As the auction continued, the tension barely had ti to settle before the next item was revealed.
The ninth treasure of the night.
A sealed silver box was brought forward, carried by two armored cultivators.
Even before it was opened—
The air itself seed to vibrate with an overwhelming pressure.
The sealed silver box was placed onto the pedestal with great care. A faint, golden aura leaked through the edges, shimring in a way that wasn't just light—it was divine energy.
When the auctioneer opened it, the hall was imdiately bathed in a radiant glow.
Inside, resting on a velvet cushion, was an ancient scroll made of celestial silk. Golden inscriptions flickered across its surface, shifting constantly as if alive. The energy it radiated was so intense that weaker cultivators had to avert their gazes.
Appraiser's Analysis:
Na: Celestial War Scripture
Type: Divine Martial Technique
Effects: A high-tier celestial technique once used by a forgotten war god. Grants mastery over divine combat arts, enhanced battle instincts, and direct refinent of celestial energy.
Defect: Requires a powerful soul to comprehend. A weak-willed user may suffer spiritual backlash or disintegration upon attempting to learn it.
A hushed awe filled the hall.
Divine techniques were exceedingly rare. Even the strongest sects only had fragnts of scriptures from ancient tis.
But this… this was a complete, unbroken scripture.
The auctioneer's voice was steady but laced with excitent.
"Starting bid: 100,000,000 High-Quality Astral Stones."
There was no hesitation.
The mont the number was announced, bids erupted like wildfire.
"110,000,000!" A sect elder from the Radiant Sun Temple imdiately raised his hand.
"120,000,000!" A young genius from the Divine Fla Clan followed without blinking.
"140,000,000!" The mysterious gold-and-black-robed man from before finally spoke again, his tone calm but sharp.
The entire hall trembled under the sheer weight of these numbers.
For most powerful sects and clans, sothing like this wasn't just a treasure—it was a legacy-defining artifact.
Valeris leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.
"Now, this is fun," Valeris mused, her eyes gleaming with interest.
As the bidding war raged on, many in the hall stole glances at Asher, waiting, anticipating. Would he make a move?
After all, he had already shocked the entire auction house with his bold bids earlier.
But this ti—
He remained silent.
He didn't raise his hand.
He didn't even look interested.
Many assud he was simply waiting for the price to rise further before striking.
But the truth was far simpler.
Asher had no need for cultivation techniques.
For others, a divine scripture like this could serve as a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity, allowing them to refine their energy and reach heights they never could have imagined.
But for Asher?
It was redundant.
His family's Assimilation Technique, after being perfected by his system, was superior to any technique in existence.
It didn't just enhance cultivation—it absorbed, refined, and perfected any technique he ca across.
With this ability, he could replicate, modify, and improve any technique to suit his own needs.
Even if he acquired the Celestial War Scripture, his system would instantly assimilate it, extract its essence, and integrate it into his already unmatched technique.
To put it simply—
Why buy sothing he could effortlessly surpass?
So, while others fought over the Celestial War Scripture like starving wolves, Asher rely watched.
It didn't take long for others to realize his lack of interest.
So were confused.
So were curious.
And so—like the gold-and-black-robed man—felt a deep sense of unease.
Because if a technique this powerful wasn't enough to move Asher—
The mont the Celestial War Scripture was sold, a quiet tension settled over the auction hall.
So cultivators exhaled in relief, their shoulders relaxing now that the monstrous bidder had shown no interest in the technique.
To them, it was a blessing in disguise—if Asher had entered the fray, no one would have stood a chance. His wealth was as unfathomable as his power. But now, with his silence, the scripture had fallen into another's hands.
And yet—
Not everyone shared in that relief.
Many others remained uneasy.
Their instincts scread that sothing was off.
It started with hushed murmurs, quiet at first but quickly spreading like wildfire.
"How could he ignore it?"
"Even the great sects would fight for a technique of that caliber."
"Did he not need it? Or… did he already have sothing better?"
Two dominant theories took shape among the more astute cultivators.
Cultivation techniques weren't universal. They required specific constitutions, affinities, or bloodline traits to fully unlock their potential.
If Asher had no connection to celestial energy, then the Celestial War Scripture would be useless to him.
That would explain why he remained utterly unmoved while others battled fiercely for it.
But the second theory—
That was the one that sent chills down the spines of those who considered it.
What if Asher possessed a technique so profound, so overwhelming, that even a divine scripture paled in comparison?
What if he had no reason to bid—because he had already surpassed what the Celestial War Scripture could offer?
This thought was far more terrifying than the first.
If true, then his origins, his cultivation, and his sheer potential were beyond anything they could comprehend.
And it was this small mont of hesitation—this lingering fear—that caused several high-ranking cultivators to abandon their plans of going after him altogether.
As the murmurs around Asher's silence slowly faded, the auctioneer clapped his hands, signaling the next item.
The stage lights dimd, and a pair of armored attendants carefully stepped forward, carrying a long obsidian case adorned with ancient runes.
A suffocating killing intent leaked from within, pressing against the souls of every cultivator in the room.
A few of the weaker attendees instinctively recoiled, their faces turning pale.
Even before it was revealed, they knew—this was no ordinary weapon.
The auctioneer smiled knowingly.
"Ladies and gentlen," he announced, his voice laced with excitent, "I present to you—the Abyssfang Reaper!"
With a flick of his fingers, the obsidian case snapped open, revealing the blade inside.
A long, curved scythe rested within—a weapon that seed almost alive.
The blade was forged from voidsteel, a legendary material said to absorb the life force of those it cuts. The entire weapon pulsed with a dark, eerie glow, and faint whispers echoed from within the tal itself, as if the souls of its past victims still lingered.
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