A low murmur rippled through the auction hall's back rows, a venomous little eddy in the vast, expectant silence. Two minor demon generals, drunk on their own perceived anonymity, were whispering. Their eyes, sharp and greedy, were fixed on the black-robed figure seated before them. On him. On Luo Zhen.
Luo Zhen didn't turn. He didn't need to. He let their speculation—their whispers of his identity, the source of his wealth, the audacity of his presence—hang in the air for a moment longer. Then, slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, his gaze sweeping over them.
It wasn't a glare. It wasn't a threat. It was something far worse. It was the simple, crushing weight of reality. He was a half-step Demon King; they were insignificant gnats in the middle tier of the Demon Core realm. The gulf between them wasn't a gap; it was a chasm, an ocean of pure, suffocating power. He didn't need to flex a single muscle or channel an iota of demonic energy. His mere focus, his undivided attention, was a physical force that descended upon them like a mountain.
Their breath hitched. The blood drained from their faces, leaving behind a pasty, terrified pallor. The words died in their throats, strangled by a primal fear they couldn't comprehend. They shrank back in their seats, heads bowed, sweat beading on their brows. The message was sent and received without a single word uttered. They would not speak his name, or even think it, for the rest of the night.
Satisfied, Luo Zhen turned his attention back to the brightly lit stage at the heart of the cavernous hall. His expression was a mask of placid indifference, a calm sea belying the depths beneath.
The auctioneer, a slick, self-satisfied demon named Bai Guang, was currently presenting the penultimate item. He held up a delicate, silver-wrought ring, its surface shimmering under the magical lights. "A genuine spatial ring!" he boomed, his voice echoing with practised showmanship. "A pocket dimension at your fingertips! A must-have for any serious cultivator!"
A palpable wave of greed and desire washed over the hall. For the assembled demon generals, such an artifact was a mark of true status, a tool of immense practical value. The bidding erupted instantly, a cacophony of voices shouting ever-higher numbers.
Luo Zhen watched, unmoved. He did not need such a trinket. His own Black Gold Ring, resting coolly on his finger beneath his glove, contained a space that dwarfed this bauble. Its capacity was more than sufficient for his needs. The chaotic scramble for the silver ring was merely background noise, the frantic chirping of sparrows fighting over a crumb.
The battle was fierce, but ultimately brief. A sharp-featured female demon general, her eyes gleaming with triumph, secured the prize with a final, breathless bid of five hundred and eighty thousand spirit stones. As she claimed her new possession, a triumphant smirk gracing her lips, Bai Guang stepped forward again, clapping his hands to command the room's attention.
He let the applause die down, milking the moment for all it was worth. A wide, conspiratorial smile stretched across his face. "And now," he declared, his voice dropping to a dramatic hush, "we arrive at the grand finale! The final lot of the Red Rock City auction! I have saved the best for last, my friends, and I can personally guarantee that what you are about to witness will astonish you, shock you, and leave you utterly satisfied!"
A ripple of anticipation went through the crowd. "Get on with it, Bai Guang!" shouted a burly general. "Is it a legendary weapon? A top-grade artifact?"
"Better," Bai Guang replied with a smug shake of his head.
"A rare spatial treasure, then? A cauldron of priceless alchemical pills?" another voice called out.
"Better still," Bai Guang purred, his smile widening into a predatory grin. "Tonight, my friends, we are not auctioning an item. We are auctioning... three living souls!"
The words struck the hall like a bolt of lightning. "Living souls?" The murmur that followed was not one of greed, but of stunned, morbid curiosity. The energy in the room shifted, growing darker, sharper. This was something new, something transgressive.
Sensing he had his audience hook, line, and sinker, Bai Guang shot a triumphant glance toward the shadows backstage. "Bring them out!"
The heavy curtain parted, and three figures were brutally shoved onto the stage. They stumbled forward, their movements weak and uncoordinated, the heavy iron shackles on their wrists and ankles clanking a dissonant rhythm against the floorboards. They were humanoid, but their forms were subtly wrong, a grotesque fusion of man and insect. Their skin was a sickly, pale green, their limbs too long and thin, their faces gaunt and hollow-cheeked.
The moment they appeared, the placid mask on Luo Zhen's face shattered. A frigid shock coursed through him, and his posture went rigid. The air in his lungs turned to ice. He knew them. He knew their scent, the unique, faint aura that clung to them even in their degraded state.
It was the unmistakable essence of the Flying Fire Poison Ants.
Bai Guang, oblivious to the storm brewing in the back row, began his pitch. "Behold!" he announced, gesturing grandly at the three pathetic figures. "Three prime specimens of the Flying Fire Poison Ant clan! Each one is a demon general who has reached the formidable middle stage of the Demon Core realm! Captured, I might add, at great cost and considerable risk to our brave hunters."
He paused, letting the statement sink in. "Of course," he continued with a dismissive wave of his hand, "their demonic power is currently… suppressed. We've administered a special concoction to ensure their compliance. As they are now, these mighty warriors are weaker than a common human child."
To prove his point, he casually flicked his sleeve. A minor gust of wind, barely enough to stir a curtain, billowed across the stage. The three ant-men crumpled instantly, collapsing into a heap of shackled limbs, unable to even stand against the faintest breeze.
Laughter, cruel and sharp, echoed from parts of the audience.
"He's right! They're as fragile as glass!"
"Auctioning living demon generals… Red Rock City has some serious nerve!"
"To think, they're the same rank as me," a general muttered, a shiver running down his spine. "Treated like livestock."
"It takes incredible power to capture three of them alive," another noted with a grudging respect. "The city's masters are not to be trifled with."
Amid the clamour, a practical voice cut through the noise. "This is all very impressive, Elder Bai, but what use are they? What good are three weakened, powerless demon generals to us?"
Bai Guang's grin returned, wider and more predatory than ever. "An excellent question! It seems our friend here is unfamiliar with the unique… talents of the Flying Fire Poison Ant." He fixed his gaze on the questioner. "Their name, you see, hints at their three primary abilities: flight, mastery of fire-based arts, and a potent, deadly venom."
"But their most coveted secret, their most valuable attribute," he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is their innate ability to refine pure iron essence!"
A collective gasp sucked the air from the room.
"That's right!" Bai Guang crowed, seeing the dawning comprehension and avarice on their faces. "Their bloodline, their very biology, is a living forge! They consume common, worthless iron, and through a secret process within their bodies, they transmute it into the purest, most valuable iron essence—a key ingredient in forging high-grade artifacts and weapons!"
"Imagine," he continued, his voice dripping with temptation, "taking one of these home. You feed it scrap metal, and it produces a steady, endless supply of priceless material for you! The daily amount may be small, almost negligible, but over months… over years… the returns are staggering! It is an investment that literally pays for itself in refined steel!"
He let the image percolate, then added another layer of appeal. "And let us not forget their inherent power! While currently suppressed, they remain middle-stage Demon Core masters. Imagine them as your personal enforcers, your loyal bodyguards! Picture yourselves walking the streets, flanked by three demon general attendants! The prestige! The power! The sheer, unadulterated style!"
His words lit a fire in the eyes of many. The initial shock was rapidly being replaced by calculated greed.
A powerful demon general at the peak of the Demon Core realm, his eight spidery eyes gleaming, rose slightly. "A fine sales pitch, auctioneer. But you neglect a key detail. These are proud warriors. How do you propose we ensure their loyalty? What's to stop them from escaping or, worse, turning on their new master once their power is restored?"
The question hung in the air, echoed by murmurs of agreement. It was the crux of the matter.
Bai Guang simply chuckled, a sound devoid of any real humour. "Rest assured, my friends, we are not amateurs. We have considered every eventuality." He paused for dramatic effect. "To ensure absolute, foolproof control, each of them has been administered a two-part solution: the Power-Dissolving Powder, which you've already seen the effects of, and something far more… permanent. A little insurance policy we call the Heart-Gnawing Pill."
At the mention of that name, a visible tremor went through the more knowledgeable members of the crowd. Faces paled. The Heart-Gnawing Pill was not just a tool of control; it was a legend of refined, unimaginable cruelty.
In the back row, Luo Zhen felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. He didn't need to have heard of the pill to understand its nature from Bai Guang's description. It was a failsafe of pure torment, a leash forged from agony itself. It reminded him of the fictional 'Life-and-Death Talismans' from the stories of his past life-a method of control so absolute because it made obedience the only escape from unbearable pain.
"The powder keeps them weak," Bai Guang explained with relish, "but the pill… the pill ensures their loyalty. Should they ever regain their freedom, should they ever harbour a rebellious thought, the pill will activate. It induces a pain so excruciating, so all-consuming, that they would beg for death, a death that will never come. The only relief? A special antidote, which only their master possesses. An antidote they will need at regular intervals for the rest of their miserable lives. They will not just serve you; they will need you to survive. Tell me, where is the risk of betrayal in that?"
To demonstrate, he produced three tiny, innocuous-looking pills from his sleeve—the temporary antidote to the Power-Dissolving Powder. He forced one into each of the ant-men's mouths.
The effect was instantaneous. A surge of power washed over them, their pale skin regaining a hint of colour, their frail bodies suddenly radiating the potent energy of a middle-stage Demon Core cultivator. They were warriors once more.
"Elder Bai, you madman!" someone cried out. "You've restored their strength! What if they attack?"
Bai Guang simply held up a hand, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Patience," he whispered. "I've timed this perfectly. The show is just beginning."
His words had barely faded when it started. A collective, soul-shattering scream tore from the throats of the three poison ant generals. They clutched their heads, their bodies convulsing violently as they crashed to the floor. They thrashed and writhed, clawing at their own skulls as if trying to rip the agony out by the roots. Foam frothed at their lips, their eyes rolled back in their heads, and their bodies shuddered in a horrific, uncontrolled dance of pure torment.
"You see?" Bai Guang bellowed over their screams, his voice filled with a venomous triumph. "The Heart-Gnawing Pill has activated! Right on schedule! Now, watch them crawl! Watch them beg!"