After entering the auction house, Oscar went straight to the Yellow VIP Section, casually choosing a seat before sitting down.
He hadn't come here with the intention of selling his sausages this time—that was something he always left for Flender to handle. His goal today was simple: to see if he could get lucky and find something valuable.
The auction had already begun, and Oscar sat there calmly, watching the auctioneer present one item after another.
Weapons, soul tools, medicinal herbs, pills… but none of them were what Oscar wanted.
So he sat idly for over an hour, watching bidders fight fiercely over items, and couldn't help but think of how his sausages once soared in price at auction. Perhaps they really had been "hyped up" the same way.
Finally, the next lot came up. Oscar's attention had been drifting, but when he heard the auctioneer's announcement, his heart skipped a beat. At first, he thought he'd misheard. But then a rush of excitement surged through him.
He had to win this item.
"Honored guests, this sixteenth lot took our auction house a great deal of effort to acquire. It may not be of much use to women, but as a fellow man, I assure you, owning this will make an eighty-year-old elder regain the vigor of youth. Three seconds? No problem at all!"
The auctioneer rambled on, piling exaggerated claims onto his sales pitch before pulling away the crimson cloth covering the item.
What was revealed was a fist-sized lump of dark-golden material, uneven and lumpy on the surface—hardly appealing in shape, but its metallic sheen made it look extraordinary.
And extraordinary it was.
Though the auctioneer didn't know its true value—indeed, no one in the hall did—what he claimed wasn't entirely false. This was exactly what Oscar had been longing for these past two years: whale glue.
The lump wasn't large, but the moment Oscar laid eyes on it, he knew it was the real thing.
Among the hundred or so VIP guests present, more than four-fifths were men. Many had… needs.
Even if the thought of bidding openly might embarrass them—it was, after all, a tacit admission of weakness—there were at least ten people who clearly wanted it.
Oscar's eyes gleamed. He had never seen whale glue in person before, but his instincts screamed of its value. He had to secure it.
"Honored guests, this gentleman's best friend will start at one hundred gold soul coins. Each raise must be at least five coins."
The auctioneer knew exactly how to stir his audience, calling it "a man's best friend" to provoke the pride (and desperation) of those in need.
Sure enough, the first bidder was a man in black robes who immediately called, "One hundred and fifty!"—a number meant to scare off casual challengers.
It worked, at least for some. After all, one hundred fifty gold soul coins was no small sum, and anyone who could casually throw around such money already had ways to enjoy life.
But another bidder, from the Purple Section, raised without hesitation: "Two hundred!"
Thus began the tug-of-war. Back and forth, their bids pushed the price higher and higher until it reached eight hundred gold soul coins.
One of them finally backed down. In his view, the item wasn't worth the cost. After all, the auctioneer had said it was only about seven hundred years old. Even if it did enhance vitality, its effect would be limited.
Oscar, however, wasn't disappointed. The others had no idea of its true worth. Even a seven-hundred-year-old piece of whale glue could greatly improve his physical constitution.
"Lot Forty-Five bids **eight hundred soul coins, once… eight hundred, twice—"
Just then, Oscar raised his bidding paddle.
"One thousand."
The voice that came from his mouth wasn't his own, but that of a man in his thirties.
He wasn't being overly cautious—disguising one's voice with soul power was simple for any cultivator with fine control. Since he was concealing his identity anyway, Oscar decided to mask his voice as well.
The auctioneer's eyes lit up with joy. He had expected the sale to close at eight hundred, which was already profitable. But now the price had risen another two hundred! His commission had just grown handsomely.
The bidder who had offered eight hundred hesitated. At last, he slumped back in his chair, unwilling to pay such a steep price for something he didn't fully understand.
And just like that, the whale glue became Oscar's.
Others might scoff at the cost, but to him, this was an absolute bargain.
The auction continued, but none of the subsequent items interested him. By the time it ended, Oscar was buzzing with excitement, clutching his prize.
No one would hold a grudge against him for a fair purchase. Stories of "killing and robbing after an auction" did exist, but they were rare—otherwise, what would be the point of holding auctions at all? Everyone would just wait outside to snatch items.
After carefully confirming the lump was genuine and intact, Oscar tucked the whale glue into his soul tool and left.
It was about the appointed time to meet Ma Hongjun, who should already be waiting outside.
But when Oscar scanned the crowd, he saw no sign of him. Just as he began to wonder, a familiar figure stumbled into view—face swollen, nose bruised.
Ma Hongjun.
Oscar's chest tightened. Did he get beaten up?
Hurrying over, he caught the boy just as Ma Hongjun began wailing.
"Big Brother Oscar! I ran into bandits! That bastard robbed me of my money and beat me up!"
Oscar exhaled in relief. From the sound of it, Ma Hongjun wasn't seriously hurt. Just bullied.
"You're a soul master. How could you let someone bully you?" Oscar asked, frowning.
At that, Ma Hongjun broke into louder sobs and began recounting the whole humiliating story.