The two days leading up to the grand auction transformed Black Tortoise City into a bustling, chaotic nexus of the Demon Immortal Continent.
The Star River Merchant Alliance had strategically delayed the auction, allowing the explosive news of the *Volcanic Annihilation* to spread like a shockwave across the Demon Immortal Continent. As a result, the skies above the city darkened with the silhouettes of massive flying artifacts, majestic spiritual beasts, and floating pavilions.
With the auction date looming, the city's infrastructure was pushed to its absolute limits. The major powers—including the Heavenly Sword Lake, the Demon Suppression Temple, and the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect and others—did not mingle with the common rogue cultivators in the crowded inns. Instead, they immediately rented out the premium cultivation caves and isolated spiritual rooms carved directly into the spiritual veins of the outer mountain.
Inside these high-tier cultivation caves, the thick spiritual energy allowed the sect elders to maintain their peak conditions, their terrifying auras occasionally clashing in the atmosphere above the city as rival factions tested each other's boundaries. The streets below were bustling, overflowing with independent merchants, rogue cultivators, and wandering martial artists desperate to catch a glimpse of the titans.
The primary topic on everyone's lips was the mysterious Grand Domain Smith, "Ashen Anvil."
Who was he? Where did he come from? To forge a Peak Domain-grade weapon that perfectly balanced the catastrophic laws of fire and destruction without it detonating required a profound understanding of the Laws of Destruction.
Adding fuel to the roaring fire of public curiosity, the Scarlet Sun Palace made a shocking, open announcement that echoed through the city squares: *"If Senior Ashen Anvil is present in Black Tortoise City, the Scarlet Sun Palace formally extends the position of Supreme Guest Elder! The Senior shall be granted unrestricted access to our Ancestral Core Fire Veins and absolute freedom!"*
This unprecedented offer hyped the mystery to a fever pitch. A Supreme Guest Elder position in a major sect was an offering of unimaginable prestige and wealth. Everyone was desperately curious to know the true identity of the phantom Grandmaster.
Finally, the two-day waiting period ended. The gates of the Star River Merchant Hall opened.
Within the vast, white jade amphitheater, tens of thousands of cultivators flooded the general admission floor, their collective breathing creating a low, rumbling drone. The air was saturated with myriad spiritual signatures, strictly suppressed by the hall's grand arrays.
On the third tier, within the reserved seating area exclusively designated for the Heavenly Forge Division of the Black Tortoise Mountain, sat a trio of figures.
Among them was a completely unremarkable youth wearing the coarse, soot-stained grey robes of a smithing apprentice. His face was plain, and thick, heavy leather gloves covered his hands, hiding the pristine, unblemished skin of his Asura Flesh. To the outside world, this was "Mu Tie," a quiet disciple of the Ironblood Faction, radiating the modest Qi signature of an Early Core Formation cultivator with a Fire Core. Internally, he flawlessly circulated the Shadow Breath Technique, erasing his true presence from the sensory arrays.
Next to him sat Senior Brother Ma Teng, radiating the steady weight of the Core Formation realm, and Elder Huo, the high-end Master Smith, his aura inherently heavy like a dormant volcano.
"Where in the heavens have you been, boy?" Elder Huo chided, his gravelly voice vibrating against the jade seating. He glared at Mu Tie with a mixture of concern and irritation. "Disappearing into seclusion right after the expedition? Do you know what kind of chaos has descended upon this city?!"
Fang Lin offered a sheepish, apologetic smile, lowering his head in the perfect imitation of a chastised junior. "Disciple apologizes, Elder Huo. I encountered a minor bottleneck in my forging comprehension and sought to isolate myself at Peak 74."
Elder Huo snorted, though his eyes softened infinitesimally. "Comprehension? Hmph. You should have been here two days ago. You missed something that would have shattered your meager understanding of the Dao of Forging."
The old man's gaze drifted toward the grand stage at the center of the amphitheater, his expression transforming from stern reprimand to one of absolute, devout reverence. It was a look of religious fervor, a man who had glimpsed the peak of the mountain he had spent his entire life climbing.
"The Grand Domain Smith Ashen Anvil," Elder Huo murmured, the name rolling off his tongue like a sacred mantra. "To weave Domain Laws directly into the marrow of the metal... to forge a weapon that bypasses the limitations of the wielder's own cultivation... It is a miracle. It is the pinnacle. If I could just sweep the floors of this senior's forge, my life would be utterly complete."
Deep within the soul sea, a dark, suffocating presence stirred. The Dark Flame Spirit, an ancient entity born of catastrophic fire, burst into a fit of mocking, ethereal laughter that echoed only in Fang Lin's mind.
*"Ah, listen to the old mortal, Boy,"* the Dark Flame Spirit sneered, its voice dripping with cruel irony and ancient amusement. *"He wishes to sweep your floors! How noble! How grand! Shall we fetch him a broom, O 'Grand Domain Smith Ashen Anvil'? Perhaps you can teach him how to properly lick the ash from your boots!"*
Fang Lin, who had just raised a teacup to his lips, violently choked.
He spurted a mouthful of spirit tea, coughing violently into his sleeve. The sheer absurdity of the situation—his own faction elder practically worshipping a fabricated identity he had thrown together in an afternoon—was too much.
Elder Huo and Ma Teng turned to stare at him, bewildered.
"Are you alright, Junior Brother?" Ma Teng asked, patting Fang Lin's back with genuine concern.
"Fine," Fang Lin wheezed, his face flushed. He nodded humbly toward Elder Huo, wiping his mouth. "The tea... went down the wrong pipe. Please, Elder, tell me more of this... esteemed Grandmaster."
*"Yes, tell us more,"* the Dark Flame Spirit cackled within. *"I am enraptured."*
Elder Huo shook his head, sighing at his apprentice's lack of bearing. "Focus, boy. The auction is beginning."
At the absolute center of the stage, a silver-robed auctioneer stepped up. The early phases of the auction commenced. The items brought out were rare spiritual herbs, ancient monster cores, and high-tier weapons, with bids shouted out rapidly in thousands of Low-Grade Spirit Stones.
Fang Lin watched with quiet calculation. He raised his numbered paddle twice, successfully bidding on a batch of regenerative healing pills using a modest sum of Low-Grade Spirit Stones to perfectly blend in. Beyond that, he ignored the rest of the items. Around him, cultivators fought bitterly over century-old ginseng, but to Fang Lin, they were sheer trash compared to the heaven-defying inheritances gathering dust on the second floor of his Mansion Palace.
Few hours passed. The early auction concluded. The time had finally come.
From the shadows, Grandmaster Viserion, the Star River Merchant Alliance's most renowned appraiser, approached the frost jade array. He did not touch the massive mace; he merely stood before it, reading the world's fabric around it.
"I have appraised treasures for four hundred years," Viserion's voice echoed across the silent hall. "Yet, looking upon the *Volcanic Annihilation*, I must confess my own ignorance. I can only understand a slight fraction of the profound forging method used here. The creator, Senior Ashen Anvil, has woven the absolute laws of fire and destruction into the very fabric of the metal. Even if one cannot wield it, buying this artifact merely to study the forging method as a supreme reference... to pay respects to the profound Dao it represents, would be a supreme honor."
The words sparked a wildfire of intense desire among the independent smiths.
"But words are hollow," Viserion said. "To truly comprehend it, one must witness its weight and function."
A figure descended from the vaulted ceiling, wearing robes of deep starlight. A Domain Forging Realm expert of the Star River Pavilion.
The expert gripped the hilt, shattered the frost array, and flew straight up into the air, hovering high above the auction floor.
*"Activate."*
The dull characters—*Ashen Anvil*—flared with a blinding light.
*BOOM!*
An inverted sea of magma erupted outward in the sky above the amphitheater. The Domain skill of the *Volcanic Annihilation* was unleashed. There was no killing intent, only a pure manifestation of absolute laws. Massive, illusory boulders of molten obsidian floated in the sky, orbiting the expert like miniature planets.
The crowd did not scream in terror; they fell to their knees in absolute, paralyzing awe. The crushing weight of the eradication laws pressed down on their spiritual perception, forcing them to revere the sheer immensity of the natural Dao displayed before them.
Slowly, the expert retracted the magma sea, descended, placed the mace back on the pedestal, and vanished.
For a long time, the hall was dead silent.
Then, on the third tier, a sharp gasp broke the quiet. A Rank 3 Master Smith from the Heavenly Forge Division pointed a trembling finger at the cooling metal.
"That... that rhythm!" the Rank 3 smith stammered, staring at the microscopic tempering grain. "The overlapping hammer strikes... I know that style! Look at the grain, Elder Huo! It perfectly matches the Ironblood Faction's unique style!"
Elder Huo froze. He leaned forward, hyper-focusing on the massive weapon. His heart slammed against his ribs. It was true. The foundational hammer rhythm was identical to the signature technique he had taught his disciples, only magnified to a terrifying, profound extreme!
In his seat, Fang Lin kept his head lowered. It was a subtle, intentional signature he had left behind to repay Elder Huo for his past guidance.
The murmurs spread like a tidal wave. Suddenly, the sharp, oppressive eyes of the major sect elders locked onto Elder Huo.
"Elder Huo!" a nearby smith shouted. "Are *you* the Grandmaster Ashen Anvil in disguise?!"
Elder Huo's face drained of color. He vehemently waved his hands, sweating profusely. "Preposterous! I am but dust before the profound might of Senior Ashen Anvil! The Senior must have merely observed our faction's foundational style in passing and perfected it to the extreme!"
Fang Lin looked deeply humbled and slightly awkward, nodding along in agreement to maintain his disguise, causing the Dark Flame Spirit to howl with even more laughter in his mind.
Though Elder Huo denied it, the connection was forged. The previously small Ironblood Faction was suddenly bathed in immense reverence. However, recognizing that Elder Huo and his faction were direct subjects of the Black Tortoise Mountain, the major sects like the Heavenly Sword Lake did not approach them openly to demand answers. Instead, they watched the Ironblood Faction from their balconies with extreme, calculating interest.
On the central stage, the silver-robed auctioneer returned.
"The Grandmaster, Senior Ashen Anvil, has set a single, absolute rule for this transaction," the auctioneer announced, his voice solemn. "For the *Volcanic Annihilation*... only High-Grade Spirit Stones will be accepted."
A collective, hollow gasp rippled through the amphitheater. One High-Grade Spirit Stone was equivalent to ten thousand Low-Grade Spirit Stones. They were the apex currency of the Demon Immortal Continent.
"The starting bid," the auctioneer declared mercilessly. "Is One Thousand High-Grade Spirit Stones."
A profound despair washed over ninety percent of the attendees. The sheer magnitude of the currency established an insurmountable gap between the commoners and the true titans. They were not even qualified to participate.
In the VIP balconies, the terrifying auras of the major sects flared. The orthodox sects and the primal factions prepared to bleed each other dry, and the final clash began.
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