Does that count as the Buddha's or mine

"Li Mo bids six... Young Master Qiao bids seven..."

"..."

The auction hall of Dongzhu Tower was eerily quiet. Everyone stared blankly at the two figures nearby, their minds buzzing in disbelief.

Qiao Ziyu occasionally shot a resentful glare at Li Mo before raising his bidding paddle again, clearly too deep into the competition to back down.

Li Mo remained silent, merely lifting his paddle as if oblivious to the staggering price—now reaching five hundred mystic crystals.

Sea silk, no matter how aged, was ultimately just material for garments—at best, capable of changing colors.

Three hundred mystic crystals?

Had they lost their minds, or had the world itself gone mad?

Even Qian Bufan's face twitched. "Li Mo, calm down. Maybe let it go? At this rate, I’ll start digging for sea silk myself."

"I’m young and full of vigor—how could I not raise?" Li Mo lifted his jade paddle once more.

"What on earth do you even need this for?"

"To make clothes."

"Other materials could also—"

"Others can’t change colors. And they’re not as easy to tear."

"???"

Qian Bufan’s brain overheated trying to make sense of such a bizarre reason.

But then it struck him—the money spent hardly mattered.

After all, Dongzhu Tower now belonged to Li Mo. No matter how high he bid, the funds would ultimately return to his own pockets...

If Li Mo was burning money for fun, why was Qiao Ziyu gambling with his life?

"Li Mo raises again—three hundred fifty mystic crystals!"

As the announcement echoed—

"I... ugh—!"

Qiao Ziyu instinctively moved to raise his paddle, but before he could speak, a pig’s trotter was shoved into his mouth.

An elder attendant hastily intervened, "Young Master, enough. We’ve already made him pay dearly. If he backs out now, what then?"

"Remember, we still have the crucial item to secure."

Qiao Ziyu glanced at the displayed price, his expression easing slightly.

True, he’d already forced Li Mo to overspend by three hundred forty-seven mystic crystals.

This loss stung worse than the two hundred crystals he’d wasted on roasted pig trotters.

A flicker of dread crept in—what if Li Mo had refused to bid further?

"Fine. I won’t raise!"

Qiao Ziyu openly admitted defeat.

With that, Lan Tian’s gavel fell, declaring the three-thousand-year sea silk sold to Li Mo for three hundred fifty mystic crystals.

The auction resumed.

From then on, Qiao Ziyu treated the sea silk as merely the opening move. He shadowed Li Mo’s every bid—whether for the Nine-Petal Ocean Lotus Chariot or the Cloud Bed of Heavy Water—relentlessly driving prices skyward.

Li Mo’s losses surpassed a thousand mystic crystals.

Yet he wore an air of undisturbed calm, leaving onlookers feeling like they’d punched cotton.

"This rivals the entire treasury of a provincial sect!"

"Even Hengyun Sword City might struggle to match such wealth."

"Rumors say Li Mo splurged thousands in the imperial capital, but even that paled next to this. Can he truly cover such sums?"

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"If he fails to pay, let’s see how he wriggles free!" Qiao Ziyu sneered.

The elder attendant cautioned, "Focus on our true objective."

As the auction neared its end, anticipation swelled.

The final lot was always the crown jewel.

"Our finale is a fragment of the Ruins’ Atlas."

"Legends speak of it as the realm where celestial traces emerged and vanished—a place holding secrets of immortality itself..."

"Authenticated by Sect Leader Tantai of Penglai, its value is beyond doubt!"

The crimson drape slid away, revealing a bronze slab etched with divine runes, its surface shimmering with starlight, exuding an aura of ancient mystery.

To gaze upon it was to witness eternity.

The hall held its breath.

For most, the Ruins had existed only in myth.

Immortality—

A word so elusive, yet so intoxicating.

Of course, Penglai’s Star Sect had likely studied this artifact for centuries, if not millennia, before relinquishing it to Dongzhu Tower.

But... immortality demanded fate’s favor.

What if destiny’s chosen was among them?

Many harbored such thoughts, though few dared more than a glance.

"Opening bid—five hundred mystic crystals!"

A sum to deter all but the mightiest sects.

"Six hundred!"

The first bid rang out, edged with urgency.

Before it settled, another voice eclipsed it.

"Six fifty! Plus a segment of Leviathan bone. I am the Xingsha Sect Leader—kindly grant me this courtesy."

"Xingsha Sect Leader? A mere fishmonger! Seven hundred! And two harbors from East Luo Bay."

"Personal attacks? Where’s the decorum? Is there no moderation here?"

Chaos briefly reigned.

No one blamed the bidders for their fervor—most were staking their entire fortunes.

"Young Master, we’ve only brought eight hundred mystic crystals. Beyond that, we’d need to pledge treasures at a loss," the elder attendant fretted.

Qiao Ziyu clenched his jaw. Originally, they’d allocated a thousand.

But two hundred had vanished into that cursed pig trotter—now worthless in trade.

He’d never expected the competition to escalate so fiercely.

Losing the Ruins’ Atlas over a mere two hundred crystals? The consequences back at his sect didn’t bear imagining.

"Eight hundred mystic crystals."

With no alternative, he threw another venomous look at Li Mo.

The hall hushed momentarily.

This sum exceeded ninety percent of contenders’ means. The remaining sects, though still in play, eyed each other warily, probing for weaknesses.

Then, a familiar voice shattered the silence:

"One thousand mystic crystals. Plus five golden mountains."

"?"

Qiao Ziyu checked his divination insect—its hue had shifted to violet.

So Li Mo desired this artifact too?