Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Auction

Third Mountain.

Beside the waterfall—a place seldom frequented by others, undisturbed and rare as a site for cultivation. At this moment, a man and a woman stood facing each other.

Wang Ran blinked as he looked at Yao Jianjia, who held a red cord in one hand and a candle in the other. Unable to help himself, he coughed lightly and said shyly, “Senior Sister, you’re going a bit fast for me... I can hardly keep up.”

“Still talking nonsense,” Yao Jianjia replied coolly, her face calm. “Are you ready?”

Wang Ran bowed his head slightly, a little embarrassed. “R-ready. This is my first time, Senior Sister, please be gentle.”

Seeing this, Yao Jianjia said no more. She tossed the red cord skyward, and at once spiritual energy surged; the cord writhed like a spirit snake, twining tightly around Wang Ran and binding him hand and foot.

Wang Ran looked down at himself and clicked his tongue. “Senior Sister, your tying technique isn’t very professional. Why don’t we try again? I can show you my Ten Styles of the Red Cord—it's a secret art from my homeland, not taught to outsiders.”

Yao Jianjia stepped forward, placing the candle into his hand. Wang Ran continued to chatter by her ear.

“Let me tell you, my Ten Styles of the Red Cord are amazing. For example, the first style, ‘Inverted Golden Hook,’ is quite extraordinary. Then there’s the ‘Wind-Fire Wheel,’ ‘Swinging on a Thousand Autumns,’ ‘Golden Rooster Standing on One Leg,’ ‘Smooth Plains,’ ‘Four Seasons of Prosperity,’ ‘Flowers in Full Bloom,’ ‘Waves Crashing Against Mountains,’ ‘Heavenly Maiden Scattering Flowers,’ and ‘Scooping the Moon from the Sea’... Each one is unforgettable! It’s a peerless art from Dongguan, my hometown, but sadly, it’s all but vanished in recent years.”

Wang Ran spoke animatedly, with relish, caring little whether Yao Jianjia understood. At the end, he sighed with genuine regret.

A hint of helplessness flashed in Yao Jianjia’s eyes. “Enough with your rambling... Listen well. Beneath this waterfall lies a spiritual spring. Though not large, it is the source of Third Mountain’s vitality.”

“In the past month, your cultivation has progressed rapidly—you’ve reached the bottleneck of the first stage of Foundation Building. You must have sensed it; this spiritual spring can help you break through in one stroke.”

“The current around the spring is fierce and hard to approach. The cord binding you is a magical artifact. Once infused with spiritual energy, it becomes heavy as ten thousand pounds, pulling you into the spring. Once bound, you cannot free yourself except by burning the cord with this candle’s special flame.”

“I’ve protected this candle with a water-repelling spell, so it can burn even underwater. Enter the water to cultivate—once you’ve broken through, light the candle to escape your bonds.”

“It’s getting late. I’ll stand guard for you here.”

Yao Jianjia rarely spoke so much—perhaps in ten days she would not utter as many words as she had now. Wang Ran was momentarily stunned.

He felt a surge of emotion; so the red cord and dripping wax were actually to help him break through his cultivation bottleneck.

He was gifted, his progress swift, and under Yao Jianjia’s unique tutelage, it was as though he were blessed by the gods. In just a month, he had reached the threshold of the second stage.

He had been pondering how to break through these past two days, never imagining that Yao Jianjia had been thinking of it too.

This senior sister, icy and reserved as she seemed, was actually quite kind at heart.

Warmed by this realization, Wang Ran said no more, turned, and leaped beneath the waterfall.

With a splash, the chill of the river enveloped him. Wang Ran stilled his heart and circulated his spiritual power. Instantly, the red cord glowed with golden light and grew unimaginably heavy, dragging him swiftly downward.

Holding his breath and gathering true energy in his core, Wang Ran could survive underwater for about two hours without breathing. He glanced around and saw the river beneath the waterfall was deep, its bottom out of sight. Only after the time it took for two sticks of incense to burn did he near the riverbed.

There, among the thick clusters of water plants, he saw a place where spiritual energy surged outward, sending ripples streaming up—the location of the spiritual spring.

Controlling his descent, Wang Ran settled above the spring and quickly sat cross-legged to cultivate.

With the Immortal Dao Divine Art in motion, the surrounding spiritual energy rushed to enter his body, forming a small whirlpool centered on Wang Ran deep beneath the water.

Within him, the spiritual energy surged wildly, then was refined bit by bit, becoming his own cultivation.

Eyes shut tight, Wang Ran used wave after wave of the spring’s energy to assault the second layer of Foundation Building.

A month of strenuous cultivation under the pressure of the Binding Spirit Meteor, and aided by spiritual fruits, now bore fruit. His accumulated strength burst forth—spiritual energy surged from him, and the water roiled with waves.

Time passed, though Wang Ran knew not how long.

On the shore above, Yao Jianjia, dressed in white as pure as snow, sat cross-legged in meditation. After a while, sensing something, she opened her eyes.

She saw the once-calm water suddenly ripple, the waves growing larger until a whirlpool formed.

Then, with a thunderous splash, water soared into the air and rained down. With a flick of her sleeve, Yao Jianjia swept the droplets away with spiritual energy—her robes remained untouched.

Looking up, she saw a figure leap from the lake, skimming across the water: Wang Ran.

As the water fell and spiritual energy radiated from him, he had already reached the second stage of Foundation Building.

Yao Jianjia nodded and rose. “Continue cultivating like this. I will be entering closed-door cultivation for some time. Work hard—do not let Master down.”

Watching her depart, Wang Ran bowed in gratitude to his senior sister. If not for her help, his cultivation would not have gone so smoothly. That spiritual spring, the lifeblood of the Third Mountain, was undoubtedly precious. Without having entered Feng Yazhi’s tutelage, Wang Ran would never have had access to it.

Yao Jianjia’s figure rose into the air, ethereal as mist, vanishing from sight.

In the days that followed, Wang Ran continued his daily cultivation. In addition to the Immortal Dao Divine Art, he also resumed practicing the Vajra Glass Body.

This Daoist art was terrifying in its demands—painful and torturous to the flesh, as though enduring a fierce battle each time he trained.

But to gain greater power, there was no other way but to grit his teeth and persist.

Time drifted by in this tranquil manner. In the blink of an eye, another seven days had passed.

One day, as Wang Ran was sipping tea in his courtyard, a young gentleman in white appeared at the gate.

“Brother Wang, long time no see—your cultivation has clearly improved.” The voice reached him before the man did.

Wang Ran glanced up, “Your murderous aura is even stronger. Looks like you’ve been busy with missions.”

Zhao Xiaobai laughed, “Not bad—I wiped out a whole clan.”

“Truly a killing star reborn,” Wang Ran tutted.

Zhao Xiaobai smiled ruefully, “My path is that of the God of Slaughter—destined for storms of blood and rain. Only through killing can I advance; without it, my cultivation stagnates.”

As he spoke, a slight leak of spiritual energy revealed he too had reached the second stage of Foundation Building.

Wang Ran shook his head. Zhao Xiaobai brewed himself a cup of tea and lightly fanned his folded fan. “Brother Wang, I picked up an interesting bit of news while I was out on assignment.”

“Oh?” Wang Ran looked up.

Swirling the teacup, Zhao Xiaobai said, “A few days ago, the Lord of Yunluo City seized a trove of treasures from mountain bandits. In three days’ time, he’s hosting an auction, inviting all the heroes of Yunzhou. I hear Ye Cang will be attending.”

Wang Ran’s eyes narrowed. “An auction? That’s intriguing.”

This was the first auction he’d heard of since arriving in this world. As the saying goes, leveling up, fighting monsters, finding treasures—dungeons, academies, and auctions, all part of the classic routine.

Usually, the headline item at such an auction is a peerless treasure, overlooked by others but recognized only by the protagonist, who then claims it.

So, Wang Ran was interested—perhaps there was something to gain. Especially upon hearing that Ye Cang would be there, his eyes shone even brighter.

If Ye Cang was going, there was no way he could miss it.

After bidding farewell to Zhao Xiaobai, Wang Ran began preparing for the auction. Attending such a grand event would be impossible without spirit jades.

But this posed no difficulty for Wang Ran. Beyond the spirit jades he’d acquired from the underground ruins, he also possessed a trove of cultivation arts, all of which could be put up for auction.

Though most were only three- or four-star level, to ordinary cultivators they were still rare and valuable techniques, sure to fetch a good price.

He opened his system interface and selected his personal inventory. The items inside were neatly arranged; apart from the many Daoist arts, a few things stood out most.

A mysterious black cloak, a pair of flaming shoulder guards, and two giant swords—one gleaming with golden light, the other exuding a bloodthirsty aura.