If great figures did not occasionally erupt, how unbearably dull would an auction full of courtesy and civility be?0

He Lingchuan had already taken a seat beside Fushan Yue. At this point, he lowered his voice and reminded him, “Zhongsun Ce is close to giving up.”0

Zhongsun Ce’s gaze had begun to wander, and even his bids came more hesitantly than before. He no longer had the same firm resolve.0

He had clearly considered simply letting the blood-infused vine fall into Fushan Yue’s hands. Whoever spent 15,000 taels to bring that thing home would be the real fool.1

Fushan Yue grinned at Zhongsun Ce and produced a stack of banknotes. “This is the money your brother paid in compensation to my envoy on the day he disappeared. A full 50,000 taels. I’m using it to buy the blood-infused vine.”0

The moment Zhongsun Ce saw the notes, his eyes reddened. In a low, harsh voice, he said, “Sixteen thousand taels!”0

Good, that’s more like it. Fushan Yue smiled.0

Not one of the banknotes He Lingchuan had earned with his own hands would ever make its way to Fushan Yue. Fortunately, Zhongsun Ce had already been angered past reason and had no mind left to examine the details.1

The bidding continued until it reached 19,000 taels.0

The entire hall fell silent.0

The auctioneer called the price out twice. Zhongsun Ce stared at Fushan Yue with murderous hatred,...0