An old man in green with a walking stick came inside, followed by an old lady and a young man in purple.

Eyes half-closed, Ye Chen found cold light glinting in the young man's eyes. He was the one that ruined Ye Chen's elixir field.

"I'll revenge on him." His fists clenched firmly.

When the delegates from the three sects reached the second floor, a grey-haired elder, a middle-aged man in purple robe and a young man in white robe paced into the pavilion from the door,

Seeing them, Ye Chen scrunched up his eyes. They were the people hunting down Chu Ling in the demonic forest that day. He never expected to meet them here.

"They from the Blood-thirst Palace." Astonishments rose.

The Great Chu Empire was the home to one palace and three sects. The Blood-thirst Palace, the real big potato, ruled the north alone. Any sect did not dare to rile it up.

"It'll be exciting this time."

"It's not easy to get the treasure we yearn for."

An old man called sect elder Yang walked to a high podium blow.

"The rules are acknowledged. I won't explain anymore."He said briskly, "The auction begins now."

Immediately, a man holding a spirit sword stepped to the podium.

Purple light lingering around, the terrible sword buzzed sometimes, with its body and sharp blade scaring people.

"Purple Yang Sword. The base price is fifty thousand spirit stones. The highest bidder will get it." Sect elder Yang said plainly.

"I bid fifty-one thousand." Someone below lifted a sign high.

"Fifty-three thousand."

"Sixty thousand."

In a dozens of breaths, the price of the spirit sword rose. As it kept increasing, the auction seethed.

"So expensive." Ye Chen flicked his tongue in a corner. The first item was so pricey, how could he afford others.

"Have you ever heard of warming-up? The first auction item is used to enliven the atmosphere. Cheaper ones will be sold later."

"Eighty thousand spirit stones."

"Eighty-five thousand."

"Ninety thousand."

The competition was fierce. The bidders raced to raise the price for the sword and shouted.

"A hundred thousand." Right now, a voice came from the second floor. The bidder was Wu Changqing.

Other bidders below the podium stopped screaming.

"If no bidder boosts the price. The sword will belong to the Zhengyang Sect." On the high podium, sect elder Yang glimpsed at the people under it, found no one bid for the sword and placed the sword into his sleeve.

Someone walked to the podium with a small glistening brazen censer carved with patterns in hand. Albeit palm-sized, it encompassed torrential energy.

"Zhiyang braze censer. Its bottom price is thirty thousand. Please bid now."

Someone bid within seconds and added ten thousand spirit stones without hesitation.

"Fifty thousand."

"Seventy thousand."

"I bid ninety thousand."

The yell of the bidders rose and fell. They competed to own the censer.

"It's good." Ye Chen stroked his chin.

"Add more spirit stones if you want it." Xiong'er answered.

"I don't have enough money."

" Forget my words."

The brazen censer was bid at a hundred and fifty thousand spirit stones. But the price was about to increase.

"A hundred and sixty thousand. The Qingyun Sect will take it." The sect elder from the Qingyun Sect shouted.

All of a sudden, other bidders shut up because of not only the high price but also the strong sect nobody daring to find trouble with.

"No one bids. The censer belongs to the Qingyun Sect." Sect elder Yang collected the censer.

What he took out was still a spirit tool, an eight-diagram mirror. It emitted scorching spirit light, horrible energy vibrating.

"The bottom price is a hundred thousand. Bid starts now."

"A hundred and ten thousand." A man in purple bid first.

"Zhou Cang, you're so mean. You can't take the mirror away." An grey-haired elder sneered with a sullen face.

"I bid a hundred and twenty." The elder smiled hideously.

Zhou Cang snorted with a darkening look, "I add ten thousand more. A hundred and thirty thousand."

"A hundred and fifty thousand."

"A hundred and seventy thousand."

Their voices filled the entire pavilion. They were enemies and their words dripped coldness and hostility. The two contended for the mirror whatever the cost was.

Indeed, the auction in the Ghost Black Market was not so calm as it seemed to be, some bidders fighting secretively.

"Two hundred thousand."

"Ten thousand more, two hundred and ten thousand."

The competition for the mirror was increasingly fierce and the participation of the third bidder broke the balance. Afterwards, the fourth and fifth also joined.

As more people bid, the price elevated to over three hundred thousand.

"Shit. I intended to join them just now." Xiong'er said angrily, "The beasts raise the price so high."

"We two have nothing to do with the auction."

"Poor! Grievance."

The auction of the mirror ended and its winner was a slim old man.

Hum.

Hum.

The cultivators starting their feud because of the eight-diagram mirror snorted, cold flashes glimmering in their eyes.