Academy had invested in this rather absurd auction, but in truth, with only eight hundred candidates selected for the secret boxes, it was no great feat for the Heart of Crimson Pavilion to conduct a thorough background check.

“Fifty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs—is that accurate?” the young man asked.

“Eighty—eighty thousand,” Lan Liu corrected through gritted teeth.

“That exceeds your verified capacity,” the young man replied coolly, trusting the intelligence provided by the Heart of Crimson Pavilion implicitly.

“I am of the Lan family,” Lan Liu said, staring into the young man’s eyes. “Surely, my surname is worth an extra thirty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs.”

To his surprise, the young man nodded. “You’ll have to sacrifice some pride, though.”

He was well aware of the Lan family’s influence in the Empire. For someone of Lan Liu’s background, using his surname as collateral to extend his limit by thirty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs was not difficult.

But, as he’d said, it would cost him a bit of face.

“I don’t mind,” Lan Liu replied.

“Very well.” The young man nodded, made a note in his booklet, and amended the figure.

“Eighties thousand Golden Leaf Herbs for Lan Liu, correct?”

“Any other questions?” he asked.

If not, he would move on to the next bidder.

“I do.” Lan Liu fixed him with a stare. “Why is the Snow Burial Society involved in this?”

“I’m sorry, I have no idea,” the young man shrugged. “We simply follow the president’s orders. If the president told us to storm the student council today, we’d do it without question.”

“But I must admit, this is starting to become quite interesting,” he added with a smile, pressing a button on the black device. Lan Liu felt a strange sensation lift from around him.

…

As the soundless barrier rose, Liu Ru looked with some surprise at the person before her.

“Senior?”

“You may still call me One-Two-Four-Two,” Xie Yanluo replied, expressionless.

“Do you wish to continue bidding?”

“What’s my verified limit?” Liu Ru asked directly.

“Zero.” Xie Yanluo replied without hesitation.

“So ruthless?” Liu Ru looked at her.

“The Heart of Crimson Pavilion found no background for you. No background, no proof of assets, thus a limit of zero,” Xie Yanluo explained calmly. She was not at all surprised by this outcome; the master and servant before her were simply too enigmatic.

“What if I pay in cash?” Liu Ru asked, looking at her with a pitiful expression.

“Cash? Thirty thousand Golden Leaf Herbs?” Xie Yanluo asked, intrigued.

A single Golden Leaf Herb weighed about thirty grams; ten thousand equaled three hundred kilograms. Thirty thousand would be a staggering nine hundred kilograms—nearly a ton of gold.

To be honest, Xie Yanluo was curious as to where Liu Ru could come up with that much gold.

“I don’t have thirty thousand,” Liu Ru admitted honestly.

She opened her hand to Xie Yanluo.

“I only have one.”

Resting in her palm was a solitary golden coin.

For a moment, Xie Yanluo nearly blacked out.

“You…”

“Can I use it?” Liu Ru asked.

“Yes,” Xie Yanluo replied, clutching her chest.