NOVEL WEB Chapter 56: Raising the Bar!
Khan Family Auction Grounds…
"13,000 spirit stones…" suddenly, a loud call came from Room Number 7.
Both Fatty Lambu and Jia Kai turned their heads toward Mo Han in utter shock.
Everyone's eyes—noble elders, arrogant young masters, sword-wielding cultivators, and delicate noble ladies—were fixed on the stage where the golden plate held the glowing, crimson shafted spear.
And now, for the first time, a direct confrontation had begun—two mysterious bidders, Room No. 13 and Room No. 7, locked in a fierce battle of wealth.
"14000 Spirit Stones!" A loud and commanding cry came from Private room number 13.
"15000 spirit stones!" Mo Han's voice rang out again, calm yet thunderous, echoing from Room No. 7.
A wave of murmurs swept through the Auction hall like a strong breeze.
"Who are these two?"
"They're mad!"
"Is the Firebolt really worth so much?"
"What kind of cultivators are sitting in Room 7 and 13?"
Inside the grand stage, Soya Khan finally exhaled deeply as a smile blossomed across her face like the first lotus on a still lake.
"Good... Very Good… Young Master Han, I really owe a favor!" she muttered under her breath, a gleam of excitement lighting up her usually composed expression.
From behind her, the servant girl whispered, "Young miss, the item is already at the price we expected."
Soya gave a slight nod without losing her poise. "Yes, but let's not show relief too early. The play has just begun."
"16,000 spirit stones!"
The voice from Room No. 13 came again, this time with an edge—strong, but barely hiding the irritation behind the calm exterior.
Fatty Lambu, seated beside Mo Han in Room No. 7, was already sweating profusely. His eyes darted between Mo Han and Jia Kai like a trapped beast. Jia Kai, who understood Mo Han's strategy, began enjoying the auction.
"Brother… please, enough already. This isn't just gambling… this is financial suicide! 15,000 can feed an entire sect for a year!" he whispered, his hands trembling.
"17,000 spirit stones," Mo Han declared once more, completely ignoring Fatty's laments. His gaze was calm and unshaken, as if bidding for carrots in a morning market.
The crowd outside burst into gasps again. Even some of the seasoned elders began whispering among themselves.
In the private Room No. 13, a group of robed individuals sat, their expressions slowly turning darker.
"Who is that bastard in Room No. 7? Is he trying to humiliate us?" a young cultivator asked with a clenched jaw.
The old man leading them narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "Keep bidding. This spear was ours from the beginning."
"18,000 spirit stones."
"18,500!"
"18,900…"
Mo Han and Room 13 went back and forth like two swordsmen dueling, each strike more powerful than the last. The entire auction hall was completely silent, the crowd too stunned to even murmur anymore.
Soya's heart was beating rapidly behind her composed smile. This is it. This… this is how you hype up a divine weapon.
"Whoever those men are, they're both crazy. But they're the best thing that's happened to this auction," the servants of the Khan family murmured in excitement.
Back in Room No. 7, Fatty Lambu was gripping his own robes as if clinging to life itself.
"Brother, please! What will we eat? How will we survive? We'll be beggars!"
"Don't worry," Mo Han replied, smirking, "You always said you wanted to lose weight."
Even Jia Kai chuckled softly at that.
"You two! Stop being crazy!" Fatty nearly wailed.
"20,000 spirit stones!" the voice from Room 13 cut through again.
There was a pause. Even Mo Han leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious for the first time.
"22,000 spirit stones," Mo Han said, raising the bar once more.
A collective gasp erupted like thunder among the crowd. This was the price of a small clan's yearly earnings. The entire arena was on edge, hanging on the next number like the final scene of a dramatic opera.
Inside Room No. 13, the elder gritted his teeth. His fingers twitched slightly before he raised them once again.
"23,000 spirit stones."
But this time, there was hesitation in his voice. It was clear. It was not just about wealth now—it was about pride, about image, about the weight of losing to an unknown bidder.
Room No. 7 remained silent for a few seconds.
Mo Han leaned back into his chair with a slight smile.
"That's it," he said. "He wants it more."
Fatty Lambu nearly cried out in relief and hugged his sleeves. "You listened to me! You finally did!"
Jia Kai shook her head with a smile. "No. He didn't listen to you, Fatty. He just didn't want to carry that spear. It doesn't suit him."
"Why? Why doesn't it suit him?" Fatty asked in confusion.
Mo Han answered for her. "Because I prefer… swords."
On stage, Soya raised her hand high.
"23,000 spirit stones… going once… going twice… going thrice—SOLD to Room No. 13!"
The hall erupted in claps, gasps, and murmurs. It wasn't just a sale—it was an event. A moment that would be remembered in Green Jade City for years to come.
Soya bowed slightly with elegance, hiding her overwhelming relief.
"Congratulations to our mysterious guest in Room No. 13. You've obtained the Firebolt, a divine work of the heavenly dwarven smiths."
But even her sharp merchant eyes noticed the lack of joy in the final bidder's voice. That last "23,000" had sounded… bitter.
Disappointment was hidden behind the thin wall of success. Everyone knew—Room No. 13 had paid more than they intended. They had been forced into this.
The lavish interior of Room Number 13 was dead silent, despite the victorious announcement from the auction stage.
The Firebolt Spear had just been won—but instead of celebration, tension hung thick in the air like the aftertaste of bitter medicine.
An old man with snowy white hair and fierce eagle-like eyes sat on the central seat of the room. His posture was straight despite his age, and a frost-like pressure radiated from him—this was Dong Xian, the former Patriarch of the Dong Family, known across the eastern countries as the Steel-Tyrant of the-East.
On either side stood his grandchildren: the calm and proud Dong Lianhua, an ice element cultivator known for her stoic beauty and commanding presence, and her younger brother, Dong Ming, a fiery youth who now clenched his fists hard-enough to make his knuckles bleed.
Dong Xian's aged voice finally broke the silence. It was soft—but each word struck like a sledgehammer.
"That brat from Room Seven… played us like street merchants."
Dong Ming gritted his teeth. "Grandfather, if I had just shouted faster… he would've had to pay more!"
Lady Dong Lianhua shot him a sharp glance. "Idiot. That's exactly what he wanted. He baited us to climb. Every bid of his was measured—deliberate. We paid 23,000 for a weapon worth barely twelve."