The massive copper gong above the auction stage rang out with a deep, vibrating boom.
Tens of thousands of sect masters, wealthy merchants, and vault directors leaned forward in their circular stadium seats. High above the arena bowl, VIP Box Number One gleamed with fiery crimson banners.
Inside Box One, Sect Master Cang Yan had bandaged his cracked forehead with white spirit-cloth.
Only an hour ago, he had been groveling in his own blood on the red carpet. But now, his arrogant posture was fully restored. Resting on his knee was a glowing blood-jade token, humming with the icy aura of Vault #2.
Just ten minutes earlier, Ancestor Xue Qidan of Vault #2 had secretly granted Cang Yan a one-hundred-trillion-crystal credit line. The mandate was clear: drive up the bids, drain Lin Mo’s liquid reserves on every single lot, and break Taichu Bank before the orchard came up for sale.
Cang Yan touched the blood-jade token, a venomous smirk returning to his bruised lips.
“Twenty-nine quadrillion or not, cash in a bank is not cash in your pocket,” Cang Yan muttered to his deputy. “We have the backing of the Seven Vaults. Let us see if Lin Mo has the guts to burn trillions on fruit.”
