Beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers of the subterranean Sovereign Royal Auction Hall, the velvet-draped amphitheater hummed with low murmurs as Lin Mo led Master Wen and Dr. Eleanor Vance into the central Royal Box.
Down on the subterranean stage stood Dark-Council Vampire Duke Malakor [Goodness: -62 / 100], presiding from a velvet dais alongside European aristocrats and Ouroboros bankers. His silver hair was swept back in neat waves, and his pale fingers rested casually on the rim of a massive green-bronze tripod vessel that had just risen through the stage floor.
Beside Malakor stood Lord Alistair Sterling [Goodness: -41 / 100]. Alistair held a golden microphone with a trembling hand, his face still pale from the rainy steps outside, yet he wore a venomous smirk as he glanced up toward the Royal Box.
Up in the private gallery, eighty-two-year-old Master Wen [Goodness: 95 / 100] leaned forward. His knuckles turned white against the polished mahogany railing as his newly restored eyes scanned the bronze vessel on stage.
“Look closely at that tripod cauldron,” Master Wen murmured, his voice shaking with righteous anger. “The casting seams along the belly are far too uniform for a genuine ritual bronze from three thousand years ago. And that green patina wasn’t formed by ancient soil—it was corroded overnight with nitric acid and copper sulfate!”
