Tan Huai hurriedly explained, “Ah, these two are my friends. They’re cultivation partners. The two of them wanted to see the treasures of Manxiang Pavilion, so I brought them along.”
At the mention of “treasures,” Sang Dai’s gaze returned to the Chunying Sword on the auction platform.
The sword looked exactly as it had in her memories: the blade was slender, the hilt entirely silver-white, and the characters “Chunying” were inscribed in a vigorous, flowing script. The sword intent was simple and robust, exuding an air of antiquity.
Sang Dai tightened her grip on Su Xuan’s hand. The little fox noticed her emotional shift and gently patted the back of her hand with his other hand.
Sang Dai said nothing, remaining seated in her wooden chair. Her expression betrayed no hint of her inner turmoil.
Wu Hanshu also directed his attention to the sword.
His expression shifted noticeably—cold and indifferent when looking at Sang Dai, but his eyes lit up the moment they landed on the Chunying Sword.
The woman walked to the auction platform, picked up the sword, and carried it to the center of the aisle.
She held the sword horizontally in both hands and said, “This is the personal sword of Immortal Lord Ying Heng, his life-bound sword—Chunying.”
Sang Dai pressed her lips together. The last time she saw Chunying was in Tianyuxue’s memories, but that had only been an illusion. Now, she was seeing the actual Chunying Sword for the first time.
Just as Sang Dai was about to stand up and reach for the Chunying Sword, someone acted faster.
Wu Hanshu stood up and took the Chunying Sword directly.
The sword lay quietly and silently in his palm. His expression was filled with intense emotion, and his eyes gradually reddened. It was unclear what memories had surfaced, but the hand holding the sword was trembling.
The Chunying Sword seemed on the verge of slipping from his grasp.
“Chunying… Brother Ying…”
The sword remained, but the man was gone.
Wu Hanshu’s voice trembled as he said, “I’ll take it. This sword.”
Sang Dai suddenly stood up. “City Lord Wu, I also admire this sword. Since this is an auction, it should go to the highest bidder.”
Wu Hanshu looked over, his dark eyes sharp and intense.
“Naturally. How much would the young lady like to bid?”
“Ten thousand superior-grade spirit stones.”
The one who spoke was Su Xuan.
Wu Hanshu furrowed his brow. The male cultivator who had been sitting silently next to the woman, holding her hand intimately, had kept his head down the entire time.
But judging by their attire, this pair of cultivation partners were clearly wealthy.
To bid ten thousand right off the bat—it seemed they had deep pockets.
Wu Hanshu chuckled softly.
“Fifteen thousand.”
Su Xuan’s voice remained cold. “Twenty thousand.”
Wu Hanshu: “…”
He hadn’t even had the chance to escalate gradually, and the bid had already jumped to twenty thousand. Was this man burning money?
Wu Hanshu said, “Twenty-five thousand.”
“Thirty thousand,” Su Xuan replied flatly.
Sang Dai and Tan Huai sat silently, listening to the two men go back and forth.
Even the woman conducting the auction, who had seen countless spectacles in her time, was stunned. Never had she witnessed a bidding war escalate like this—from a starting price of three thousand to tens of thousands of spirit stones.
“Ah, gentlemen…”
“Shut up.”
Wu Hanshu and Su Xuan spoke in unison.
The woman wisely closed her mouth.
It seemed her shopkeeper was right—this single sale might earn her a lifetime’s worth of commission.
When the bid reached fifty thousand, Sang Dai finally couldn’t hold back any longer. She scratched Su Xuan’s palm with her finger, their hands still intertwined.
For some reason, Sang Dai felt Su Xuan’s hand growing increasingly hot.
She gave him a look: It’s too much.
The little fox scoffed coldly: I’m wealthy.
He raised the bid again. “Five hundred and ten thousand.”
Wu Hanshu fell silent.
He had already committed almost his entire fortune, all the wealth he had saved over the past centuries. Yet this male cultivator seemed to come from an incredibly wealthy sect—fifty thousand superior-grade spirit stones could easily cover a sect’s entire expenses for ten years, and this man didn’t even blink as he offered more.
Wu Hanshu gritted his teeth. “Fellow Daoist, are you here to ruin the auction? Do you even have over half a million?”
Su Xuan’s expression remained impassive as he raised an eyebrow slightly. “City Lord, feel free to test it. Let’s see who can produce the money—me or you?”
Wu Hanshu glared at him coldly.
The tension between them grew, but suddenly Wu Hanshu lowered his gaze.
“Fellow Daoist, this sword means a great deal to me. Immortal Lord Ying Heng was a dear friend of mine, and I cannot bear to see his sword fall into the hands of strangers. If you’re willing to compromise, I, Wu Hanshu, am willing to offer you my assistance in any matter you need.”
His words were sincere, but unfortunately, Su Xuan was not someone who dealt in reason.
Whatever his sword cultivator wanted, even if it cost a million, he would buy it.
The little fox decisively refused, “No. I want this sword.”
The atmosphere grew even more tense.
The woman conducting the auction didn’t dare to speak, while Sang Dai remained expressionless. Wu Hanshu and Su Xuan locked eyes, cold determination evident in both.
Tan Huai cautiously interjected, “Uh… how about splitting it in half?”
Everyone turned to stare at him.
Sang Dai wanted to crack his skull open to see what kind of thoughts were inside.
Tan Huai, feeling wronged, muttered, “You’re just stuck in a standoff. Who’s going to get it in the end? Someone has to pay. If… if we offer more, then it should go to us.”
He nervously wiped at nonexistent sweat, narrowly avoiding spilling Su Xuan’s true identity.
Su Xuan’s face had already turned an unnatural shade of red. Taking a long breath, he said firmly, “Five hundred and fifty thousand. This sword—”
“Wait.”
The sword cultivator suddenly interrupted.
Both Wu Hanshu and Su Xuan turned to look at her.
Sang Dai released Su Xuan’s hand and stood up, walking toward the sword.
“City Lord Wu, may I take another look at this sword?”
Wu Hanshu hesitated at first, but Sang Dai extended her hand, her expression resolute.
After a moment’s hesitation, he handed the sword to her.
Sang Dai held the sword carefully, examining it back and forth. With one hand, she touched the hilt, her fingertips tracing the patterns and grooves etched into the surface.
She examined the sword for a full quarter of an hour, long enough for Wu Hanshu to grow impatient. Just as he reached out to snatch the sword back, Sang Dai finally moved.
“This is not the real Chunying Sword.”
The auction room fell into silence.
Then, the woman’s sharp voice broke the stillness.
“Impossible!”
She snatched the Chunying Sword in a hurry, looking visibly upset. “Manxiang Pavilion never sells counterfeits. If the young lady doesn’t want to buy it, there’s no need to fabricate lies to slander us.”
But Sang Dai had carefully observed it and was already certain.
She pointed to the sword’s hilt. “One hundred and fifty years ago, when Immortal Lord Ying.Heng eradicated evil in Dingyuan City, he used this sword to block the claw of a full-stage Nascent Soul demonic beast. That claw left a mark on the hilt. Later, Immortal Lord Ying Heng went to Penglai to repair it with black iron, but it was ineffective. A faint scar remained. Many across the Four Realms know this story. Yet, this sword has no such mark on its hilt.”
What’s more, Sang Dai remembered vividly: when she was five years old, she had pestered Ying Heng for her own sword. To appease her, he had engraved the words “Sang Dai’s Sword” on the scabbard of Chunying.
The sword spirit of Chunying, protective of her, had indulged Ying Heng’s childish act.
But this sword’s scabbard bore no such inscription.
Taking a deep breath, she firmly declared, “This isn’t Chunying. Where is the real Chunying Sword?”
Wu Hanshu grabbed the sword, scrutinizing the hilt inch by inch.
He had seen Ying Heng’s sword before and vividly remembered the scar on its hilt. Ying Heng had even written to him back then, asking if he had a way to repair it.
But this sword’s hilt was flawless—smooth, even, and pristine.
The woman shook her head in disbelief. “Impossible… Manxiang Pavilion never sells counterfeits… and it’s impossible for anyone to have swapped the items. The mechanism storing the Chunying Sword was designed by our Chunqiu Pavilion Master, Qiu Chengxi.”
If no one had swapped the sword, then the conclusion was clear—
From the very beginning, this sword was a fake.
“You… Manxiang Pavilion conducts business like this?”
Wu Hanshu flung his sleeves and stormed out, his back radiating anger.
“No… no way… how could this happen…”
The woman stumbled out, clutching the sword, seemingly to report the matter to her manager.
Tan Huai scratched his bald head, looking genuinely puzzled. “How did it turn out to be fake?”
Sang Dai pinched the bridge of her nose. Who would use a counterfeit Chunying Sword to lure her here? Could it have been that figure behind the scenes?
What was their motive in doing this?
Or… could it not have been his doing?
“…Beast King?”
Tan Huai’s hesitant voice suddenly rang out behind her.
Sang Dai froze and quickly turned to look.
The figure that had been calmly seated earlier, after Wu Hanshu and the remaining guests had left, now appeared utterly drained. Su Xuan was slumped over the table, his face flushed, and his forehead damp with fine beads of sweat.
Sang Dai recalled his earlier odd behavior.
“Su Xuan!”
She rushed forward without hesitation.
Tan Huai stood up. “This isn’t right. The Beast King’s body temperature is extremely high.”
The heat they had felt earlier wasn’t due to the crowd—it was because Su Xuan’s body temperature was rising. He was struggling to suppress his Hellfire.
Sang Dai touched the side of his face, her heart sinking as she felt how alarmingly hot it was.
“Su Xuan, what’s wrong? Can you still see me?”
Su Xuan lay on the table, his lashes trembling slightly as his eyes half-closed. His breaths came hot and labored, and two fluffy fox ears stood erect.
“I’ll help you take a look.”
Her heartbeat was erratic as she reached out to check his meridians, but before she could, he grabbed her hand.
The little fox began biting her hand, pulling her fingertips into his mouth and gently nibbling at them with his small canine teeth. His voice was hoarse and heated as he murmured, “Dai Dai… Dai Dai…”
Tan Huai immediately turned away, clasping his hands together in prayer as he chanted, “See no evil, hear no evil…”
Sang Dai was too stunned to process what Su Xuan was doing.
“Su Xuan, what’s happening to you?”
Just as she spoke, she noticed the jade tablet at his waist flickering on and off.
Who knows how long it had been ringing—Su Xuan had completely ignored it.
Sang Dai paused in surprise before quickly picking it up.
From the other end came an urgent voice: “Get back here immediately! You know what Jiexin Grass is! How long have you been in there?”
It was Liu Lixue.
Sang Dai, flustered, asked, “Young Master Liu, what’s going on?”
The little fox continued holding her left hand, nibbling on her fingers. Sang Dai suppressed the tingling pain and worked to steady her voice.
Liu Lixue hesitated for a moment, then realized: “The Sovereign isn’t there?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, his face is so red—ah!”
The little fox licked her wrist.
Tan Huai immediately bolted for the door. “I—I’ll leave first! I’ll wait for you outside!”
On the other end of the jade tablet, Liu Lixue paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with barely suppressed frustration.
“It’s already started, hasn’t it?”
Sang Dai: “…What’s started? What’s happening to him?”
“The miasma is caused by Jiexin Grass, which is a plant the Nine-Tailed Fox clan uses to induce heat. The Nine-Tailed Foxes have difficulty reproducing. When they decide to conceive offspring, they often burn this type of immortal herb. The effects begin within one to two hours, extending the mating period and significantly increasing the likelihood of pregnancy. So…”
Sang Dai’s mind went blank.
The effects begin within one to two hours after exposure, and they had already been in this room for over two hours.
Suddenly, the little fox straightened up and wrapped his arms around Sang Dai’s waist. With a tug, he pulled her into his embrace, softly whining as he gently bit at her collarbone.
“L-Lady Sang, the Sovereign’s condition is likely serious. The Jiexin Grass has an extremely potent aphrodisiac effect on the Nine-Tailed Fox clan. I’m already on my way to the Ghost Market’s border to assist. You must bring him back immediately.”
“Right now—bring the Sovereign back.”