Luo Fan remained motionless throughout the latter half of the auction, his focus detached from the treasures below as he quietly absorbed every detail about the girl. He sipped his tea with an air of profound patience, the steam coiling like faint, whispering spirits around his lips. Only when Merchants King Yan entered, quietly guiding the chained girl before him, did Luo Fan's gaze shift—cool, penetrating, and utterly assessing.
"Merchants King Yan," Luo Fan murmured, his voice so low it seemed to drink the light from the room. "Tell me. Her name is Yan Qingying, correct? Once a disciple of the Ancient Demonic Sect… ambushed and annihilated three years ago, just as it was written in the records."
The king bowed slightly, his posture rigid with deference. "You are correct, Young Lord."
A faint, knowing smile touched Luo Fan's lips. She has the tragic past of a protagonist, he mused inwardly. In his previous life, he had devoured countless cultivation novels—tales of chosen heroes, heaven-defying rises, and fated revenges. In this world, he knew such destinies were real. And perhaps… she would be one. A thread of beautiful chaos he could pull for his own amusement.
A desire surfaced within him—clean, sharp, undeniable. I wish to know. I wish to see through all things.
[Ding. Master has received 'Supreme Mind of All' & 'Supreme Sense of Truth'.]
[Supreme Mind of All: The capacity to access all knowledge across all realms. Not unlimited omniscience, but the ability to retrieve any information you seek—like a boundless library awaiting your command.]
[Supreme Sense of Truth: Nothing remains hidden from you. Illusions dissolve, formations unveil their cores, and all falsehoods crumble beneath your perception.]
Luo Fan's smile deepened. These were not burdens—they were instruments, extensions of his will. The sheer control thrilled him, a warm current of satisfaction spreading through his chest. He didn't realize how visibly the emotion showed until he noticed Merchants King Yan watching him with a mix of curiosity and unease.
What is the Young Lord thinking? the king wondered, not daring to voice the question.
Elsewhere, in the Sword King's private chamber on the second floor, the air was thick with suppressed frustration. The Sword King's face was shadowed, his knuckles bone-white where they gripped the armrests. Yet in his heart, he knew he had chosen rightly. He was a man of strength, not subtlety—but he was no fool. That voice from the third floor had carried a pressure that threatened to crush his soul. To refuse would have meant death.
In other rooms, powerful figures from across the realms exchanged tense, weighted glances. A Young Lord of the Upper Realm—here, in the flesh. Who was he? Would he reveal himself? If there was even the slightest chance to win his favor, none would let it slip away.
Beneath the pavilion, in a dimly lit holding cell, Yan Qingying waited inside her cage. Her eyes were closed, but her mind raced. The Young Lord… What kind of person is he…?
At that moment, a second consciousness stirred within her—a soul identical in appearance but older, wiser, almost translucent in its grace. It materialized before her mind's eye, serene and elegant.
"From what I sensed," the soul whispered, her voice like chimes in a still wind, "that Young Lord is undoubtedly from the Upper Realm. Do not fear. He may sense something unusual about you, but even he could not perceive that we are two souls sharing one body."
Just then, the door opened without sound. Four maids entered, flanking a young woman who stood with natural authority. She was Yan Yue, the sole heir of the Yan Thousand Merchants Group—her robes finer, her posture prouder. A flicker of jealousy passed through her eyes as she looked at Yan Qingying.
"By order of the Merchants King," Yan Yue announced, her voice cool and precise, "you are to be bathed and clothed before you are presented to the Young Lord. He will be your master from this moment forward."
Yan Qingying said nothing as she was led to an opulent bathing chamber. The air hung thick with the scent of spiritual herbs and night-blooming flowers. The maids worked in silence, undressing her, guiding her into a vast pool of milky, enchanted water. They scrubbed her skin with oils that made it gleam, fed her pills that warmed her from within, and massaged her limbs until she felt both purified and laid bare.
As the water swirled around her, Yan Qingying lifted her eyes to Yan Yue, who observed with arms crossed. "May I ask… who is the Young Lord?"
Yan Yue's expression softened almost imperceptibly. It would not do to offend someone who now belonged to him. "His surname is Luo," she replied. "My father told me that when he finally reached the Yin Clan in the Upper Realm—after centuries of silence—they responded immediately upon hearing that name. They said only: 'Serve the Luo well.'" Her tone made it clear that even she knew little more.
Luo? That clan?! The soul within Yan Qingying shuddered, her ethereal form swaying with sudden reverence.
"You know of them?" Yan Qingying asked inwardly.
The soul's voice was hushed with awe. "It seems fortune has favored us at last. The Young Lord of Luo is the sole descendant of the Luo Clan—the most mysterious and publicly acknowledged strongest clan in the Upper Realm."
Yan Qingying fell silent, absorbing this. She was scrubbed, rinsed, anointed, and dressed in robes of silk so fine they felt like moonlight upon her skin. Every part of her—inside and out—had been perfected for presentation.
The grand banquet below was a rising tide of chatter and clinking cups, a stark contrast to the heavy silence of the second floor and the profound stillness of the third. Luo Fan remained seated on his dark jade throne, the delicate porcelain cup warm in his hand as he took another slow sip of tea. The fragrance was subtle, ancient—a blend meant only for those who could taste the threads of destiny within it.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
Merchants King Yan, who had been standing at a respectful distance, bowed deeply. "Young Lord, Yan Qingying has arrived. Do you wish to see her now?"
Luo Fan gave a slight, unhurried nod.
With a controlled flow of qi, the Merchant King eased the door open.
There she stood, framed by the doorway. Dressed in flowing black silk that clung to her form like a second skin, Yan Qingying seemed both elegant and vulnerable. The attire was masterfully tailored, accentuating the curve of her waist, the pale grace of her neck, the dark intensity of her hair. She took a few steps into the room before halting, her posture tense but unwavering.
Luo Fan turned.
And Yan Qingying's breath caught.
She had heard tales of divine beauty, of cultivators whose features were carved by heavenly jade and starlight—but nothing could have prepared her for him. His face was perfection given form: sharp yet gentle lines, eyes that held universes, a presence so overwhelming it felt like standing at the edge of an abyss. Her heart hammered against her ribs. If she were an ordinary girl, she knew she would have already fallen to her knees, begging to be his—if only he would glance her way.
"Your name is Yan Qingying, correct?" Luo Fan's voice was calm, melodic, yet it carried a weight that made the air itself seem to bend.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment before shifting slightly—to the space just beside her. To where her second soul hovered, invisible to all.
Wait… He can see me? The soul recoiled, her form flickering with shock and dread. Was that a coincidence… or does he truly perceive me?
"Y-Yes," Yan Qingying stammered, her voice softer than intended. "I am Yan Qingying."
Merchants King Yan flinched. Sweat beaded on his temples, dampening the rich fabric at his back. This foolish girl… She speaks so plainly to the Young Lord! Does she want to get us all killed?
But before the king could interject, Yan Qingying dropped gracefully to her knees. The movement was not one of fear, but of purpose.
"This lowly servant knows the Young Lord is from the Luo Clan of the Upper Realm," she said, her voice growing steadier. "I do not know what worthless quality of mine attracted your attention… but I wish to ask something of you."
Merchant King Yan's legs trembled. He gripped the edge of a nearby table to keep from collapsing. How dare she… How dare she make demands of him…
Yan Qingying lifted her gaze, her ruby eyes locking with Luo Fan's without a trace of fear. "If the Young Lord fulfills this lowly one's wish… I will serve you with all my heart and soul. I will follow you from beginning to end without question. I will be your tool, your toy… whatever you desire me to be."
The silence that followed was thicker than blood, heavier than mountain stone. All that moved was the faint steam rising from Luo Fan's tea.