Chapter 64: The Auction House (Part 2)

After waiting for about ten minutes, the auction officially began. Bing Yan and his companions immediately fixed their gaze on the auction stage in the center of the grand hall below. The stage was large, resembling a massive arena, and standing to the side was the auctioneer for this event. He gripped a large gavel in his hand, exuding an air of final authority—on that stage, he was without question the master.

The auction commenced. Christie’s Auction House, renowned as one of the most venerable in history, was celebrated for offering items of rare and precious provenance, often exquisite works of art. This instantly captured the attention of the many buyers below.

These buyers were magnates and dignitaries of immense wealth, people whose fortunes were so vast they could never hope to spend them in a single lifetime. The auction thus became a stage for them to flaunt their wealth and bolster their reputations.

The first item was brought out. The moment the curtain was drawn aside, a collective gasp of amazement swept through the crowd. Even Bing Yan, seated in the VIP box, could not help but express his admiration—indeed, Christie’s lived up to its reputation; to open the auction with such a valuable treasure was impressive.

The object that drew every eye was a vessel made entirely of gold, resplendent and magnificent, radiating a noble aura reminiscent of ancient Rome. Its surface was adorned with green and red agates, lending it an air of refined elegance that softened the ostentation of pure gold, inspiring a natural sense of reverence and nobility.

The bidding was fierce, with wealthy bidders competing until their faces were flushed, as if possessing this vessel would grant them immortality. In the end, it was little more than a matter of pride.

Finally, with the auctioneer’s decisive strike of the gavel, the splendid vessel was claimed by a local French tycoon for twelve million euros.

Everyone then waited quietly for the second item to appear. Generally, the most precious items are presented toward the end; the true highlights of any auction are always reserved for later, a fact well known to all.

Bing Yan stifled a yawn, covering his mouth. He found the proceedings tedious—the only thing he cared about was the Divine Dragon Cauldron. By now, he was almost certain that the fifth cauldron would make its appearance at this auction, and compared to that, he had not the slightest interest in the current lots.

“Young master, it’s almost time,” Lus whispered, noticing Bing Yan’s drowsiness and knowing the next item was their true objective.

In an instant, Bing Yan’s lethargy vanished, replaced by vibrant alertness—a transformation that left Lus and the others astonished.

As the auction reached its climax, the object Bing Yan and his companions had long anticipated finally appeared before them. In the center of the stage, atop a crimson cloth, sat a small golden cauldron, plain yet solemn. At the sight, Bing Yan’s heart fluttered—it was indeed the one! The Divine Dragon Cauldron of the Nine Provinces! Specifically, the fifth cauldron, the Suan Ni!

Such an unremarkable item was unlikely to attract much attention. Judging purely by appearance, aside from its gold construction, it was devoid of any distinguishing features. It was not ornate, nor designed for aesthetic appreciation. Even as a solid gold artifact, such a palm-sized cauldron would not fetch much.

Yet, this unassuming little object had been placed as the penultimate lot by Christie’s.

“What’s going on here?” Bing Yan pondered, unable to make sense of it.

At that moment, he noticed a group of middle-aged men with black hair and yellow skin seated in one corner of the hall. They were deep in conversation. A sudden insight struck Bing Yan—perhaps there was another reason.

Looking more closely at the cauldron, he realized it was not without merit. The five-clawed golden dragon encircling its body was vivid and lifelike. Despite its plain exterior, the cauldron was in fact a crystallization of the finest essence of Chinese civilization.

The group of Asian men exuded an air of resolute authority. “Are they... officials from China?” Bing Yan speculated.

That had to be it—Christie’s was deliberately targeting China. On its own, the cauldron might never command a high price, but if patriotism was brought into play, the situation changed.

“To exploit China’s national sentiment—what shameless banditry!” Bing Yan thought angrily. They were gambling that the relevant Chinese authorities would not tolerate a national treasure remaining abroad, and would be compelled to act, justifying their outrageous pricing.

The auction began, with the starting bid set at an astonishing ten million euros.

This price shocked everyone. Anyone with experience could see that, however unique, the cauldron’s maximum value was no more than a few million euros. To begin at ten million was blatant extortion.

Many attendees sat back, curious to see who would bid for this item. Yet they all knew the final buyer would likely be an Asian with yellow skin. Such scenarios had played out many times before.

“Eleven million!” As expected, after a long silence, a Chinese man in the corner called out a bid.

“Twelve million!” Immediately after, a white European raised his paddle, only seconds after the Chinese bidder.

“Twelve and a half million!”

“Thirteen million!”

“Thirteen and a half million!”

As the two bidders clashed, the price of the cauldron soared ever higher, finally reaching thirty-four million two hundred thousand euros.

The entire audience was stunned by this price—truly a figure that would bleed anyone dry. Whoever won it would certainly be at a loss.

“But is it really just a loss?” Bing Yan sneered to himself. “What if that European is nothing but a shill?”

Indeed, as Bing Yan suspected, the European bidder was in fact a plant hired by Christie’s. Their aim was simple: to drive up the price before selling to the Chinese.

The Chinese man wiped sweat from his brow and made a phone call. After hanging up, he appeared much more at ease and called out, “Thirty-five million!”

There is a psychological strategy in auctions. For example, if something is worth five million, and bidders increase in small increments, the final price may approach or even exceed its true value. But if someone abruptly raises the bid by several million at once, it creates the illusion of determination, intimidating others and often allowing the item to be won for less than expected.

Clearly, the Chinese bidder was using this tactic. However, by now, the bidding had already far surpassed the cauldron’s actual worth. Unaware of the artifact’s true power, they saw it only as a relic of cultural heritage.

“Thirty-five million two hundred thousand!” the European shill called out again.

The Chinese bidder had not expected anyone to challenge him at this price. He knew the European was a plant, but even so, wasn’t this pursuit a bit excessive? If the real bidders were frightened off, wouldn’t it be counterproductive?

In a private room at Christie’s, a young man was cursing loudly. “Damn it, Andyte! Doesn’t he know the meaning of ‘let sleeping dogs lie’? The Chinese are truly remarkable—to have such wisdom from antiquity. If my plan fails because of Andyte, I’ll never forgive him.”

Andyte himself was regretting his actions. After a lifetime of shrewdness, how could he have slipped up on such a trivial matter? When the Chinese bidder called out his price, Andyte had reflexively followed suit—he was simply too exhausted.

The Chinese man hesitated, then finally set his paddle down with a deep sigh. The current bid had exceeded his authorized limit; the highest amount he had approval for was thirty-five million euros.

Just as everyone assumed the European would win the cauldron, a voice rang out from the VIP box above, shaking everyone to their core: “One hundred and fifty million!”

The bidder was none other than Bing Yan. He held the electronic bidding button with a smile—it was rather satisfying to press, and with a single push, he had bid one hundred and fifty million.

As for the blood clan, their wealth was terrifyingly vast. Bing Yan’s casual bid of one hundred and fifty million was met with little more than respectful smiles from Lus and the others, not the slightest hint of pain. In their eyes, money was but a byproduct of their long lives, something to pass the time.

Worldly wealth was as dust to them; the pursuit of true power was what mattered.

In the private room at Christie’s, the young man leapt up from the sofa in glee, his eyes shining with excitement. “Ha! God, this is marvelous—one hundred and fifty million! If my father learns how much I earned today, he’ll surely entrust Christie’s to me with even greater confidence.”

But his euphoria was abruptly doused by a familiar voice—the shill he had worked with many times before.

“Two hundred million!” The shill’s lips trembled; he did not even know what he was saying. He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words slipped out uncontrollably.

No further bids came from the VIP box; Bing Yan had withdrawn.

Yet he felt quite satisfied, having outmaneuvered Christie’s. Was that not victory enough? Just moments before, he had mimicked the European’s voice and bid, channeling his power so the sound seemed to come from the shill’s direction, and even sent a subtle burst of energy causing the man to raise his paddle unconsciously.

No one outside was any the wiser, not even the European, who likely believed he had bid without realizing it.

In any case, the sale was concluded. Christie’s had failed in its scheme and would now be liable for a significant tax bill.

As for the Divine Dragon Cauldron, Bing Yan simply smiled—knowing its location was enough. Did they really think he wouldn’t be able to take it by force if he wished? He had intended to acquire it legitimately, but Christie’s conduct had disgusted him; a lesson was in order.

***

Night descended, illusory and dreamlike, revealing a harsher truth—perhaps only in darkness can we glimpse the ugliness hidden in daylight.

Bing Yan left Christie’s alone, walking the city streets. The lights flickered around him, and the glare of passing cars made him uncomfortable. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness.

Then, before the eyes of many, his figure gradually faded away. Yet none of the passersby found this strange—they were under the influence of the aura Bing Yan had released earlier, their minds immersed in their own inner worlds, unable to comprehend the oddity of someone vanishing into thin air.

In the next instant, Bing Yan appeared in the secure warehouse where the auction house stored its treasures. The walls here were made of steel plates twenty centimeters thick; the sole entrance was a high-grade iron security door guarded by armed sentries.

For ordinary people, this warehouse was an impenetrable fortress. But to Bing Yan, who could teleport at will, its defenses were riddled with holes.

He searched the warehouse at his leisure and quickly found his prize—a small golden cauldron, encircled by a five-clawed golden dragon, plain in form. It was the fifth Divine Dragon Cauldron, the Suan Ni.

Suppressing his excitement, Bing Yan carefully collected the cauldron. After nearly ten days of searching, he had finally found it—now the trail of the cauldrons was alive once more.

Securing the cauldron, he vanished again, returning to the estate of the Smith Independent Clan.