Flickers of Fortune and Gathering Storms
The rest day dawned clear and mild, a deceptive calm after the tempest of the previous week. Yao Xuan observed Tang Wulin with a quiet, analytical eye. The younger boy's restlessness was palpable—a subtle tremor in his hands, a distracted gaze that often fixed on the middle distance. Without the desperate, life-threatening triggers of the original timeline, the awakening of his Golden Dragon King bloodline was a slower, deeper boil, not a sudden explosion. It was a primal hunger manifesting, a cellular craving for vast energy to fuel a slumbering god. This controlled pace was ideal; it allowed Yao Xuan to remain the anchor, the guide, the one who could strategically "share" in the fortune such a destiny attracted.
When Tang Wulin hesitantly proposed a trip to the auction house, Yao Xuan agreed with an ease that masked his own agenda. "A good idea. I've been curious about the spiritual object market myself. Let's all go—it'll be a useful reconnaissance." He included Xie Xie and, with a glance, Gu Yue. It was a team activity, a logical outing. Gu Yue, upon hearing Yao Xuan would attend, had simply nodded, offering no reason but her silent presence.
Led by Xie Xie, who fancied himself a connoisseur of city life, they arrived at the Donghai Auction House. The building was a monument to opulent discretion, all polished dark stone and shimmering, muted spirit-light arrays. Flanking the city museum, it spoke of legitimacy and immense wealth. Presenting their Soul Master identifications—a point of quiet pride for Tang Wulin and Xie Xie—they were ushered inside.
"Out with it, Wulin," Xie Xie said as they passed through the grand, echoey foyer. "What's the sudden itch for an auction house? Looking for a fancy spirit tool to impress someone?" His tone was teasing, but his eyes were genuinely curious.
Tang Wulin rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture of awkwardness. "I... I'm not sure myself. Just a feeling. Maybe I'll know it when I see it?" The lie was clumsy, but his sincerity sold it. The mysterious seal in his soul whispered of needs he couldn't articulate.
Xie Xie shrugged, accepting the non-answer. "Fair enough. Sometimes you just gotta follow a hunch."
They found the Spiritual Flora exhibition hall. It was a serene, climate-controlled space that felt like a cross between a laboratory and a treasure vault. Rows of transparent alloy cases glowed under focused lights, each holding a bizarre, wondrous fruit, root, or flower. The air smelled faintly of ozone, damp earth, and a dozen indistinct, sweet-spicy aromas. Next to each specimen, a sleek plaque listed its name, approximated age, primary effects, and a starting bid that made Tang Wulin's breath catch.
Yao Xuan activated his Eye of Observation. A stream of data, far more detailed than the auction house plaques, superimposed itself over his vision.
<[Dragon Vein Grass] - 10 Year Maturity. Rare Plant. Effect: Moderate physique enhancement. System Analysis: Consumable. Yields approximately +7 Gold Evolution Points. Efficacy diminishes with repeated use of same variant.>
<[Iceheart Crystal Fruit] - 30 Year Maturity. Ice-Attribute. Effect: Soul power purification & boost (enhanced for ice-attributed martial souls). System Analysis: Consumable. Yields +4 Gold Evolution Points.>
<[Purple Spirit Bloom] - 50 Year Maturity. General Spirit Flora. Effect: Soul power consolidation, minor potential expansion. System Analysis: Consumable. Yields +10 Gold Evolution Points.>
He scanned methodically. While fascinating, a faint disappointment settled in. The auction house appraisers were ruthlessly competent. There were no hidden gems, no massively undervalued treasures waiting for his unique sight. Every price tag was a cold, accurate reflection of the spiritual energy contained within.
More importantly, he began to calculate. The conversion rate was brutally inefficient. The ten-year Dragon Vein Grass was priced at 280,000 Federal Credits. For seven Evolution Points. The math was disheartening. Amassing significant points through purchased low-level spiritual objects would require a fortune of millions—funds far better spent elsewhere. The system's path via spiritual objects was clearly meant for chance encounters with wild, undiscovered treasures, not open market consumption. He filed the knowledge away; it was a tool for a very specific, opportunistic scenario.
Tang Wulin finished his circuit of the room, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Xie Xie," he asked, voice low, "are there... older ones? Hundred-year ones?"
Xie Xie nodded. "Second floor. Maybe even third. But access isn't free. You need to prove purchasing power—a 100,000 credit deposit just to get a bidding paddle for the second floor. For the third-floor VIP auctions? A million credit line. And that's just the entry fee. Any genuine hundred-year treasure starts in the millions." He delivered the information matter-of-factly, watching his friend's face fall.
"Millions..." Tang Wulin murmured, his fist clenching at his side. The scale of the challenge was a mountain suddenly revealed before him. He had less than a year. The weight of it was a physical pressure on his chest.
"Hey." Xie Xie bumped his shoulder gently, his usual brashness softened. "Whatever it is, you're not alone. You've got us. Brother Xuan, me... even the ice queen over there." He jerked a thumb toward Gu Yue, who was examining a frost-lichen with detached academic interest. "Between all of us, we'll figure it out. Right, Boss?"
Yao Xuan placed a steadying hand on Tang Wulin's other shoulder. "Xie Xie's right. Large problems are just a series of smaller, solvable ones. We have time, and we have a team." His words were a vow. He would help Tang Wlin gather the resources, for in doing so, he would steer the destiny and learn more about the bloodline seals himself.
Tang Wulin looked between them, the helpless tension easing a fraction. "Thanks," he said, the word thick with emotion.
They spent another hour exploring the first floor's wonders—intricate soul tools, rare ores, historical artifacts. It was a glimpse into the vast, material economy of the Soul Master world. Gu Yue drifted through it all like a ghost, occasionally pausing when something related to elemental principles or ancient scripts caught her eye. Once, her gaze met Yao Xuan's across a display of dragon-etched scale fragments. She held it for a second, a silent sharing of perspective, before looking away.
Nature itself seemed to delay the inevitable confrontation. A fierce typhoon swept in from the sea, drenching Donghai City for a week, canceling all outdoor activities and suspending the promotion tournament. It was a week of intensified indoor training, of strategy sessions in Wu Zhangkong's office where the blackboard became a web of tactics against Class One's known strengths.
When the skies finally cleared, the air was scrubbed clean and electric with anticipation. The final match of the freshman promotion tournament was no longer a minor school event. It was a campus spectacle.
Hundreds of seats around the arena were packed to overflowing. The entire intermediate division seemed to be present, joined by clusters of senior students, their uniforms standing out. The buzz was a living thing. They had come for the legend of Wu Zhangkong, but they were staying for the drama of his prodigies versus the established aristocracy of Class One.
On the left side of the arena, Wu Zhangkong stood like a blue-clad monolith. Before him, Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, and Xie Xie formed a line. They had not broken through new levels in the week, but there was a new density to their aura—a honed, collective focus. Yao Xuan (Level 21), Gu Yue (Level 19), Xie Xie (Level 21). Tang Wulin watched from just behind the barrier, his support a solid, warm presence at their backs.
From the right, their opponents emerged, led by their homeroom teacher, Ye Yingluo. She shared a clear familial resemblance with the more amiable Ye Yingrong, but where the Class Three teacher had warmth, Ye Yingluo possessed a sharp, evaluative coldness, a hawk-like pride. She surveyed Wu Zhangkong's team with the air of a scientist examining an interesting, but ultimately predictable, specimen.
Behind her stood the power of Class One. Three figures. In the center, a boy with an aura of contained, sun-like heat: the only other Great Soul Master in their grade. To his sides, two others whose spirits crackled with complementary energies. They were polished, confident, and radiated the privilege of those who had always been at the top.
Long Hengxu's voice amplified over the crowd, but the usual procedural words were swallowed by the wave of noise that rose in anticipation. This was it. The dark horse against the crown prince. The disciplined formation of Wu Zhangkong's unconventional picks against the refined, formidable might of the elite class.
As the countdown began, Yao Xuan's mind was preternaturally clear. The auction house, the spiritual objects, Tang Wulin's quiet struggle—it all receded. There was only the arena, his teammates, and the three opponents before him. He exhaled slowly, feeling the dormant power of his Ancestral Dragon bloodline stir in response to the coming challenge. Gu Yue, beside him, shifted her weight almost imperceptibly, the air around her growing subtly charged and ready.
The gong sounded.
The battle for supremacy of the freshman year began.