Silence fell over the VIP lounge.
Executive Woody of the Sacred Foundation Bank stared at Lin Mo with a mixture of profound terror and absolute awe. Matriarch Layla's hands were actually trembling.
Even someone who only dabbles in lending to poor cultivators could see the astronomical returns of a system fueled by raw, unfiltered vanity.
"To weaponize 'face'..." Woody breathed out, removing a silk handkerchief from his robes to dab at his forehead. "In our world, face and reputation are worth more than life itself. Sect Masters will bankrupt their ancestral treasuries just to ensure their sect's name is placed higher than their rivals on a meaningless stele. To put that competition on a digital stage, visible to millions simultaneously..."
