The air in the Golden Carp Auction House was thick and smelled of power. A mixture of the most expensive incense, the perfume of distant nobles, the leather of money purses, and the static electricity of raw ambition. Whispers were the currency before the gold began to flow; a constant murmur that formed the symphony of greed.
Then, one sound shattered it all.
The sound of the slap wasn't an echo. It was an epicenter. The delicate clink of a wine glass, slipping from numb fingers and shattering against the marble, was a thunderclap in the ensuing sepulchral stillness. Every head, from the shrewdest merchant to the most arrogant noble, turned in unison.
For 2.8 eternal seconds, no one moved. The guild guards, men whose lives were spent reacting, were frozen. Their brains tried to process an event that fit no manual: a young woman of celestial beauty, with a vortex of fiery red hair, had just slapped Lian Ren, heir to one of the largest fortunes in the city. And she had done it with purely physical force, a brutally carnal blow that resonated in everyone's chest. There was no flash of Qi, no martial aura. Just the slap of flesh and a perfect humiliation.
Kenji was the first to react, but for the first time in his life, his mind forked. One part, the dominant one forged in boardrooms, screamed: Hostile-action post-crisis management protocol initiated. Objective: secure the asset, control the narrative. But another part, one he hadn't consulted in years, whispered something else entirely. An echo of warmth in his chest that wasn't analytical, but visceral and strangely protective.
Xiao Yue's fury, a white-hot flame that had consumed her, transformed into an indifference so cold it burned hotter than any scream. Kenji approached her, moving with a deliberate calm that belied the storm inside him. He placed a hand on the small of her back—a firm touch, meant to be supportive but feeling undeniably possessive—and guided her toward the reception counter. His touch not only guided her, but it also grounded him.
His unshakeable calm and her regal authority created a bubble of power around them. Lian Ren's personal guards, who had started to move, stopped, disarmed by their absolute lack of fear.
The receptionist, a bundle of nerves, could barely stammer as she handed over the jade key.
"Box number three, in the Phoenix wing. As you requested, my lady," she said, avoiding both their gazes. "The house's finest wine and our most exquisite delicacies will be sent up immediately."
"Thank you," Xiao Yue said, her voice a tranquil melody that contrasted sharply with her earlier action.
The climb up the grand spiral staircase was an ascent through a sea of stares. Kenji felt the weight of every one. He saw Lian Ren, his perfect jade cheek now stained a furious red, his humiliation curdling into a predatory obsession. He saw Xue Li, the alchemist, whose silken smile was a frozen mask over calculated panic. And he noted the elder from the Unmoving Mountain Temple, observing it all with a serenity that was, in itself, a declaration.
But beneath all his calculations, an anomalous thought fought to surface. It was the echo of the blow, which resonated not on Lian Ren's cheek, but in his own pride. Xiao Yue's slap hadn't just defended his honor; it had restored it in a way his own intelligence never could. And as they ascended, he realized he wasn't just escorting an "asset." He was walking beside a storm, and for the first time, he didn't want to analyze it. He wanted to be in its epicenter.
The door to their private box clicked shut, soft and final, isolating them in a sanctuary of crimson silk and dark wood. The silent roar of the hall was replaced by the murmur of an unseen fountain.
As soon as the door closed, Xiao Yue's steel facade crumbled. She leaned against the wood, closed her eyes, and let out a long, trembling breath. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind the ghost of her own audacity.
Kenji watched her, and for an instant, his internal processor stalled. On a low table, a porcelain teapot steamed gently. Without a word, he poured a cup of jasmine tea and offered it to her. His fingers brushed against hers as he passed her the cup, a fleeting but electric contact.
She took the cup, the warmth a welcome steadying presence in her staggering world. The silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. It was charged with everything that had happened.
Finally, Kenji broke the silence, a rasp in his voice that betrayed the emotion simmering beneath his control.
"Xiao Yue," he began, and the simple use of her name was a shocking deviation. "Why?"
She opened her golden eyes, which shone with a fierce sincerity, and looked at him. A small smile, this time fragile and a bit mocking, pulled at the corner of her lips. She saw the confusion on his face, the struggle between his logic and what he had just witnessed.
"Are you already trying to file it away in your mind, Kenji?" she said softly, stepping closer to him. The silk of her dress whispered with the movement. "Looking for the right category... 'Impulsive Defense Protocol'?"
Her tone was gentle, but the question was a direct hit, showing how well she understood the workings of his mind.
"It wasn't a protocol," she continued, her voice firm. "It was an impulse. When he threw those coins at you... it was as if he threw them at me. Seeing him humiliate you like that... No. I couldn't allow it. No one has the right to treat you like that. Not while I'm around."
Her confession wasn't a data point. It was a direct blow to Kenji's armor. He, who prided himself on foreseeing all variables, found himself completely disarmed. The warmth he'd felt in his chest returned with a rush.
He took a step toward her, closing the small distance that remained. His hand rose, almost of its own accord, and hesitated before gently brushing her arm.
"Thank you," he murmured, the word feeling foreign and inadequate in his mouth, but absolutely necessary. He looked directly into her eyes, his own dark gaze revealing a depth he rarely allowed anyone to see. "My initial analysis was that you achieved maximum impact with minimum expense. A tactically perfect result." He paused, a flicker of self-frustration crossing his face. "But the truth… the truth is simpler. And far more important."
He swallowed, as if the next words were the hardest he had ever spoken.
"Seeing him humiliated was fine. But being defended by you…" His voice broke slightly before he found its firmness again. "That… felt satisfying. In a way no market victory ever has. It was illogical, reckless… and the most valuable thing that happened today."
Xiao Yue looked at him, seeing the naked sincerity in his eyes. No words were needed. She simply nodded, a slow, meaningful gesture. A silent pact was forged between them, stronger than any contract.
Just then, a soft gong echoed throughout the building. The auction was about to begin.
They sat by the large window, the air between them now comfortable, charged with a new certainty. The auctioneer, a charismatic man with a beard braided with gold thread, took the stage. His voice, amplified by a Qi formation, was an instrument designed to stoke greed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honorable sect masters, esteemed merchants! Welcome to the Golden Carp Auction House, where dreams have a price and fortunes change with the fall of a hammer!"
The first few lots were a warm-up. A sword forged from meteor steel. A Spirit Beast egg.
"Watch the man in the blue robes," Kenji whispered, his voice returning to its analytical tone, but now it sounded like he was sharing a secret, not dictating a report. "He's not bidding to win. He's driving up the price so the old man with the goatee has to pay more. An old family debt being settled with another's gold. Inefficient, but very human."
"And the woman in the green veil," Xiao Yue replied, joining the game. "She's not looking at the items. She's looking at the bidders. She's measuring their desperation, not their wealth."
Kenji smiled, a rare, genuine curve of his lips. "Exactly. The true value is never in the object, but in the buyer's need."
After a rare movement technique sold for an exorbitant sum, the auctioneer paused dramatically. An attendant walked onto the stage carrying a white jade box on a silk cushion. The box emanated a palpable chill.
"And now, my lords and ladies," the auctioneer said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a true treasure. A miracle of nature, a jewel plucked from the highest, coldest peaks in the world. An ingredient so rare, it has not been seen in this city in over fifty years."
He opened the box. Inside, floating on a bed of spiritual snow, was a single, perfect drop of crystalline liquid. It looked like a diamond tear.
"The Tear of a Cloud Crane!"
A murmur of awe and greed swept through the hall. It was one of the two ingredients they needed. In the box, Xiao Yue leaned forward, her heart pounding. Kenji remained motionless, but his hand slowly tightened into a fist on his knee, a silent gesture of determination.
"This is going to get ugly," Xiao Yue said quietly.
"I know," Kenji answered without taking his eyes off the stage. His gaze fixed on the figures of Lian Ren and Xue Li below. "But today isn't just about getting an ingredient. It's about proving that you don't get to touch what's ours."
Down below, Lian Ren and Xue Li exchanged a look. Their enmity, momentarily forgotten for a common goal: to ensure the woman who had defied them would not get what she wanted. The war for the future was about to begin.
The auctioneer smiled, a shark that has smelled blood in the water.
"Let the bidding," he announced, his voice ringing in the tense silence, "begin."