The golden glow from the VIP token slowly dimmed—
But the message remained etched clearly across its surface.
Auction begins tonight. Final lot — Draconic Essence. VIP entry open.
The fox stared at it for several breaths.
"So it's tonight…"
No more waiting.
No more time to prepare.
Its gaze shifted toward the lizard.
Still curled.
Still unconscious.
Lightning pulsed faintly beneath its scales, contained within the Concealment Plates. The air around it felt heavier now—denser than before.
It was close.
But not awake.
The fox exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
It stepped down from the bed.
First—control.
With a flicker of qi, it checked the defensive formation tool. Stable. Imprinted. Linked to its divine sense.
Then the Concealment Plates. All four responded smoothly. The low-fluctuation pocket remained intact.
Next—
The eight defensive talismans layered around the lizard.
Still active.
Still humming.
The fox crouched briefly beside it.
"If you wake up and I'm not here," it murmured softly, "don't break the formation barrier."
No response.
Only the slow, steady pulse of evolution.
The fox straightened.
An illusion formed around its body—fur shifting, frame shrinking, aura reshaping. Within a breath, a refined young cultivator stood in its place.
Outwardly calm.
Ordinary.
Unremarkable.
It raised a paw—no, a hand—and flexed its fingers.
Stable.
It moved to the window.
Before stepping out, it paused.
One final scan.
Its divine sense brushed the barrier edges. No foreign signatures nearby. No watchers lingering outside the inn.
Still—
That old vendor's tone echoed in its mind.
You again.
"…If someone is tracking me," the fox muttered quietly, "they won't find anything tonight."
The concealment field would swallow any residual fluctuation.
Satisfied, it slipped through the window.
The barrier rippled faintly to let it pass.
Outside—
River M was alive.
Lanterns lit.
The Night Market in full motion.
The fox leapt onto a rooftop and began moving.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Measured.
Controlled.
No unnecessary displays.
It crossed rooftops until reaching the alley that led into the Night Market's concealed path.
Then it walked through.
The Night Market buzzed louder tonight.
More cultivators.
Stronger ones.
Aura pressure subtly heavier in the air.
Whispers flowed between stalls.
The fox walked straight through the crowd.
No hesitation.
No wandering glances.
The Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion soon came into view—lanterns brighter than usual, guards visibly more alert.
It approached.
Before reaching the entrance—
An attendant appeared smoothly before it.
Sharp eyes.
Polite smile.
"Honored VIP. We have been expecting you."
The fox lifted the glowing token.
The attendant's gaze flicked to it and he bowed slightly.
"Please follow me. The private hall has already begun receiving guests."
The fox's eyes gleamed faintly beneath the illusion.
So it had already started.
Good.
The later it entered—
The more strained the bidders would be.
It stepped forward.
Into the Heavenweight Exchange Pavilion.
Tonight—
River M would reveal whether it was merely dangerous.
Or truly deadly.
The Pavilion doors closed behind it with a soft, deliberate thud.
The noise of the Night Market dulled instantly.
Inside, the atmosphere was different tonight.
Heavier.
Not loud—no shouting, no chaos—
But dense.
The attendant led the fox down a corridor it had never taken before. Unlike the public auction path, this one was narrower, its dark wooden walls inlaid with subtle formation carvings.
The fox's divine sense brushed them lightly.
Monitoring arrays.
Defensive inscriptions.
Sound isolation formations.
Even the Pavilion was cautious.
Good.
They turned once.
Then again.
Finally, they stopped before a pair of tall black doors etched with a faint dragon motif.
The attendant paused.
"VIP guests are seated in private partitions. Your identity will remain concealed. Bidding may be conducted through voice transmission or light signal."
He stepped aside.
"The final lot will be presented last. Estimated time—two hours."
The fox gave a slight nod.
The doors opened silently.
Inside—
The private auction hall.
Smaller than the public chamber.
Circular.
Tiered.
Each guest seated behind a semi-transparent screen that distorted form and suppressed aura.
Even so—
The fox felt it.
Several sixth-layer cultivators.
At least one presence deeper than that—restrained, but unmistakable.
Foundation Establishment peak.
Possibly half-step Core Formation.
The fox's pupils thinned.
River M…
It stepped into its assigned partition.
The screen shimmered, activating fully. Its illusion was layered beneath the Pavilion's concealment. Even divine sense would struggle to penetrate both.
It sat.
Calm.
Still.
On the central platform below, a woman in deep blue robes stepped forward.
Not the ghost-faced attendant from before.
Someone higher in rank.
Her gaze swept the room once.
"We welcome our honored guests," she said evenly. "Tonight's private session includes restricted materials and bloodline-tier items."
A subtle stir passed through the hall.
No one spoke.
But aura pressure shifted faintly.
The fox leaned back slightly.
Composed.
Watching.
The first items were high-grade herbs.
Ancient beast bones.
A damaged spirit artifact from a fallen sect.
Bidding escalated rapidly each time.
Spirit stones were exchanged as though weightless.
The fox did not move.
Did not bid.
It waited.
Observed.
Counted fluctuations.
Measured reactions.
One partition to the left reacted strongly to bloodline-related items.
Another remained still until defensive artifacts appeared.
One presence—
Far right.
Silent.
No fluctuation at all.
That one was dangerous.
Time passed.
One hour.
Then—
The host's tone shifted.
"The next item…"
A pause.
The air changed.
Even the formation array overhead dimmed slightly.
"Recovered from a collapsed ruin beyond the Northern Ridge."
An attendant stepped forward carrying a sealed jade container. The container itself radiated suppression inscriptions.
The fox's heartbeat slowed.
Not quickened.
Slowed.
Deliberate.
"The partial crystallized marrow essence of a True Dragon."
The hall went still.
Not noisy—
Still.
The fox felt it clearly.
Three distinct surges of sixth-layer aura.
One deeper pulse.
Quickly restrained.
The jade container was placed on the pedestal.
The seals loosened.
A faint pressure leaked out.
Ancient.
Wild.
Majestic.
Lightning flickered faintly within.
The fox's eyes gleamed.
Not with greed.
With calculation.
"…So it's real."
The host continued calmly.
"Bidding begins at fifteen thousand spirit stones."
No hesitation.
"Twenty thousand."
A distorted voice.
"Twenty-five."
"Thirty."
The fox did not move.
It watched the pattern.
Who jumped quickly.
Who raised cautiously.
Who remained silent.
This was not about impulse.
It was about endurance.
And when the moment came—
It would not hesitate.
Tonight—
Either it would walk out holding draconic essence.
Or River M would become a battlefield.
"Thirty-five thousand."
The bid came steady. Controlled.
"Forty."
Another voice—deeper.
Unwavering.
The fox remained motionless within its partition.
At the center of the stage, the jade container rested beneath layered suppression arrays. Within it, faint arcs of lightning flickered through the marrow essence. Even restrained, it radiated pressure that pressed subtly against the senses.
Ancient.
Dominant.
Not pure True Dragon—
—but close enough to matter.
"Forty-five thousand."
That came from the silent partition on the far right.
The one that had not reacted earlier.
The fox's eyes narrowed slightly.
So that one had been waiting.
"Fifty thousand."
A sixth-layer beast cultivator. The aura spike was sharp—impatient.
The host smiled faintly.
"Fifty thousand spirit stones. Do I hear—"
"Sixty."
Clean.
Immediate.
No rise in tone.
The fox finally moved.
Its voice transmitted calmly through the VIP token.
"Seventy."
A subtle shift passed through the hall.
Not loud.
But attention realigned.
The host's gaze flicked briefly toward the fox's partition.
"Seventy thousand."
The impatient sixth-layer hesitated.
The far-right silent bidder did not.
"Eighty."
The fox did not rush.
It counted three breaths.
"Ninety."
Pressure thickened in the room.
Even through suppression screens, intent began to leak.
For the first time, the foundation-peak presence stirred.
"One hundred thousand."
Silence followed.
That was not the fox.
That was the deeper one.
Measured.
Confident.
A warning bid.
The fox's tail flicked once behind the screen.
So.
That one had entered.
It leaned back slightly.
Calculated.
Remaining reserves after expenses.
Projected escalation thresholds.
Likelihood of conflict after departure.
Then—
Calmly.
"One hundred and twenty thousand."
A sharp ripple moved through the hall.
That was not a step.
That was a declaration.
The impatient sixth-layer withdrew immediately.
The far-right silent bidder paused.
The foundation-peak presence did not respond at once.
The host's eyes sharpened.
"One hundred and twenty thousand spirit stones."
A beat.
Then—
"One hundred and forty."
The foundation-peak.
Still steady.
Still controlled.
The fox's eyes gleamed faintly.
So this was the real opponent.
It did not answer immediately.
Instead, it observed the cadence of the bidder's aura.
No strain.
No fluctuation.
Meaning—
They had more.
But were probing.
Testing limits.
The fox spoke again.
"One hundred and sixty."
Now the hall truly stilled.
Even behind layers of concealment, killing intent flickered faintly from two partitions.
This time, the foundation-peak bidder hesitated.
The pause stretched.
Long enough for tension to tighten into something sharp.
The fox remained perfectly composed.
If pushed higher—
It would need to decide whether to overextend.
And if it overextended—
River M would not sleep peacefully tonight.
Finally—
The foundation-peak voice returned.
"One hundred and seventy thousand."
The fox's pupils thinned.
So they would not yield easily.
Good.
It preferred certainty to bluff.
It inhaled once.
Exhaled slowly.
Then said—
"One hundred and ninety thousand."
No incremental rise.
No courtesy step.
A leap.
The host's expression tightened almost imperceptibly.
The hall fell silent.
Completely.
Even the foundation-peak presence did not answer at once.
The fox waited.
Still.
Unmoving.
If they bid again—
This would become personal.
If they did not—
The draconic essence would be its.
Three breaths passed.
Four.
Five.
Then—
The foundation-peak aura receded slightly.
Contained.
Controlled.
No further bid.
The host lifted her voice.
"One hundred and ninety thousand spirit stones."
"Going once."
Silence.
"Going twice."
A long pause.
The fox did not move.
"Sold."
The gavel struck.
A dull.
Final.
Sound.
The jade container's seals reactivated.
The fox's eyes gleamed faintly behind the partition screen.
It had won.
But around the circular hall—
Auras had shifted.
Not with admiration.
Not with indifference.
But with recognition.
And interest.
Tonight—
The real auction had only just begun.