Grandmaster Dan Chen backed away from the auction podium, slapping the golden wager parchment from Shen Qiaoqiao’s hand.
His scarlet silk robes were drenched in cold sweat, his wrinkled face contorted with hysterical denial.
“Never!” Dan Chen shrieked, his voice shrill as a cornered animal. “I will never hand over my sect’s one-hundred-year herb warehouse! That appraisal test was rigged! Lin Mo used optical illusion talismans to forge false scan results!”
Senior Brother Lu and twelve inner-sect deacons rushed forward, drawing jagged bone daggers and bronze sabers.
“The Grandmaster is right!” Lu shouted desperately toward the five thousand spectators in the galleries. “The dark spots on our Blood-Marrow Foundation Pills are not poison! They are rare, ancient volcanic iron-minerals! Those minerals strengthen mortal bones and temper cultivator meridians!”
Dan Chen pointed a shaking finger at the crowd, his eyes bulging with panic.
“Yes! Rare minerals!” Dan Chen lied, his voice cracking. “Taichu Group is trying to destroy our traditional alchemy heritage so they can seize our markets! Do not let this mortal merchant deceive you!”
Elder Bai of White-Crane Manor stepped forward, his saber drawn, his face livid.
