A dead, ringing silence fell across the vast Imperial Ancestral Hall.
Sixty ancient bronze dragon braziers flickered with eerie green spirit flames, casting long, frozen shadows across the cold marble floor.
On the elevated mahogany stage, Grand Elder He stood completely motionless. His carved nephrite gavel hovered in mid-air, his wispy white beard trembling with disbelief as his jaundiced eyes locked onto Lin Mo at Table Twenty-Eight.
In the third row, Situ Hao stared across the hall, his mouth slightly open.
Then, his face twisted into an expression of loud, incredulous mockery.
“Hahaha!” Situ Hao burst into hysterical laughter, slapping the mahogany armrest of his chair until the polished wood rattled. “Ten million spirit stones? Did everyone hear this ignorant country clown? He actually said ten million spirit stones!”
Situ Hao rose to his feet, turning around to face the entire assembly while pointing a mocking finger at Lin Mo.
“Lin Mo, you brainless provincial upstart!” Situ Hao jeered, his voice echoing off the ancient rafters. “Do you even comprehend what ten million spirit stones means? In the cultivation black markets of Hong Kong, Singapore, and Switzerland, a single low-grade spirit stone trades for one million mortal yuan! Ten million physical stones is ten trillion yuan in hard immortal currency! To mine one million stones, our Eight Families had to employ three thousand martial diggers in the frozen mountains of Changbai for twelve years! Not even the ancient sects of Kunlun or Mount Shu keep ten million physical stones outside…
