Though she could have gone alone, how could it compare to the convenience and preferential treatment of accompanying the Crown Prince? She hated trouble more than anything—going with Xie Zhiyan meant she wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Effortless!
After waving goodbye to her grandfather and the others, Yue Fuguang followed the Crown Prince without a backward glance, leaving Wu Yong, who had hoped to tag along for some excitement, empty-handed.
The auction was held at the renowned "Treasure Pavilion" in Baiye District, a venue frequented exclusively by the wealthy and noble. Without an invitation, no amount of money could grant entry.
Yue Fuguang and Xie Zhiyan walked side by side into the auction hall. Despite it being daytime, the grand hall was brilliantly illuminated by dozens of octagonal palace lanterns, casting every corner in a light as bright as noon.
The air was thick with the rich blend of ambergris and sandalwood, enhancing the luxurious and dreamlike atmosphere of the elegantly dressed crowd.
Upstairs, private booths were veiled by mottled bamboo curtains, offering faint glimpses of their occupants—some leisurely fanning themselves, others sipping tea in silence.
Yue Fuguang followed Xie Zhiyan into the largest and most opulent private booth. The moment they entered, the Crown Prince’s attendants began serving tea and refreshments.
While waiting for the auction to begin, Yue Fuguang stepped to the wide window overlooking the floor below.
The general seating area was already packed with merchants, wealthy patrons, and even… martial artists?
Had she not seen them, Yue Fuguang might have forgotten—this was a world where ancient martial arts traditions thrived.
Chivalrous heroes existed, but she hadn’t heard much about their tales of vengeance and freedom. Was she simply uninformed?
Though the people downstairs were well-dressed, they lacked the composed demeanor of those upstairs. This wasn’t just a world of martial arts—it was also one of strict social hierarchy.
No matter how skilled a warrior, they still feared the blade of the imperial court.
"Crown Prince, do you know martial arts?"
Yue Fuguang had never seen Xie Zhiyan fight, but his upright posture and well-built physique suggested training.
A confident smile flickered across the Crown Prince’s face as he modestly replied, "I know a little."
Yue Fuguang nodded in understanding—translation: he was very skilled.
Her system couldn’t resist teasing, [Master, if he’s so strong, how did he get poisoned to death? Shouldn’t martial arts experts have internal energy to expel toxins, similar to my detox pills?]
Xie Zhiyan: Divine Artifact, must we bring up my poisoning? Is it something to boast about? And who told you internal energy could expel toxins?
Ding—
The clear chime of a bronze bell drew all eyes to the intricately carved redwood stage at the center.
Standing there was an elderly man in an indigo robe, his hair and beard white as snow, his expression serene yet commanding. The auctioneer.
Without a word, his calm gaze swept across the room, instantly silencing the murmurs until the hall was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
Ding—
Another chime announced the official start of the auction.
The first item up for bidding was a sword once wielded by a famed general of the previous dynasty.
The auctioneer’s voice, though not loud, carried effortlessly through the hall—likely amplified by internal energy.
"Cloud-Splitter Sword, starting bid: three hundred taels."
Instantly, bids rose from the floor:
"Three hundred fifty taels!"
"Four hundred!"
"Four hundred fifty!"
The calls surged like waves, climbing higher until a bearded man secured it for two thousand eight hundred taels, drawing hushed gasps from the crowd.
Yue Fuguang noted that this man differed greatly from the dashing swordsmen of films and dramas—more rugged, more… down-to-earth.
She wondered if the martial artists of this world were as free-spirited as legends claimed—and if they could be hired.
"Crown Prince, does Dayan have a martial world? Do these chivalrous figures take on commissions?"
"There are martial artists and wanderers, some affiliated with sects or gangs, others operating alone. But all fall under imperial oversight. Many make a living by working as bodyguards or estate guards for the wealthy. Does the Junior Mentor wish to hire them?"
Yue Fuguang nodded. "Just curious. As for hiring, I have ideas, but no urgent need."
"Should the need arise, let me know. I’m acquainted with some capable individuals."
Xie Zhiyan finally felt his status had practical use and secretly hoped Yue Fuguang would request assistance soon.
Earlier, while reviewing her system’s tasks, Yue Fuguang noticed several involved the martial world. Could martial artists really influence court affairs?
Ah—upon closer inspection, she understood. They had backers. That explained it.
To complete these missions smoothly, she’d need such people around to steer conversations naturally. But there was no rush—she had time.
Next came famous paintings and calligraphy, which Yue Fuguang admired without deeper appreciation.
Xie Zhiyan asked, "Junior Mentor, is there anything you’d like? I could bid for you."
She shook her head. Though exquisite, none sparked her desire to own them.
A thought struck her. ‘System, I just realized—these artworks hold little practical value for me. Their worth lies in historical and cultural significance. Once we move to another world with a different history, only their artistic merit remains.’
[Host, that’s correct.]
The following antiques and jade pieces, while valuable, failed to stir much excitement.
Until the long-awaited centerpiece arrived.
Yue Fuguang turned to Xie Zhiyan. "Is it almost time for our glass tea set?"
"The next finale item is yours."
Onstage, four attendants carried in an object veiled in bright yellow silk, placing it solemnly at the center.
The auctioneer unveiled it—a half-foot-tall white jade Guanyin statue, glowing softly under the lights.
The jade was flawless, the craftsmanship divine. The Bodhisattva’s serene expression and flowing robes seemed almost alive.
"An imperial masterpiece from the previous dynasty—the Lotus Sutra Guanyin. Starting bid: five thousand taels."
The room held its breath—then the storm broke.
"Five thousand five hundred!" A salt merchant from the southeast raised the bid by five hundred, aiming to dominate early.
"Five thousand eight hundred." A discreet jeweler from the northwest countered.
"Six thousand." A soft, southern-accented voice came from an upstairs booth, its occupant hidden behind bamboo curtains.
The price soared like a runaway steed, reaching twenty thousand taels.
Bids dwindled, leaving only two upstairs guests locked in battle.
"Twenty-two thousand." A steady, middle-aged voice from the east.
"Twenty-five thousand." A firm, elderly voice from the west countered.
The auctioneer remained composed. "West booth, twenty-five thousand taels—going once!"
