When Riven stepped inside the building, a wave of warm, herbal fragrance greeted him. The grand hall was both luxurious and minimalist—wide marble floors polished to a mirror sheen, high ceilings supported by carved wooden pillars etched with faintly glowing runes. Dozens of shelves lined the walls, all neatly stocked with bottled elixirs and bundles of dried herbs, their labels inscribed with delicate spiritual script.
Protective formations shimmered faintly on the shelves—likely low-tier warding runes to preserve the herbs' potency.
Several long tables held raw medicinal plants, freshly delivered and arranged with care. Sales clerks in uniform moved swiftly, answering customers' inquiries and handling transactions with trained precision.
"Can you lower the price of this Fire Mist Plant? It normally costs 2 Ember Stones, but you're saying it's 4 now?"
The speaker was a tall, thin man draped in elegant robes embroidered with gold thread. He exuded the entitled air of someone from an upper noble family—sharp-nosed, impatient, and used to getting his way.
The clerk, a young woman with a professional smile and calm demeanor, replied smoothly,
"Sir, you're misunderstanding. This Fire Mist Plant is a decade old—far more potent than common ones. The price reflects its quality."
The man frowned, clearly displeased. But after a moment's hesitation, he muttered under his breath and handed over the money. Once the herb was packed in a silk pouch, he turned on his heel and walked toward the staircase.
A nearby guard dressed in Red Lotus uniform bowed respectfully and led him upstairs to the second floor, which was reserved for premium clients.
Riven observed the scene from a distance, slightly amused.
"Typical Nobles… always bickering over stones. Nothing's changed." He dismissed the matter and approached the main reception counter.
The receptionist, a young woman counting spirit stones behind the desk, glanced up. Her gaze lingered on Riven for a second longer than necessary.
"Odd. He looks familiar, but…"* she thought. His pale skin, thin frame, and simple clothes gave the impression of someone recovering from illness, not royalty.
Still, she smiled politely. "Welcome to Red Lotus Herb Hall. How may I help you?"
Riven didn't waste time.
"I'm looking for something that can repair or restore a damaged Veinroot," he said calmly, but his eyes were sharp—piercing.
The receptionist blinked, startled. "Sir, I'm afraid we don't carry anything capable of healing damaged Veinroots…"
Her voice trailed off as something came to mind. Her expression brightened slightly.
"However, tonight our Red Lotus Hall is hosting a private auction. Rare herbs, elixirs, and even spiritual artifacts will be showcased. If you're interested, you may attend. The entry fee is 10 Ember Stones."
Riven tilted his head.
"An auction?" he echoed with mild curiosity. "Will there be anything related to Veinroots—or at least rare herbs that might help?"
He didn't expect a direct solution. But deep in the vault of his memories—memories from a former life, he recalled an ancient technique, buried within a forgotten ruin.
"If I remember correctly… it's possible to reconstruct a Veinroot, but it requires materials infused with both fire and ice elements. The herbs must be at least a thousand years old and some other things. A heavenly flame is also crucial…"
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as a flicker of fire brushed the edge of his soul. "Although… a heavenly flame is considered crucial, I have something far beyond that."
His gaze turned faintly amused. "The Voidless Flame is ancient, sentient, and far more powerful than any mere heavenly fire. Maybe… just maybe, it can work."
"Even if I can't get everything now, a lower-tier substitute could still help me experiment."
Riven offered a subtle, practiced smile. "Do you have any pure fire or ice-aligned herbs? A hundred years old at minimum."
The receptionist's expression faltered.
"H-He wants what..?" she thought, blinking rapidly. Her professional mask cracked for just a second.
She leaned in slightly and whispered, "You're asking for hundred-year-old elemental herbs? Sir… such rare stock isn't available here on display. But… you might have better luck at the auction. Occasionally, unique herbs show up."
Riven gave a faint nod. "Then I'll attend."
Without further hesitation, he slid ten Ember Stones across the counter. The receptionist quickly took them, her fingers brushing the stones with a bit more care now. Her tone shifted ever so slightly, more respectful than before.
Ember Stones—crimson-hued spiritual crystals native to the Skyren Realm, served as both currency and cultivation resources. Infused with pure spiritual energy, they were prized not just for trade, but for aiding breakthroughs, nurturing spirit herbs, and fueling formations.
"Here is your invitation, sir." She handed him a sealed card, its surface engraved with the Red Lotus sigil—a blooming flower surrounded by swirling spirit patterns.
Riven took it and slipped it into his robe.
"When does the auction begin?" he asked, his tone smooth and controlled—yet there was a burning resolve hidden beneath his calm expression.
"Tonight. At 8 p.m, in our private auction hall. Don't be late," she added with a small smile, though her eyes lingered on his face.
"There's something about him…" she mused silently. "He seems so familiar. That voice, those eyes…"
But she shook her head and returned to counting stones.
Riven gave a curt nod and turned away, stepping out of the herb hall. The moment the sunlight hit his face, he sighed softly and muttered, "I'll need more funds. That auction might just hold the first step to reclaiming my path."
He tightened the folds of his robe and began the long walk back to the royal manor—his steps steady, his purpose firm.
After returning to the royal manor, Riven made a simple request to his father for funds.
King Alaric didn't question it. Within the hour, Riven received a pouch of 500 Ember Stones from the palace's finance department, discreetly delivered without ceremony.
It was only noon. With time to spare before the auction, Riven wandered toward the royal library, a towering hall lined with ancient scrolls, dust-laced tomes, and glowing spiritual manuscripts. He spent the hours reading in silence—absorbing knowledge about this world's sects, spiritual systems, and elemental classifications.
"The Skyren Realm… much of it is different from what I knew from the memory. But some things… some truths remain."
Before he realized it, evening had arrived. The sun had vanished beyond the horizon, and a silver moon now bathed the manor grounds in a tranquil glow. The air was crisp, the sky clear.
Riven left the library and took a quick bath to freshen up. He chose a new set of clothes—simple, yet refined. A deep gray robe with silver trim, paired with black boots. No jewelry. No royal crest.
"Low profile. That's the goal," he thought.
After informing Garron—who looked surprised but said nothing—Riven stepped out of the manor alone.
No carriage and no guards. Just his quiet steps beneath the moonlight.
"I hope this auction has something worthwhile,"* he murmured under his breath.
As he walked, he briefly glanced inward—into the spiritual sea of his consciousness.
There, the Voidless Flame still floated, curled into a peaceful ball of golden light. Silently sleeping peacefully.
"Still asleep… that's rare. She must've drained herself after arguing."
A faint smile touched his lips, but it quickly vanished.
—
After nearly an hour of walking through the lantern-lit streets of the capital, Riven arrived once more at the Red Lotus Herb Hall.
The building now glowed with warm amber light, its walls buzzing with faint spiritual energy. Two guards flanked the grand double doors.
Riven stepped forward, presenting his invitation card.
One of the guards inspected it and gave a polite nod. "You've been assigned to the second floor, sir. Please follow me."
Riven was quietly led up a wide staircase. Before entering the hall, the guard handed him something—a sleek black mask, smooth and lightweight.
"Please wear this. All participants must remain anonymous during the auction. It's our policy."
Riven nodded silently and slipped on the mask without complaint.
"That works in my favor. I don't need anyone recognizing me anyway."
The moment he stepped onto the second floor, the atmosphere shifted.
The lighting was dim—soft golden lanterns illuminated the circular auction hall. Rows of velvet-padded seats were arranged in a gentle arc facing a grand stage draped in crimson silk.
Every single person was already seated.
Every one of them wore the same featureless black mask. And not a soul was speaking.
"How eerie," Riven thought as his eyes scanned the silent crowd. "No names. No status. Just bidders with deep pockets."
A guard led him to his designated seat—middle row, center seat providing the perfect view of the stage.
Riven sat down wordlessly, folding his hands in his lap."Let's see if this night changes anything… or nothing at all."
He exhaled slowly, calm and composed as the quiet tension in the room thickened.
After several minutes of silence, a middle-aged man walked onto the stage, wearing a high-class robe embroidered with spiritual patterns. His every step carried quiet authority, and the pressure in the air shifted slightly—a clear sign of his cultivation.
With a courteous smile, he raised his hand in greeting. "Welcome, honored guests. I am Kenny Sebastian, manager of Red Lotus Hall. Thank you for attending tonight's auction."
His voice was calm but carried effortlessly across the entire chamber.
No one clapped. No one spoke.
Everyone remained silent behind their black masks, their attention fully locked on the man as he continued.
"Without wasting time, let's begin the auction."
With a gesture, a young woman dressed in a sleek white uniform, walked onto the stage, carrying a silver tray. On it lay a leaf—delicate, golden-hued, and veined with faint traces of scarlet.
"Our first item," Kenny announced, "is the Sun Lotus Leaf."
He allowed the words to settle before continuing.
"This is a Low-Tier Mortal-grade herb, aligned with light element. Its properties are primarily healing-based, suitable for creating high-grade medicinal pills or enhancing recovery elixirs. Especially effective for battlefield injuries or internal wounds."
He paused. "Starting bid: 3 Ember Stones."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"A healing leaf? That'd be a life-saver in battle."
"Yeah. Even if it's low-tier, herbs like that are hard to come by…"
"Three Ember Stones," a masked bidder called out confidently, his voice steady and clear.
"Four!" another one added quickly.
"Seven Ember Stones!" someone raised the stakes.
Kenny nodded, tracking the bids with a calm smile. "Seven... going once, going twice—"
"Ten Ember Stones."
The voice cut through the air, deep and commanding.
All eyes turned toward the bidder. A **tall, muscular man** in a sleeveless cloak sat calmly in the back row. His arms were crossed, and his face hidden beneath the mask, but his aura left little doubt—this man was strong.
No one else dared to challenge the bid.
"That's no casual cultivator…" Riven noted silently, watching the man from the corner of his eye.
Kenny raised his wooden gavel.
"Ten Ember Stones. Going once… going twice… Sold!"
The Sun Lotus Leaf was handed off to the muscular bidder by an assistant, who also collected the payment.
Riven remained still in his seat, unmoved. He hadn't raised a single bid.
"Healing herbs don't interest me. Not unless they're ancient or dual-elemental."
Kenny's voice rang out again, bright with energy. "Now then, our second item!"
The assistant returned, this time carrying a long wooden box with polished carvings. She opened it carefully, revealing a dark crimson blade with black veins running across the surface—like coiled roots.
"The Blood Vine Saber," Kenny announced. "Low-tier Mortal grade—but its sharpness rivals some mid-tier weapons. Forged with blood-iron and spiritual wood from the Bloodvine Tree. A powerful weapon for those who favor sabers."
"Starting bid: 8 Ember Stones."
"Ten!" a bidder shouted immediately.
"Thirteen!"
"Fourteen!"
"Sixteen!"
The crowd grew louder as tension rose. Many were visibly drawn to the blade's ominous beauty.
Then—"Thirty Ember Stones."
The deep voice rang out again. The muscular man.
Silence fell like a blade. For a few seconds, no one responded.
Then a clear, feminine voice echoed across the hall. "Thirty-four."
All eyes turned. It was a tall woman in an elegant navy robe seated on the far left. Her mask concealed her face, but the sharpness in her tone made it clear—she wasn't backing down.
The muscular man tilted his head slightly and calmly replied, "Forty-five Ember Stones!"
A low gasp escaped from somewhere in the room.
Kenny grinned. "Forty-five! Going once… going twice… Sold!"
He struck the gavel against the wooden block with a loud thunk.
The woman stared at the man, clearly displeased. Her hands clenched slightly over her robe sleeves.
"You…!" she hissed.
But the man didn't even turn to look at her. He accepted the saber from the assistant, handed over the stones, and leaned back in his chair—completely unfazed.
Riven observed the exchange with faint amusement. "Seems like there's some history there… More importantly, he's not just rich—he's dangerous."
Riven's eyes narrowed behind the mask. "I'll have to keep an eye on him."