CHAPTER 108 — SHADOWS AND WHISPERS
The hall hadn't finished with the last moment.
People still sat turned in their seats, shoulders angled toward the place where Varian had tried to speak and failed. The air hadn't cleared. It lingered, thin and watchful, as though something unseen had paused mid-breath and refused to release it.
The host stepped forward and cleared his throat a little too loudly, the sound cutting awkwardly through the quiet.
Well, he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite hold. That was spirited. Now… hehe… how personal.
No one laughed.
He coughed into his fist, the smile slipping before he pressed forward.
Lot two.
A servant uncovered the item on display. A worn scroll lay across the platform, its edges darkened with age, the ink faded but intact enough to suggest something that had endured far longer than it should have.
A cultivation manual. Fragmented. Recovered from an ancient ruin, origin unknown.
He slowed, letting attention settle where it naturally would.
It forms a shadow vassal within the user's shadow. A binding method. It creates a connection with an entity capable of independent action.
That was enough.
Interest deepened, quiet and controlled, like a room leaning forward without meaning to.
Opening bid. Ten spirit stones.
The number settled heavily.
No one spoke.
It wasn't hesitation. It wasn't shock. It was the quiet shift of minds turning inward, weighing what they had against what had just been placed in front of them.
Ten spirit stones.
Enough to change a path. Enough to move beyond limits most in the room had not yet crossed.
Across the hall, several young masters leaned forward, then stopped as the reality of it settled in. Hands hovered near their pouches before withdrawing. Eyes lingered on the scroll, then turned away as though looking too long might make the distance between desire and reality more obvious.
A few voices slipped through, low and unguarded.
Ten… who can even open with that…
Not here… not like this…
That's not a bid…
Leylin listened.
Then he glanced at Séraphine.
What are spirit stones? Why are they so valuable?
She looked at him, something faintly amused passing through her eyes.
They form where spiritual veins converge, deep beneath the earth. Pressure. Time. Essence compressing over centuries until it crystallizes. What you see as a stone is—
Twelve spirit stones.
The voice cut cleanly through the hall.
Not loud. Not strained.
Steady.
Alive again.
Attention shifted, slow but inevitable, drawn toward its source.
Varian.
He sat straighter than before, though the tension in his shoulders had not left him. His chin lifted slightly, just enough to meet the weight of the gazes now settling on him.
Recognition came in fragments, scattered and uncertain.
That's him…
He just lost…
Why is he bidding again…
Didn't he run out…
Varian heard.
A flicker passed through his expression, brief and controlled, before it vanished beneath something steadier.
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Twelve spirit stones, the host repeated.
Varian's gaze crossed the hall and settled on Drain.
There was no gesture.
No overt signal.
But the intent behind it was unmistakable.
Drain saw it.
A faint smile touched his lips, almost idle, as though the moment amused him more than it demanded his attention.
He let the silence stretch just enough.
Fifteen spirit stones for the cultivation manual.
The host echoed it immediately.
Varian's smile widened, though nothing in him relaxed.
Brother Drain, he said, his voice carrying just enough to reach. It couldn't be that you desire this manual.
He let the words settle.
Then followed, quieter.
Twenty spirit stones.
This time the silence didn't hold.
It broke.
Twenty?
I thought he was finished…
So he was hiding it…
Clever bastard…
He let himself look poor just to bait him…
The voices overlapped, building something that felt convincing simply because enough people believed it at once.
A story.
Varian sat in the middle of it, letting it form around him, letting it reshape him.
Leylin watched.
The tension in Varian's posture.
The satisfaction behind his restraint.
Not for the manual.
For what this moment gave back to him.
Something turned in Leylin's chest, sharp and immediate.
Séraphine noticed.
What do you think?
Leylin didn't answer immediately.
His gaze moved between Varian and Drain, then beyond them, rising toward the higher tiers where the sealed chambers overlooked the hall.
They're not bidding on the technique, he said.
A brief pause stretched between them as seraphine tilted her head slightly.then?
Leylin's eyes narrowed for just a fraction before continuing
It's not about the technique, It's what comes with it. Not having to ask. Not having to wait. Not having to answer to anyone standing above them.
His gaze lifted, settling briefly on the sealed chambers.
But the price was wrong,leylin finished..Ten stones for a fragment… he went on, slower, as if the thought was still forming as he spoke. It forces this. Whoever set it knew exactly what it would do.
A pause settled between them briefly before he continued
It decides who steps forward.
Hearing this,Séraphine smiled faintly and this time, it lingered.
Good, she said softly. I'm starting to like you.
Leylin frowned slightly,but just as he was about to respond..
"Thirty spirit stones."
The voice came from above.
This time the shift was immediate.
Varian turned.
Drain turned.
Every gaze followed.
Leylin did too.
One of the translucent chambers, ignored until now, held the weight of the entire room's attention.
Inside, a figure sat.
Two women stood beside him, their presence quiet but unmistakable, the stillness around them carrying something heavier than anything below.
The boy between them leaned slightly forward.
Round lenses rested against his face. His hair was neat, deliberate without effort.
There was no tension in him.
No urgency.
He simply occupied the space as though it had always been his.
Thirty spirit stones.
He repeated it, just enough to be heard.
Below, the hall broke.
Voices rose, overlapping, uncertain.
Who is that…
That chamber… who's inside…
He sounds too young…
Why is he there…
No one answered.
No one could.
But the attention of the room had already shifted.
And this time, it didn't return.