The streets of Wu Tan City were alive with the midday rush. rchants shouted, carriages rattled, and the air slled of roasted at and dust.
In the middle of this chaotic tapestry walked a figure that drew eyes for all the wrong reasons.
Yoriichi, dressed in the fine, crimson silk robes of a Xiao Clan Young Master, was walking with the grace of a swordsman. His posture was upright, his gaze calm.
However, slung over his shoulder was a massive, lumpy cloth sack that looked like it had been stolen from a potato farr.
Clink. Clank.
The bag rattled with every step.
"Look at that," a street vendor whispered to his custor, pointing a greasy ladle. "Isn't that the First Elder's grandson? Xiao Ning?"
"It is," the custor snickered, hiding a smile behind her fan. "What is he doing carrying that trash bag? Did he get kicked out? Or maybe he lost a bet at the brothel?"
"Shh! Don't let him hear you. But... it does look comical. A silk-pants young master acting like a porter."
Laughter rippled secretly through the crowd. To them, it was a scene of a fallen noble humiliating himself.
Yoriichi noticed the stares. He heard the whispers.
He didn't care.
"The bag is heavy with tal and ceramic," Yoriichi thought, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "But to , it is lighter than a feather. What weighs a man down is not the load on his back, but the emptiness of his purpose."
He walked for ten minutes, his expression stoic and unbothered, until the looming structure of the Miteer Auction House appeared before him.
It was a magnificent building, dod with gold and guarded by n in polished armor. It radiated wealth. This was the heart of comrce in Wu Tan City, a place where fortunes were made and lost in the span of a gavel strike.
Yoriichi walked up the marble steps. The guards recognized the red robes of the Xiao Clan and stepped aside, though their eyes lingered curiously on the potato sack.
He entered the grand lobby.
Cool air, scented with expensive sandalwood, washed over him. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the chandeliers above.
Yoriichi ignored the grandeur. He scanned the room and located the counter marked "Appraisals & Consignnt."
He walked over. A middle-aged appraiser and a young female receptionist were stationed there. They looked bored, flipping through a ledger.
Thud.
Yoriichi dropped the heavy bag onto the pristine mahogany counter.
The receptionist jumped. The appraiser adjusted his spectacles, looking up with a frown that quickly smoothed into a professional, albeit strained, smile when he saw the clan insignia.
"Welco, Young Master Xiao," the appraiser said. "How may the Miteer Auction House serve you today?"
"I am here to sell," Yoriichi stated simply.
He reached into the bag.
First, he pulled out a bundle of herbs—Blue Spirit Grass, Blood Clotting Flowers.
Then, he pulled out a handful of jade bottles. "Tier 1 Healing Pills. High, Mid, and Low quality."
The appraiser's eyebrow twitched. "Did he rob a pharmacy?"
Then ca the artifacts—strange jade pendants, a broken compass, a few glowing stones. These were the "tributes" from the bullies that Yoriichi had deed useless for his cultivation.
"And finally," Yoriichi said.
He pulled out the weapons.
First, the Tier 1 Wind Sword. It glead with a pale, gray light. Next, the Heavy Broadsaber. Dark and nacing. Finally, the pair of Cold Iron Daggers.
The appraiser's eyes sharpened. He was a professional; he knew quality when he saw it. He picked up the Wind Sword, sliding it halfway out of its rough scabbard.
Shing.
A faint hum vibrated through the air. The receptionist felt a small breeze ruffle her hair.
"Oh?" The appraiser murmured, leaning in close. "The grain... it's folded. This isn't cast iron. This is forged. And the attribute... pure Wind."
He looked at Yoriichi, surprise evident in his eyes.
"Young Master, where did you acquire these? The craftsmanship is... remarkably solid. It resembles Master Tie Shan's work, yet the tempering is different. Cleaner."
"I made them," Yoriichi lied—or rather, told a half-truth. He didn't want to explain the joint effort. "Just appraise them."
The appraiser paused, clearly skeptical that a playboy could forge steel, but he rembered the Manager's orders. Manager Ya Fei said to treat the Xiao Clan well because of that mysterious Alchemist guest.
He cleared his throat.
"Very well. The herbs are standard. The pills are decent currency. But these weapons..." He tapped the sword. "This is a High Tier 1 weapon. It could easily be used by a peak Dou Zhe."
He did a quick ntal calculation.
"Young Master, the total estimated value of these items is at least 10,000 gold coins. We can buy the herbs and artifacts directly for 2,000. But the pills and weapons... if you auction them, the bidding could drive the price much higher. What do you think?"
Yoriichi nodded calmly. He had expected less, honestly.
"Sell them in the auction," Yoriichi decided.
"Excellent," the appraiser bead. "Since our standard commission is 5%, for a valued guest of the Xiao Clan, we will offer a rate of 4%. Is this acceptable?"
"It is," Yoriichi agreed. "When do I collect the money?"
"The auction begins in a few minutes, Young Master," the appraiser gestured to the main hall doors. "You are in good ti indeed. You can sit inside. If you wish to bid on anything, simply raise your paddle. We can deduct the cost from your final earnings."
"I understand. Thank you."
Yoriichi accepted the number plate handed to him—Number 47—and walked towards the auction hall.
He found a seat in the middle row. The hall was designed like an amphitheater, dimly lit to focus attention on the illuminated stage. It was crowded with rcenaries, clan elders, and rchants, all buzzing with anticipation.
Yoriichi sat quietly, his hands resting on his knees, blending into the shadows.
Clang!
A golden gavel struck the podium. The auction began.
A beautiful auctioneer in a red dress walked onto the stage, her voice amplified by a sound-array.
"Welco, esteed guests! Today we have a wonderful selection of treasures from across the Jia Ma Empire!"
The first item was brought out on a velvet cushion.
"To start us off, a Rank 2 Water Snake Core!"
The crowd murmured appreciatively. A Rank 2 core was valuable for alchemists and for forging water-attribute weapons.
"Starting bid: 400 gold coins!"
"500!" "600!" "800!"
The bidding was fierce. A fat rchant in the front row waved his paddle aggressively, shouting, "900! My daughter needs this for her cultivation!"
Yoriichi watched with detached interest.
"Beast Cores... dense energy," he analyzed. "But useless for technique. I need raw tal for blade."
The core sold for 1,100 gold coins.
Next ca a set of Tier 1 Armor. It was made of Black Iron scales.
"Lightweight! Durable! Perfect for rcenaries hunting in the Magic Beast Mountains!" the auctioneer crooned.
"1,500!" "2,000!"
It sold quickly. Yoriichi noted the prices. "Armor is expensive. Defense is valued higher than offense here."
Then ca a strange item—a scroll.
"A remnant of a Yellow Class High Rank Movent Technique: The shadow Step!"
The crowd gasped. Movent techniques were rare.
"Starting bid: 5,000 gold coins!"
"6,000!" "8,000!"
Yoriichi raised an eyebrow. "A fragnt of a movent technique sells for that much? My Flash Dance is superior, yet it cost nothing but sweat."
He watched as the price climbed to 12,000 gold coins, finally sold to an elder from a minor clan.
It was educational. He was learning the economy of this world. Strength cost money. Survival cost a fortune.
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