The golden light of the Halo Premise had only just faded, and the vast Grand Auction Hall seed to exhale. Curtains shimred, the chandeliers dimd to a regal glow, and silence gave way to murmurs of wealth and curiosity. The Auction Master stood proudly beneath the vine lantern, his silver beard glinting under the gentle luminescence.
"Now then," his deep voice carried across the chamber, "it’s ti to begin the Grand Auction of the Four Kingdoms."
A pause–asured, deliberate.
"As our honored guest, the Blessed Child of the Empire, Young Master Kiaria, joins us for the first ti," the Auction Master announced, "it is our tradition to present one choice item as a welcoming gift. A single treasure, freely chosen, without bidding or price."
The Princess smiled teasingly. "Little brother, this is your golden chance," she said, her tone light but eyes sharp. "You better choose wisely. Everyone here is watching."
Kiaria’s lips curved faintly. "Then," he said simply, "I’ll take a cauldron."
The hall exploded with noise.
"What?!""A cauldron?!""Is he serious?"
Laughter rippled through balconies and chambers alike. Even seasoned nobles raised brows. The Princess blinked twice in disbelief. "A cauldron? You’re surrounded by divine artifacts, swords forged in celestial fla, and elixirs that could reshape your cultivation! Why waste your chance on... that?"
Kiaria t her gaze calmly. "Senior Sister," he said softly, "I have my reasons. My path needs a cauldron first."
The Auction Master frowned slightly. "Young Master Kiaria," he began carefully, "these aren’t re kitchen relics. If you insist–fine–but be sure you won’t regret this decision."
"I won’t," Kiaria replied, voice unwavering.
The Auction Master sighed and clapped his hands twice. Two veiled attendants appeared at once, bowing gracefully. "Bring forth the ancient cauldrons," he commanded.
The entire hall watched in anticipation. With a faint rumble, the central pedestal opened, and five cauldrons erged one by one, suspended in a soft blue glow.
Each was magnificent–polished bronze gleaming with runes, gold inlaid with phoenix feathers, a jade one pulsing faint spiritual heat, another carved with beast markings that rippled faintly like living scales.
But the fifth cauldron... was nothing like the others.
It was small. Bent. Rust clung to its edges like rot. Its surface was dull gray, chipped in places, marred with scars of age. It didn’t even hum with energy; it looked dead.
"Little brother," the Princess whispered, tilting her head. "You can’t be serious."
Kiaria studied all five quietly. The audience leaned forward, expecting him to reach for sothing radiant. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on the broken relic.
"That one," he said, pointing to the rusted cauldron.
The hall froze. Then erupted.
"Is he insane?!""Even fools wouldn’t pick that!""Does he think rust makes it ancient?"
Chief Staley’s face twitched. "Young Master, forgive ," he said in a low voice, "but even I can see that thing’s barely holding itself together. At least choose one that doesn’t sll like decay."
"I’m not mistaken," Kiaria said. "That cauldron."
The Auction Master rubbed his temple. "Very well," he muttered, motioning to an attendant. The rusted cauldron shimred once and disappeared into a spatial ring, which he then offered to Kiaria with an almost pitying sigh.
"I hope your decision was wise," he said.
Silence followed.
Then whispers spread again–sharper, crueler.
"He’s lost his mind.""They call him blessed? I call him blind.""Even the rust feels ashad of him."
Not one person dared laugh aloud–yet the air itself trembled with restrained mockery.
The Auction Master coughed to break the growing tension. "Ahem. Let’s... lighten the mood, shall we?"
He clapped twice.
The heavy curtains lifted. A faint fragrance filled the hall as a procession of veiled maidens entered, instrunts in hand. Their robes shimred like moonlight, and their presence alone seed to dissolve the unrest.
"Ladies and gentlen," the Auction Master announced smoothly, "to open the Grand Auction of the Four Kingdoms–please enjoy a performance from the Yuling Musical Departnt, performing the Harmony of Life."
At once, soft notes rippled through the hall.
Harp strings plucked like dewdrops.Flutes whispered like dawn winds.Drums murmured like distant thunderclouds.
The rhythm ford slowly, building layer upon layer until it painted sound itself–rolling, weaving, alive.
The dancers moved in perfect synchronization, stepping into the Four Ancient Beast Formation. Their soul projections shimred into existence–phantom doubles that twirled beside them, trails of silver light cascading like falling petals.
Each movent was a brushstroke of serenity.
Petals drifted from unseen currents, glowing faintly as they floated into guest chambers, dissolving into faint warmth against the chest of every spectator. For a mont, even the cynics fell quiet. Their laughter forgotten.
The music ended softly–like mist dissolving under sunlight.
Applause rose.
Kiaria leaned slightly toward the Princess, expression thoughtful. "Senior Sister," he said quietly, "this music is beautiful–but sothing feels missing."
The Princess looked at him curiously. "You noticed?" She smiled faintly. "You’re right. These notes are flawless, but they lack soul. There are no words–no voice–to complete it."
"Why not add words then?" Kiaria asked.
"Many have tried," she replied. "None have succeeded. The piece has no true aning we can grasp, only beauty we can feel."
Kiaria’s eyes softened. "Then perhaps the aning isn’t lost," he said. "It’s simply forgotten."
He stood. The hall turned. The Princess watched, curious.
Kiaria lifted a hand gently, signaling the musicians to begin again. The dancers froze in confusion, but at the Auction Master’s nod, they obeyed. The lody rose once more–gentle, uncertain.
Kiaria closed his eyes. His lips parted.
His voice–calm, low, almost whispering–carried through the hall like wind stirring reeds.
"Rivers hum beneath the sky,
Awaken hearts, symphony of life;
Every leaf sways, a note so mild–
Lullaby of smile for every child,
And life sings on, serene and wild.
Woven threads, ant for birds,
Woven silks, ho for spiders;
Where sunlight drips, laughter lies–
Weaving hands, water the sky,
And rhythm flows, beyond the ti.
Rustling grass and rippling streams,
Echoes bloom from fleeting dreams;
Carefree lives in morning dew–
Rise and fade, yet draw the light,
And all beings know, harmony of truth."
The words entwined with the instrunts as if they had waited centuries for this voice. The hall dimd. The vine lantern above flared faintly, casting gold across every face.
The song did not rely sound–it moved.Old n wept quietly.Nobles forgot to breathe.Even the Auction Master lowered his gaze, his heart trembling.
And when the last note faded, silence fell again–this ti reverent, not mocking.
A noble whispered shakily, "If that is a fool... what does that make us?"
No one answered.
The Princess wiped a tear discreetly and smiled at him. "You’ve stolen their tongues, little brother," she murmured.
Kiaria smiled faintly. "Words were unnecessary, Senior Sister. I just let them listen to what they’d forgotten."
The Auction Master bowed slightly, his eyes shimring. "I take back my doubts," he said softly. "You have turned ridicule into reverence."
Kiaria looked down at the rusted cauldron’s ring in his hand. Beneath its dull shell, he could feel faint life stirring–old, deep, patient.
"Even rust," he said quietly, "rembers the fire that forged it."
And so, amid the flickering gold of the vine lantern, the Grand Auction fell silent once more–not in laughter, not in noise, but in awe of the boy who changed scorn into grace with nothing but a song.
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