On the crystal platform, the white-haired auctioneer rambled passionately about the ancient, weathered fragment, emphasizing its mysterious qualities, striving with every ounce of energy to elevate its perceived value. Yet, the effect seemed limited, as growing impatience began to surface among the audience—some even erupted in sharp complaints. Observing the lukewarm response from the lower seats, the white-haired auctioneer sighed, shook his head, swallowed hard to moisten his dry throat, and offered a wry smile. "According to the set terms, the starting bid for this fragment is fifty thousand gold coins. Now, let the auction begin." As his words settled, the vast hall fell instantly silent. Several attendees stared at him as though he were a fool—how would anyone spend fifty thousand gold coins on an item whose very authenticity remained uncertain? And wouldn't a wealthy patron simply hesitate to squander funds in such a manner? The gaze beneath the black robe was fixed intently on the ancient cloth fragment. Had it not been for the shadow of the cloak, anyone could have seen the visible excitement on that flushed face. Taking a deep breath, Xiao Yan forcibly suppressed the surge of emotion within him. Reason told him that this was not the optimal moment to make an offer. Should his actions provoke suspicion or draw attention from the leading powers ahead, the item would likely fall into the hands of someone else—indeed, Xiao Yan himself was well aware that, with his current financial capacity, he simply could not compete with those forces. Gazing at the quiet in the hall and the countless mocking glances, the white-haired auctioneer couldn't help but shake his head again in resignation, silently criticizing the individuals who had set the valuation prices. Though the fabric was old, it was merely tattered, and the information it conveyed was far from sufficient to reveal what secrets it might hold. With so much still unknown, even he himself lacked strong confidence that the bid would reach ten thousand. "Is this guy crazy? Spending eleven ten thousand to buy some useless, outdated thing whose purpose no one knows?" Not only the people behind, but even some of the front-line factions were casting slightly astonished glances at Xiao Yan, who stood wrapped entirely in black robes. On the crystal platform, upon hearing someone finally place a bid, the auctioneer quietly exhaled, then looked up and smiled toward Xiao Yan's location, saying, "This gentleman has bid 110,000. Are there any others who would like to increase their bids?" Hearing this, countless people rolled their eyes—did the world really have that many fools? It seemed the auctioneer himself knew the question was in vain, so he gave a slightly embarrassed smile and prepared to drop his auction hammer. "Wait a moment," a calm voice suddenly interrupted, causing the hammer in the auctioneer's hand to stiffen. With a look of curiosity, the auctioneer turned to where the voice came from and found Fan Ling, the deputy head of the Blood Sect, slowly standing up. He was momentarily taken aback and smiled, "Is this the deputy head's doing?" Without paying attention to him, Fan Ling turned around, his cold gaze fixed on the black-robed man seated motionless in his chair. Then, he chuckled softly and said, "Nothing special—just recently, I've developed a sudden interest in this item. I'll go with 130,000." Beneath the black robe, his originally excited gaze suddenly sharpened. His fist clenched tightly within the folds of his sleeve, causing the robe to tremble slightly. Xiao Yan's eyes, piercing through the brim of his hat, fixed steadily on the pale young man, his inner ki struggling to contain itself—boiling like a roaring lake, surging through his meridians. "Stay calm! Fretting now only harms you!" As the ki within him threatened to burst forth, Master Yao's gentle command rang out like a thunderclap, startling Xiao Yan from his fury. Taking a deep breath, Xiao Yan leaned back against the soft chair, appearing relaxed, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, as though merely arguing with someone casually: "Fifteen thousand." Xiao Yan's bid caused a slight lift of Fan Ling's brow—among the attendees, he was the first solo bidder to directly compete with him, aside from those with powerful backing. "Twenty thousand." "Staring at Xiao Yan for a long time, the young deputy of the Blood Sect raised his hand and added nearly fifty thousand more to the price. 'Deputy...'" Observing the elder beside Fan Ling, who had now stood up, the elder couldn't help but feel that while it was understandable to spend a considerable amount for the flying technique earlier, it now seemed illogical to spend unnecessary money and argue with someone unfamiliar—this was truly inconsistent with Fan Ling's usual demeanor. "Sit down!" Fan Ling's face grew cold as he sharply commanded the elder. The flash of irritation across his face sent a chill through the elder, who reluctantly retreated. The sudden and inexplicable bidding competition immediately caused surprise among the crowd. No one could quite understand what was going on—how could the young deputy be acting so strangely, suddenly arguing with a stranger over price, seemingly doing harm to himself and others? This was truly unusual. Of course, besides those people still confused, the auctioneer standing on the crystal platform burst into laughter—never expecting that something once deemed largely useless would spark bidding from two parties, and among them, one was the wealthy heir of the Blood Sect. The palm within his sleeve trembled slightly, yet Xiao Yan struggled to regain composure. "Stop bidding against him," the elder Yin said in a steady voice. "If you continue like this, other factions will soon begin to notice. Right now, Fan Ling is merely testing the waters, driven by suspicion and hesitancy. But if you insist on pushing him further, you'll inevitably reveal the true value of that mysterious, fragmented map. And once that happens, it's unlikely others won't also step in—given your current financial standing, you simply won't be able to compete with the well-established, long-standing powerhouses." As Xiao Yan hesitated, unwilling to give up, the elder Yin's calm words suddenly echoed. "What shall we do? Can we simply let this tattered map slip away from our sight?" Xiao Yan gritted his teeth. "We must secure the 'Pure Lotus Demon Flame.' Therefore, we need to collect all these maps. However, we must keep absolutely silent about the Pure Lotus Demon Flame—no hint, no trace. So, under such a crowd, we should make sure this tattered map doesn't draw too much attention. Otherwise, even though only half of the map's patterns are visible, someone with keen eyes might recognize it. And once that happens, we'll truly be in serious trouble..." Yao Lao spoke slowly. "You mean we should have Fan Ling take the map?" Xiao Yan frowned. "Since he desires it, let him have it for now. But—have I not also emphasized that this must ultimately be ours?" Yao Lao's voice carried a slightly cold tone. "So you're thinking of quietly seizing it back later?" A quiet, sharp glint flashed in Xiao Yan's dark eyes. "As you've said, that tattered map—we must secure it at all costs, even if he's merely the junior chief of the Blood Sect. There's no hesitation needed." The old medicine master coldly remarked. "Since he wants it, give it to him first. Don't show too much interest in it, or people will suspect something." Taking a slow, steady breath, Xiao Yan silently nodded, suppressing the swirling thoughts within him. His solemn gaze, shadowed beneath his cloak, swept toward Fan Ling, and he settled back into his chair, remaining silent. Observing Xiao Yan's demeanor, Fan Ling's brows furrowed. Had he misjudged him? Was this purchase merely casual and incidental? With these thoughts running through his mind, Fan Ling's expression grew increasingly strained. The steady, almost patronizing glances pouring in from around the room—like those of a fool or a madman—made him wince slightly. He let out a cold sigh, turned, and sat back in his chair with a heavy thud, his face now dark and grim. "Heh, Master Fan Ling, who bid twenty thousand gold coins for this map—has anyone else stepped up with a higher bid?" the auctioneer asked with a warm smile. Yet no one answered, so he promptly raised the gavel. Sitting quietly in his chair, his gaze remained unshifting on Master Fan Ling's back, his silhouette in the black robe, the stern, growing smile on his face beneath the fabric. Fan Ling had assumed that a casual bid would secure him a truly valuable treasure map. Yet in the end, he did indeed obtain the map—but at the cost of also receiving a death warrant. As for the fragmented map, Xiao Yan was determined to secure it, and would go to any lengths to achieve it. No matter where Fan Ling eventually went, he would inevitably fall victim to a deadly attack hidden in the shadows.