Chapter Fourteen

Tianyun Pavilion and Kunlun are so closely connected that the three of them naturally have access to a private box here. Upon entering, they were greeted by lovely female cultivators in the Qi Refining stage. Their cultivation levels were not high, and their attire was tasteful. If Li Mengze hadn’t known these women were trained as furnaces, she would have mistaken them for Kunlun disciples temporarily assigned here, just like the two senior brothers guarding the entrance.

Such female cultivators were a common sight in all the major venues; in fact, many women in the cultivation world made their living this way. The cultivation world itself boasted many famous brothels and pleasure houses, where resident female cultivators were raised from childhood, not only possessing rare beauty but also practicing dual-cultivation techniques. This allowed both pleasure and advancement in cultivation, making them popular and forming relationships of mutual consent.

Many cultivators kept several confidantes in these places, and the women were in high demand. No one was forced to stay—once they reached a certain level of cultivation or found a cultivator they favored, they could leave freely. Few did, though, since the techniques they practiced from a young age made them dependent on the nourishment of male cultivators.

Li Mengze had no opinion on their choices; these women never had a say in what techniques they practiced. They came from humble backgrounds, recruited from small villages by the great families behind these establishments. Their spiritual roots were average at best.

Led by two female cultivators, they ascended to the second floor and entered a private box midway down the right side. From the outside it seemed modest in size, but once inside, Li Mengze realized her naïveté: here, nothing should be taken at face value.

The thirty-square-meter room appeared much larger thanks to spatial formations—its height unfathomable, the scant furnishings neat and elegant, exuding an air of refined luxury. Had she not become accustomed to fine things over the years, she might have tried to touch the pale yellow glowing wallpaper to see what rare material it was made from.

On the table, spirit wine and juice sat beside several plates of second-grade spirit fruit—ordinary, but a clear sign of the auction house’s attention to detail.

Once they sat, their hostess presented three jade slips. “Honored guests, inside are the auction items for this session. I’ll be waiting outside—please call if you need anything.” With a bow, she stepped back and left.

Ba Yicheng smiled, “The items this time are quite good. Yuanyuan, Ze’er, if anything catches your eye, let your senior brother gift it to you.” This was no boast. As the chief disciple of Cangjian Peak, and all but certain to succeed as its master, Ba Yicheng was also a scion of the renowned Cheng family—perhaps not as ancient as the Wei clan, but on par with the Han and Feng families. He was never short on spirit stones; buying one or two treasures at auction was hardly a stretch for him.

Wen Yuanyuan and Li Mengze took the jade slips, “Thank you for your generous offer, senior brother.”

It was Li Mengze’s first time at such an auction. She’d attended an exchange for Golden Core cultivators with her father as a child, but not an actual auction. At that event, Li Yunran had traded a spiritual tool nearly at treasure level for a fifth-grade spirit flower—one that bloomed eternally and enhanced beauty—then gifted it to his wife. Li Mengze, then just a small child, remembered little except that, after returning home, her mother had personally cooked a sumptuous spiritual meal to reward her father. Evidently, no woman—cultivator or mortal—could resist a man’s floral overtures.

This auction featured forty-five treasures, with three finale items. The first, a fifth-grade Spirit-Fixing Pill, was precious not for its grade but its rarity; Li Mengze hadn’t heard of one on the market for a hundred years. The competition would be fierce—after all, for women, beauty was always paramount.

The second was the Soul-Fixing Pearl, which could be stored in one’s dantian. If the soul was injured, it could reside in the pearl for recuperation. For orthodox cultivators, its value was self-evident; for demonic cultivators, it could be used to refine corpses, anchoring the soul of a deceased cultivator and preserving a shred of consciousness—making it even more valuable to them. Li Mengze was somewhat tempted, but seeing the likely high price and knowing she already had a soul-preserving function in her spatial artifact, she decided to pass.

As for the third item, Li Mengze had even less interest—it was a top-grade spiritual treasure that attacked divine sense and could be upgraded. Such weapons were rare, but not unattainable; however, one that targeted the mind was something else entirely. The reason she refused was simple: she recognized the craftsman—her own father. There was no sense in bidding high for something her father had put up for auction. If she wanted one, a simple request would have her doting father deliver an even better one.

None of the finale items interested her; she was more intrigued by some of the earlier lots, which would be less expensive and useful for practice.

When she set the jade slip down, Wen Yuanyuan did the same with a sigh, lovingly stroking her storage pouch. “My dear treasure, you might not make it through today. Don’t worry, your big sister will work hard to win you back.” The pitiful look hardly suited her beautiful face. Both Li Mengze and Ba Yicheng were curious—Wen Yuanyuan, though from a mortal family, was famous in Kunlun for her skill in amassing spirit stones. Though they didn’t know her exact wealth, it was certainly no less than theirs, especially since she was the most talented weaponsmith among them.

Such a mournful expression over a handful of spirit stones suggested she had her sights set on something major.

“Junior sister, what caught your eye?” Ba Yicheng left the question hanging—perhaps she just wanted something small, and it was always possible to coax a stingy person into loosening their purse strings. Ba Yicheng himself was always generous with his juniors, but expecting Wen Yuanyuan to part with her spirit stones was another matter.

Li Mengze was curious too, her eyes darting between Wen Yuanyuan’s face and her pouch.

“It’s the Yu King Cauldron. The furnace I use for refining is the one master gave me as a beginner. It can’t withstand the pill fire anymore—one more session and it might explode.” She looked so pitiful, as if it was the cauldron’s fault.

Li Mengze and Ba Yicheng exchanged looks of disbelief. She’d used a basic refining furnace from the Qi Refining stage all the way to Golden Core, and now blamed it for wearing out? How frugal could one be?

Ba Yicheng folded his hands, “Junior sister, you have my utmost admiration. To craft top-grade spiritual tools with an ordinary furnace for nearly a century—you’re a true genius among geniuses.” Li Mengze silently offered the same gesture. Such thrift in a Golden Core cultivator was rare indeed. Judging by her senior sister’s immaculate attire, Li Mengze suspected that, if not for another style-conscious junior sister who made sure they all dressed well, Wen Yuanyuan might be the only Kunlun woman with just one set of sect robes.

Thanks to their junior sister—or perhaps because she knew her so well, she always prepared extra clothing in advance.

The three of them chatted until the clear sound of gongs rang out from outside, and the noise from the first-floor hall subsided. Looking down from the second floor, Li Mengze saw a female cultivator had appeared on the stage. When she glanced at Ba Yicheng, she realized she couldn’t gauge the woman’s cultivation.

Ba Yicheng nodded toward the stage, “That’s Yin Taohong, ranked third in Red Sleeve House.”

Though Ba Yicheng’s face was calm, Li Mengze could sense his disdain. For sword cultivators like them, those who sought shortcuts rather than steadfast cultivation were considered heretical, not worth mentioning.

But Ba Yicheng’s view was in the minority. As soon as the woman appeared, the ground floor fell silent—not only because everyone was eager for the auction to begin, but also because of her beauty.

The hostess’s voice rang out, lively and sweet, “Greetings, fellow cultivators. I am Yin Taohong. Some of you may know me already. I am honored to preside over this auction on behalf of Tianyun Pavilion. I won’t waste words—everyone knows the rules here. If you cause trouble, consider whether you’re up to it.” With that, she released the pressure of a Golden Core cultivator—a clear warning.

Fortunately, the guests below were mostly below Golden Core, with only a few unaffiliated Golden Core cultivators. No one resisted, and the private boxes on the second floor, reserved for Tianyun Pavilion’s honored guests, were all protected by barriers, so the pressure didn’t reach them. Otherwise, Yin Taohong would never dare be so brazen—for while she might not fear the pavilion, she certainly couldn’t afford to offend its guests.