Her pride burned.
She couldn't back down.
Not now.
Not before him.
Her voice rose again, stronger this time, biting through the heavy silence.
"One thousand and one hundred high-grade spiritual crystals!"
More gasps.
Even Fi Feng paused — the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to maintain composure.
But before he could even repeat the bid, Julian's voice cut through the air.
"Five thousand crystals."
The room froze.
Everyone turned to look — some trembling.
Even those who didn't know the value of five thousand crystals felt it, the overwhelming weight behind the number.
All eyes returned to the disguised Sect Leader.
She sat frozen, her fists clenched tight beneath the table, her anger bubbling behind her polite mask.
Julian's eyes didn't leave her. He stared straight down from his seat — locking onto her.
Not as a monk. Not as a guest.
But as a hunter.
And she — a saint—trembled.
