Inside VIP Box #1 on the second floor from the Royal Treasure Pavilion, Second Prince Qian Ye sat behind a one-way silk screen, swirling a cup of cold frost-jade tea.
His eyes were fixed on the auction stage below, where two attendants had just carried out the red-silk crate labeled Lot #19.
“Your Highness,” Palace Steward Liu whispered from behind the chair, “Deputy Appraiser Zhou hid the real Medicine King Furnace in the upstairs vault an hour ago as instructed. We planted the Rank 3 Blood-Tracking Seal under the lid of the decoy Lot #19 crate. The moment that mysterious thief from the South Ward bids on Lot #19 and opens the silk, the Blood-Tracking dye will fuse into his skin for thirty days!”
“Good,” Qian Ye said coldly, a thin, calculating smile returning to his lips. “Whoever stole my Nine-Yang Dragon Marrow yesterday clearly knows the hidden value of unappraised items in Sky-Crown City. He will never pass up the Hundred-Herb Medicine King Furnace.
Let him bid on Lot #19—once the Blood-Tracking Seal marks his face, my Night-Crow assassins will slit his throat before midnight.”
Across the central chandelier hall in VIP Box #2, Qian Ye’s eldest brother and fiercest rival for the throne—First Prince Qian Ba. A hulking youth in gold-trimmed tiger-skin robes—leaned over his balcony rail with a mocking grin.
“Hey, Second Brother!” First Prince Qian Ba called out loudly enough for the thirty noble families in the surrounding VIP boxes to hear. “My scouts told me you sent your steward here three times this morning to ask about Lot #19!
Don’t tell me our scholarly Second Brother has taken up collecting rusty northern foot-warmers?”
Several court ministers chuckled behind their sleeves. Qian Ye didn’t even blink, keeping his voice calm and aloof.
“An uneducated eye sees rust where a wise man sees history, Eldest Brother,” Qian Ye replied smoothly. “Though I doubt you can spell the word ‘alchemy.’”
First Prince Qian Ba’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Then let’s see who bids on this piece of northern junk!”
Down on the marble stage, the chief auctioneer tapped his silver gavel against the podium.
“Distinguished guests, we now come to Lot #19—an antique northern metal vessel from a border estate! Opening bid: ten silver taels!”
Second Prince Qian Ye leaned forward, his spiritual sense sweeping every corner of the ground-floor commoner seats and the rear doorways. Waiting for the man in the blue cotton coat with the two children to raise a paddle.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty seconds passed.
Not a single person from the South Ward raised a hand. In fact, the entire hall was dead silent because nobody wanted to pay ten silvers for an unverified box from the northern border.
“Ten silver taels, going once...” the auctioneer called out, looking bored. “Going twice—”
Down by the side pillar of the stage, Deputy Appraiser Zhou—who had just crept downstairs with a swollen cheek after being yelled at by Pavilion Master Ge—was drenched in cold sweat.
Oh no! Oh no! Zhou panicked, his heart hammering against his ribs.
*Pavilion Master Ge gave the real bronze furnace from the back-vault to that hair-cream doctor ten minutes ago!
Which means the real furnace MUST be the one sitting in Lot #19 on the stage right now, and Pavilion Master Ge only gave the doctor a spare pot! If Lot #19 passes unsold or gets tossed into the clearance bin, Second Prince Qian Ye will find out I lost his furnace and feed me to the dogs!*
Losing his mind with terror just as the gavel started to drop, Deputy Appraiser Zhou snatched a numbered paddle off a passing waiter’s tray and screamed at the top of his lungs:.
“FORTY THOUSAND SILVER TAELS!”
The entire auction hall went dead quiet. Three noblewomen dropped their tea saucers onto the carpet.
Up in VIP Box #1, Second Prince Qian Ye crushed his porcelain teacup to powder in his bare hand.
Forty thousand silver taels?! Qian Ye’s mind roared in disbelief as he glared down at his own bribed appraiser waving a paddle like a lunatic. Why is that idiot Zhou bidding forty thousand silvers on my decoy box?!
“Look, Your Highness!” Steward Liu gasped, pointing a trembling finger at Zhou. “Deputy Appraiser Zhou is sweating like a pig and staring at the stage!
Could it be...
could it be that the South Ward thief threatened Zhou to move the REAL Medicine King Furnace back onto the stage inside Lot #19, and Zhou is desperately trying to save it for you?!”
Qian Ye’s pupils contracted sharply.
That makes sense! Qian Ye’s hyper-suspicious Regressor brain instantly connected ten nonexistent dots. *The thief knew I bribed Zhou!
So he forced the real furnace back into Lot #19, hoping it would pass unsold for ten silvers!
And now First Prince Qian Ba is watching!*
Sure enough, across the hall in VIP Box #2, First Prince Qian Ba slammed his fist onto the balcony rail and burst into a booming roar of laughter.
“Hahaha! Did everyone see that?! Second Brother’s little pet appraiser just bid forty thousand silvers on a ten-tael foot-warmer!”
First Prince Qian Ba raised his golden paddle high in the air.
“If Second Brother wants that box so badly, it must be an ancient treasure! I bid forty-five thousand silver taels!”
Qian Ye stood up so fast his velvet chair tipped over backward.
If First Prince Qian Ba won the Hundred-Herb Medicine King Furnace, Qian Ye’s entire alchemy plan for the Royal Brothers’ Tournament would be ruined!
“FIFTY THOUSAND SILVER TAELS!” Second Prince Qian Ye’s icy, qi-amplified voice thundered out of VIP Box #1, rattling the crystal chandeliers across the ceiling. “The Eastern Palace claims Lot #19 for fifty thousand silvers in cash!
Anyone who bids another copper is declaring war on this Prince!”
First Prince Qian Ba smirked, lowering his paddle with a mocking bow. “All yours for fifty thousand silvers, Second Brother! Make sure you open it right here on stage so we can all admire your grand treasure!”
“Yeah! Open the box! Let us see what a fifty-thousand-tael northern artifact looks like!”
the thirty noble families cheered, craning their necks over the balconies.
Breathing heavily, Second Prince Qian Ye swept down the curved marble staircase onto the main stage, tossed five ten-thousand-tael royal bank drafts onto the auctioneer’s podium. Coldly waved his sleeve at the red-silk crate.
“Careful with the lid—step back while I disarm the inner seal,” Qian Ye murmured under his breath. Channeling a finger-beam of Rank 3 Peak qi to snip the Blood-Tracking thread he thought was attached to the bottom latch. Yanking the red silk cover clean off in front of five hundred noble spectators!
“Behold the Hundred-Herb—”
Qian Ye’s voice died in his throat.
Sitting on the velvet cushion in the middle of the stage was not an ancient purple-bronze alchemy tripod.
It was a bright, gaudy, gold-plated antique porcelain chamber pot with two chipped ceramic handles and a painted yellow peony right in the bottom of the bowl!
And worse—because Pavilion Master Ge had tossed the chamber pot into the crate upside-down an hour ago, the spring-loaded Rank 3 Blood-Tracking Dye Seal hadn’t been on the bottom latch at all. It was stuck directly to the underside of the red silk ribbon Qian Ye had just yanked Toward his own chest!
CLICK—BANG!!
Before the Second Prince could raise his defensive qi shield, a pressurized cloud of sticky, foul-smelling Rank 3 Crimson Blood-Tracking Paint exploded straight out of the chamber pot’s rim from six inches away!
SPLAT!
A full gallon of glowing neon-red tracking dye blasted Second Prince Qian Ye square in the face, drenching his pale cheeks, his silk eyebrows, his jade crown. The front of his black royal robe in un-washable crimson paint that smelled strongly of pickled dog blood and fermented turnip juice!
For three seconds, the packed Royal Treasure Pavilion was so quiet you could hear red paint dripping off the end of Second Prince Qian Ye’s nose—drip, drip, drip—into the gold-plated chamber pot.
Then—.
“BWAHAHAHA!!”
Up in VIP Box #2, First Prince Qian Ba laughed so hard he lost his balance. Tumbled backward over his velvet sofa with his boots kicking in the air, and pounded the floor with both fists! “Fifty thousand silver taels for a booby-trapped chamber pot!!
Second Brother, if you needed to use the toilet that badly, you could have borrowed mine for free!!”
Across the hall, noble young ladies hid behind their silk fans with shaking shoulders. Pavilion Master Ge—who had just walked out onto the third-floor balcony sporting a magnificent, glossy full head of jet-black curls—stared down at the stage in utter confusion.
“Eh? Why did His Highness pay fifty thousand silvers for Marquis Liu’s old chamber pot?” Pavilion Master Ge blinked, stroking his luxurious new sideburns.
“I already gave the rusty bronze chestnut pot to Physician Gu for free!”
Physician Gu?! Chestnut pot?!
Standing on the stage covered from forehead to boots in glowing red tracking dye, Second Prince Qian Ye turned his head slowly, mechanically, toward the open second-floor window facing the street.
Right then, a warm, heavenly breeze drifted through the window—carrying the unmistakable, zero-impurity Rank 4 Hundred-Herb Pill-Fire Aroma mixed with caramelized wild honey and roasted mountain chestnuts!
Qian Ye stumbled to the window and looked down at the sunny boulevard below.
There, parked in the shade of the willow trees beside a floating luxury caravan, stood the exact Rank 4 Hundred-Herb Medicine King Furnace from his past-life memories!
Except it wasn’t refining imperial foundation pills.
Gu Changsheng had bolted an iron hand-crank to the side of the sacred four-hundred-year-old alchemy tripod and was lazily turning the drum over black quartz sand! Every ten seconds, Gu Changsheng scooped out a paper cone of steaming, golden Immortal Pill-Aroma Sugar-Roasted Chestnuts and handed them to nine-year-old Gu Nian and seven-year-old Su Nuannuan. Who were sitting on little wooden stools happily peeling the sweet shells and feeding warm chestnuts to Auntie Qin and Grandpa Fu!
Even captured Envoy Zhao—still wearing his frilly Pink Chore Apron—was squatting by the wagon wheel, catching a stray chestnut shell in his toothless mouth with tears of bliss!
“Dad, this bronze pot roasts chestnuts way faster than our iron pan,” Gu Nian’s clear voice floated up to the window. “Can we roast sweet corn in it tonight?”
“Sure,” Gu Changsheng’s voice drifted back, warm and unhurried against the crisp autumn breeze. “Though we should thank whoever donated it to the pavilion vault—saved me fifty thousand silvers.”
“Fifty thousand silvers could buy two hundred wagons of firewood and ten thousand sacks of brown sugar!” Grandpa Fu chuckled. Clicking his [Jade-Abacus Cane] cheerfully as he handed a warm paper bag of chestnuts to a passing street urchin.
“Only a truly generous philanthropist would spend fifty thousand silver taels on an antique chamber pot just to support the local auction house!
Truly, the Royal Family’s charitable spirit knows no bounds!”
Down on the street corner, a dozen merchants who had just walked out of the Royal Treasure Pavilion pointed at the golden-glowing bronze drum beside the Gu Family caravan and whispered in amazement.
“Wait—isn’t that the rusty three-legged vessel that used to sit in Pavilion Master Ge’s reserve room?!”
“Smell that aroma! Just breathing in the steam from those roasted chestnuts made my stiff lower back loosen up! That’s not an ordinary iron pot—that’s a priceless ancient pill furnace!”
“And His Royal Highness the Second Prince just paid fifty thousand silver taels upstairs for Marquis Liu’s used bedpan?! Hahaha, no wonder First Prince Qian Ba nearly laughed himself off the balcony!”
Up at the second-floor window, every single word from the street below pierced Second Prince Qian Ye’s ears like hot iron needles.
CRACK!!
Inside Second Prince Qian Ye’s chest, his [100-Year Regressor Halo] let out a violent wail as a second massive fissure tore across the golden ring. Dropping his Halo integrity straight from 94% down to 88%!
[System Notification: Target ‘Second Prince Qian Ye’ Suffered Public Humiliation & 50,000-Silver Financial Loss!]
[Qian Ye’s Regressor Halo: 94% -> 88%!]
[Gu Nian & Su Nuannuan Happiness: 99/100 (Eating Pill-Aroma Chestnuts!)]
[Daily Income: +960,000 -> +1,100,000 DP/day!]
Wiping sticky red tracking dye from his bloodshot eyes. First Prince Qian Ba’s laughter echoed relentlessly through the chandelier hall, Qian Ye backed away from the window into the dark, drafty corridor behind VIP Box #1.
Palace Steward Liu and bruised Deputy Appraiser Zhou dropped to their knees in the hallway, trembling so violently their teeth rattled against the marble floor.
“Y-Your Highness,” Steward Liu whimpered, not daring to look at the glowing crimson dye dripping from the Prince’s chin. “Shall I summon the Imperial City Guard to arrest that physician for—for roasting chestnuts?”
“Arrest him for what?!” Qian Ye’s voice was frighteningly quiet as he wiped a streak of pungent red dye off his cheek with the back of his sleeve. “Pavilion Master Ge gifted him that furnace in broad daylight!
And I bid fifty thousand silvers on that cursed chamber pot with my own mouth in front of five hundred witnesses!
If I send the Imperial Guard, First Brother will turn me into the laughingstock of the entire Imperial Court before dinner!”
His hands shook—not from physical weakness, but from a cold, murderous madness that had completely abandoned the polite rules of court politics. Twice in a single day, his priceless hundred-year future memories had been turned into street-side comedy by a nobody father in a coarse gray apron.
“Shadow-Commander Crow,” Qian Ye hissed into the pitch-black shadows of the stairwell, his red-dyed face looking like a vengeful ghost crawled out of hell. “Take twelve Rank 3 Night-Crow Assassins to Willow-Breeze Courtyard at one o’clock tonight. Coat every single blade in Seven-Step Heart-Rot Poison.
I don’t care about the rules anymore—slit that father’s throat in his sleep and bring me that furnace covered in his blood!”