Azure Wind City, Zhao Family Courtyard.
The Zhao family, second only to the Chen family in Azure Wind City, lived in a residence that radiated power and authority. The estate was massive, filled with grand halls and fortified courtyards, its imposing scale befitting one of the city's most influential clans.
Outside the private courtyard of Zhao Lieyang, the head of the Zhao family, a black-clad guard hurried over with anxious steps.
Zhao Lieyang, though already over eighty years old, still stood tall and firm, his spirit unshaken. As a Xiantian Realm expert, his body retained vitality well beyond his years.
With his strength, he could expect to live at least one hundred and fifty years, while those in the Qi Sea Realm, who stood above Xiantian, could reach lifespans of two centuries or more.
His son Zhao Xiaotian, born when Zhao Lieyang was already sixty, was therefore both cherished and overprotected, a late-born child upon whom the patriarch placed great affection.
"Patriarch!" The guard bowed deeply outside the building.
"Where is Xiaotian?" Zhao Lieyang stepped out, his sharp eyes carrying both authority and paternal concern.
This particular guard was not ordinary, he was Zhao Lieyang's personal guard, already at the peak of the 7th level of the Body Tempering Realm. His main duty, however, was to follow Zhao Xiaotian, ensuring his safety at all times.
Earlier, it had been this man who reported the sudden appearance of excellent-grade Marrow Cleansing Potions at the Treasure Pavilion's small auction. At once, Zhao Lieyang had dispatched him with fifty thousand gold coins to aid Zhao Xiaotian in bidding.
"The young master is still on his way back," the guard reported respectfully. "He asked me to inform you, Patriarch, that he has successfully obtained one set of excellent-grade Marrow Cleansing Potions at the auction, a full five bottles."
"Good, good, good!" Zhao Lieyang's eyes lit up with rare joy. For the Zhao family, five bottles of such potions was no small matter. Their treasure vault contained only twenty to thirty bottles in total, so Zhao Xiaotian's purchase had expanded their resources significantly. Although he had won only one set, it was already an achievement to bring back such a prize.
Zhao Lieyang, of course, loved his son dearly, but he was well aware that Zhao Xiaotian's natural aptitude was not outstanding. Much of his son's current cultivation, which had barely reached the peak-stage Marrows Cleansing Realm, was owed to the vast resources Zhao Lieyang had funneled into him.
This fact was not lost on the elders, many of whom already grumbled about Zhao Xiaotian's poor reputation in the city. Yet today, Zhao Xiaotian had achieved something worthy, something that brought honor to the family name.
Zhao Lieyang's pride swelled, not just in the gain of potions, but in the chance to prove his son's worth to the skeptical elders.
"Go! Summon the Grand Elder, the Third Elder, and the Fourth Elder. And as soon as Xiaotian returns, bring him to me," Zhao Lieyang ordered.
The guard bowed but could not help a bitter expression. He knew what the patriarch intended: to parade Xiaotian's success in front of the elders.
But he also knew the truth, that Zhao Xiaotian had spent an outrageous seventy thousand gold coins for those five bottles. With a quiet sigh, he left to deliver the summons.
…
"Young Master, the Patriarch wants to see you as soon as you return," the guard told Zhao Xiaotian when he met him outside the family gates.
"How is my father's mood?" Zhao Xiaotian asked nervously, his neck shrinking.
"The Patriarch is in very high spirits," the guard replied honestly. And it was true, for now. But once Zhao Lieyang learned what price had been paid, who could say how long his joy would last? Zhao Xiaotian, reassured for the moment, pressed forward, heading toward his father's courtyard.
"By the way, Young Master," the guard added hesitantly, "the Grand Elder, Third Elder, and Fourth Elder are already waiting in the Patriarch's courtyard."
"What?" Zhao Xiaotian froze mid-step, his expression twisting. He loathed dealing with the elders, knowing their disapproval of him. If they were present, his report would surely bring more trouble than praise. If he had paid a normal price, he might have wanted the whole clan to know, but at seventy thousand? This was a disaster.
"I'll go after they leave," he muttered.
"I'm afraid that won't do, Young Master," the guard said quickly. "The Patriarch specifically ordered you to see him immediately, and he was the one who invited the elders."
"Damn it!" Zhao Xiaotian cursed under his breath. He wanted to flee, but he knew avoiding it would only worsen matters. Gritting his teeth, he continued forward.
…
Inside the courtyard, Zhao Lieyang welcomed the elders with a proud smile. "Elders, I've gathered you for good news. Today's auction at the Treasure Pavilion, have you heard of it?"
"Yes, we know of it," one elder said.
"Though the Pavilion's small auctions usually deal with items for those below Xiantian, so I paid it little mind," the Grand Elder admitted.
"Well, this time was different. Excellent-grade Marrow Cleansing Potions appeared there," Zhao Lieyang declared, his eyes gleaming.
The elders immediately leaned forward, their interest piqued. "Such treasures are rare indeed! Patriarch, surely you made arrangements to secure them?"
"Haha, naturally! My son Xiaotian has already won a set. Five bottles," Zhao Lieyang said, beaming.
The elders glanced at each other, their expressions mixed with doubt. Just then, the guard's voice announced Zhao Xiaotian's arrival. Soon, he entered, bowed deeply, and greeted them.
"Xiaotian, come, sit by me," Zhao Lieyang said warmly, not noticing his son's unease.
"Yes, Father," Zhao Xiaotian obeyed.
"Tell me, did you truly win a set of potions at the auction?"
"Yes," Zhao Xiaotian admitted. "Of the four sets offered, two went to Chen Xiao, one to Han Yun, the city lord's nephew, and the last to me."
"Excellent!" Zhao Lieyang praised. "Bring them out."
Obediently, Zhao Xiaotian placed the five porcelain bottles on the table. Zhao Lieyang invited the Grand Elder to inspect them, though he knew Treasure Pavilion's reputation left no room for counterfeits. The elder confirmed their authenticity with a stiff nod.
But then Zhao Lieyang's gaze fell on the Dark Light Sword strapped to his son's side. "That sword… Xiaotian, did you also purchase this today?"
"Yes, Father," Zhao Xiaotian replied. "It is a high-grade mortal rank weapon called the Dark Light Sword."
Though he tried to sound proud, the memory of spending twenty-six thousand gold coins on it stung. The elders exchanged dark looks. A weapon like that was valuable, but the money spent was outrageous, and it was clear the funds had come from family resources.
Zhao Lieyang, trying to maintain his son's dignity, said gently, "Since you've obtained it, use it well." But the elders' eyes said what their mouths did not.
Then came the dreaded question. "How much did you pay for it?" the First Elder asked.
Zhao Xiaotian froze, his face burning. He could not lie, not with so many witnesses. "Twenty-six thousand," he muttered at last.
The elders' faces hardened, and Zhao Lieyang himself blinked in shock. "What? Twenty-six thousand for a mere mortal rank sword?" he thundered.
Before Zhao Xiaotian could recover, the First Elder pressed again. "And the potions? How much did those cost?"
The color drained from Zhao Xiaotian's face. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
"Speak!" Zhao Lieyang demanded, his voice like a whip.
"Seventy thousand… gold coins," Zhao Xiaotian whispered, trembling.
The silence that followed was crushing. Even Zhao Lieyang, who doted on his son, could only stare at him in disbelief. Seventy thousand gold coins for five bottles of potion, and twenty-six thousand more for a sword. No matter how wealthy the Zhao family was, this was reckless beyond reason. Even their great fortune could not withstand such waste for long.
The air in the private courtyard turned deathly silent the instant Zhao Xiaotian uttered the words seventy thousand gold coins. For a moment, no one breathed.
Then, like thunder exploding in the middle of the night, Zhao Lieyang slammed his palm against the armrest of his chair, his aged face trembling with rage.
"Seventy thousand?!" His voice boomed through the courtyard like a roar, veins bulging on his forehead, his chest rising and falling as if he might explode at any second.