The Golden City Auction House was an institution that transcended borders. It had branches in every major city across the Southern Domain, serving as a massive vacuum cleaner that sucked up resources from the bottom and funneled them to the top.
The branch in Mortal Dust City was a three-story building constructed of red cedar and reinforced with gold leaf. It stood out among the gray stone buildings of the city like a peacock in a flock of pigeons.
Two guards stood at the entrance. They were not mortal soldiers, but cultivators at the 2nd Layer of Qi Condensation. Their eyes scanned the crowd with practiced arrogance, filtering out the poor, the desperate, and the unworthy.
Li Fan adjusted his bamboo hat.
He was still wearing the dusty robes of "Zhang San," and the Heaven-Deceiving Copper Coin was humming in his dantian, blurring his aura into an enigmatic gray fog.
He walked up the steps.
"Halt," one guard said, stepping forward. "Entry requires a proof of capital. One hundred gold coins or one Spirit Stone."
Li Fan didn't speak. He reached into his sleeve and flicked his thumb.
A single, low-grade Spirit Stone spun through the air, catching the light before landing precisely in the guard's palm.
The guard looked at the stone, then at the mysterious figure in the bamboo hat. The casual toss implied wealth.
"Welcome, honored guest," the guard said, stepping aside instantly.
Li Fan walked in.
The interior was cool and smelled of sandalwood incense. Mortal servants in silk robes glided across the floor, serving tea to merchants and low-level cultivators.
Li Fan ignored the main hall. He walked straight to the counter labeled "Appraisals."
Behind the counter sat an old man with a monocle. He was examining a pearl necklace brought in by a nervous-looking merchant.
"Fake," the old man droned, tossing the necklace back. "It's painted glass. Next."
The merchant left, head hanging.
Li Fan stepped up.
"I have an item to consign," Li Fan rasped, his altered voice sounding like grinding stones.
The old man didn't look up. "We don't buy mortal jewelry, antique vases, or family heirlooms unless they have spiritual fluctuations. If it's trash, take it to the pawnshop down the street."
"It is a mineral," Li Fan said.
"We have plenty of iron ore," the old man sighed, finally looking up. He saw the bamboo hat and the dusty robes. His expression soured. "Look, friend, unless you found a Spirit Stone mine, I'm not interested."
Li Fan reached into his robe.
He pulled out the fist-sized chunk of the Star-Fall Meteorite Iron he had chipped off the main block earlier. It was black, ugly, and pitted.
He placed it on the velvet counter.
Thud.
The sound was heavy. Much heavier than a rock of that size should be. The counter groaned under the weight.
The old man blinked. He reached out to pick it up, expecting it to weigh a few pounds.
His hand strained. His veins popped. He couldn't lift it with one hand.
"What in the..." The old man put down his monocle and used both hands to heave the rock closer. "It's heavy. Is it Lead Essence?"
"Heat it," Li Fan said.
"Excuse me?"
"Apply your Spirit Fire to it," Li Fan commanded. "If you are an appraiser of the Golden City, surely you know the basic test for star metals."
The old man narrowed his eyes. "You think this is star metal? It looks like a lump of coal."
But his curiosity was piqued. The density was undeniable.
The old man placed his hand over the rock. A small, orange flame—the signature of a low-level cultivator using a Fire Art—flickered on his palm. He pressed the flame against the black surface.
Usually, normal rock would crack or turn red. Iron would begin to glow.
The black rock drank the fire.
The orange flame vanished into the pitted surface as if it were water being poured into a sponge. The rock remained pitch black, cold to the touch.
The old man's eyes widened. He pushed more Qi. The flame grew hotter, turning blue.
The rock absorbed it all.
"It... it eats Qi," the old man whispered. He looked up at Li Fan, his arrogance replaced by shock. "It's inert? No... it's Nullifying."
"Star-Fall Meteorite Iron," Li Fan said calmly. "Specifically, the core. The outer shell burned away centuries ago. What you are holding is pure, compressed starlight that has cooled for a millennium."
The old man's hands trembled.
Star-Fall Meteorite Iron. It was the primary ingredient for crafting Earth-Grade weapons. A sword made of this could shatter a cultivator's protective Qi barrier because the metal itself ignored Qi. It was the bane of defensive arts.
"I... I need to call the Branch Manager," the old man stammered. "This is beyond my authority."
"Go," Li Fan said. "You have five minutes."
The old man scrambled out from behind the counter and disappeared through a curtained door.
Li Fan stood still, his hand resting on the counter.
Around him, other customers were staring. They hadn't seen the test, but they saw the old appraiser run like his pants were on fire. They looked at the man in the bamboo hat with wary respect.
In the cultivation world, Li Fan mused, respect is not given to the virtuous. It is given to the profitable.
Two minutes later, the curtain parted.
A woman walked out.
She was stunning. She wore a red cheongsam that hugged her curves, revealing a scandalous amount of leg. Her hair was pinned up with jade sticks, and her lips were painted a deep crimson.
But Li Fan didn't look at her legs. He looked at her hands.
They were calloused at the fingertips. She was a puppet master.
Madame Yu. The manager of this branch. A Foundation Establishment cultivator (Mid-Stage).
In Life 200, she had tried to seduce Li Fan to steal his cultivation technique. In Life 500, she had been his business partner. She was ruthless, intelligent, and dangerous.
"Welcome to my humble shop," Madame Yu purred, her voice like warm honey. She walked to the counter, ignoring the rock and looking directly at Li Fan's shadowed face. "I am Yu Yan. And you are?"
"A seller," Li Fan said.
"A seller with a treasure," she corrected, trailing a long fingernail over the black rock. "My appraiser tells me this is Star-Fall Iron. A rare find in a mortal city."
"It was used as a doorstop," Li Fan said dryly.
Madame Yu laughed. It was a practiced, melodic sound. "Fate has a sense of humor. Sir, we are very interested in this. However..."
Her eyes sharpened. "The provenance? We cannot sell stolen goods from the major sects."
"It has no sect markings," Li Fan said. "It is wild harvest. Found in the ruins of an old mine."
"I see." She tapped the rock. "Five hundred Spirit Stones."
It was a lowball. A massive lowball.
Li Fan didn't flinch. He reached out and picked up the rock. It looked effortless in his hand (thanks to a specific leverage technique he used).
"I will take it to the Black Market in the Eastern District," Li Fan said, turning to leave. "They ask fewer questions and pay better."
"Wait," Madame Yu called out. Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed. "Sir is impatient. Negotiation is a dance. One thousand."
Li Fan stopped. He didn't turn around. "Three thousand. And a VIP membership card."
"Three thousand?" Madame Yu raised an eyebrow. "That is the price for a refined ingot. This is raw ore. We have to pay a blacksmith to smelt it. That costs money."
"This chunk weighs twelve pounds," Li Fan said, turning his head slightly. "Even after slag removal, you will get ten pounds of pure iron. Enough for two short swords. An Earth-Grade sword sells for five thousand each. You stand to make ten thousand gross profit. Offering me one thousand is an insult to my intelligence."
Madame Yu paused.
She analyzed him.
His voice was disguised. His aura was hidden. But his math was perfect. He knew the market rates, the smelting loss ratios, and the profit margins. This wasn't a lucky peasant who found a rock. This was an experienced rogue cultivator.
"You are knowledgeable," Madame Yu admitted, her tone shifting from seductive to professional. "Two thousand five hundred. That is my ceiling for raw ore."
Li Fan turned back to the counter. He placed the rock down again.
"Five thousand," Li Fan said.
"Sir, I just said—"
"Five thousand," Li Fan interrupted. "But not for this rock."
He reached into his other sleeve.
He pulled out the second chunk. The larger one. The one he had kept hidden. This piece was the size of a human head, weighing nearly twenty pounds.
He slammed it onto the counter next to the first one.
BOOM.
The counter cracked.
Madame Yu jumped back, her composure cracking for a split second.
"Two pieces?" she gasped.
"Total weight, thirty-two pounds," Li Fan said. "Enough for a heavy saber or a suit of armor. Five thousand Spirit Stones for the lot. Cash. Now."
Madame Yu stared at the pile of black gold on her counter. Thirty-two pounds of Star-Fall Iron. This was enough to make her branch the top performer in the entire Southern Domain for the year.
She looked at Li Fan. The mystery around him deepened. Who walks around with a fortune in rocks in their sleeves?
"Five thousand," she decided instantly. "Deal."
She snapped her fingers. "Bring the funds. And a Gold VIP Card."
Servants scrambled.
Ten minutes later, Li Fan walked out of the Golden City Auction House.
His pouch was heavy. It contained a spatial bag (a gift from Madame Yu) filled with 5,000 low-grade Spirit Stones.
He walked down the street, merging into the crowd.
"Five thousand stones," Li Fan whispered, feeling the weight of the spatial bag against his hip. "Enough to buy five hundred Spirit Condensation Pills."
He checked the sky. It was getting dark.
"Next stop, The Apothecary. Tonight, we break the laws of cultivation."