Here is Chapter 32 of Heaven Auctioneer: Monarchs of the Million
Inside the Heaven Auction Pavilion's inner sanctum, darkness flickered against the ancient walls as Li Xuan meditated beneath the Thousand Karmic Lanterns.
Each lantern held a remnant of a life he had rewritten—cultivators turned against their sects, emperors who suddenly lost their heirs, alchemists whose pills exploded mid-refinement. All puppets on invisible strings. All unaware of who held the blade above their fate.
He opened his eyes.
A ripple moved through the karmic web, subtle but insistent. A betrayal—not against him, but among his own loyal elite. He did not need names. He felt the echo of hesitation, a flicker of personal emotion, buried deep within the mind of one of the forty-nine.
Weakness.
Li Xuan raised his hand, drawing a glowing red thread from the web that danced before him. It led to Elite No. 36—Xue Han, a genius formation master under General Ruoqi.
Loyal. Obedient.
But… not empty.
He sensed hesitation in her karma. Not disloyalty—but attachment. She had grown fond of a cultivator from a minor sect they were meant to dismantle in the next phase of his expansion. Her karma was now… entangled.
Unacceptable.
With a slight tug, he twisted the thread.
Far away in a forest realm, Xue Han—while adjusting a defensive formation—suddenly collapsed. Her soul froze mid-cycle. Blood streamed from her nose and eyes. A red lotus bloomed from her back, burning her inner spirit to ash. She didn't scream. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. She simply vanished—reduced to karmic dust, her existence dissolved.
Li Xuan did not blink.
The karmic web pulsed again, correcting itself. Forty-eight elites remained.
A bell chimed.
General Ruoqi stepped into the hall, her steps light as frost.
"The Lifeline Lotus has been sold. Sixty-seven bids were placed. It went to the Young Lord of the Crimson Tiger Sect." She knelt, presenting a scroll.
Li Xuan opened it with a glance. His eyes skimmed the list—noting who bid, who hesitated, and who abstained. This auction hadn't been for profit.
It was a test.
Each bidder had unknowingly been laced with karmic bindings, their fate now tied to threads only Li Xuan could cut.
"Prepare the secondary auction," Li Xuan said. "This time, use General Wuyin."
"Yes, Master."
Ruoqi hesitated, then added, "Elite 36… her signal ceased."
"She no longer exists," Li Xuan replied.
Ruoqi lowered her head in silence. She did not question him. But deep within her, a cold fear stirred—a reminder that even flawless loyalty could be extinguished in a breath if it faltered for a heartbeat.
Outside, storm clouds gathered over the Nine-Ringed River, where three major sects had begun to rally against the auction's expansion. They believed the Heaven Auction Pavilion was growing too bold.
They had no idea how far behind they already were.
Inside the Hall of Mind Mirrors, Li Xuan stepped before a silver basin that reflected not his face, but his karmic construct—a blazing silhouette of black and red threads that spiraled endlessly. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned seven crimson flames.
Each flame became a small world—auction nodes he had planted across the Lower Realms. Some were disguised as medicine halls. Others as heretical temples. All were connected to the same truth: they were collecting fate.
And soon, they would collapse in unison, flooding him with karmic merit.
A soft knock echoed.
"Enter."
A young girl stepped in, no older than fifteen, wearing silken black robes. Her eyes were pure white, seeing not the physical world but karma itself.
"Master," she said, kneeling. "The Wheel Temple has activated the Eastern Mandate."
Li Xuan's eyes narrowed.
The Eastern Mandate was an ancient celestial decree, reserved only for times when the balance of fate was threatened. That temple—hidden in the ruins of an older realm—had remained silent for five thousand years.
And now they stirred.
He closed his hand.
"It's time."
Within an hour, Li Xuan stood atop the Auction Sky Altar, a platform so high it pierced the cloudline. Below, the world spun slowly, its karmic winds howling in awe.
The altar glowed as he fed it karmic essence, forged from tens of thousands of destinies. With a flash of red-gold light, a mark appeared behind him—a golden eye of karma, symbolizing dominion over life, choice, and consequence.
He had reached the peak.
But he wasn't done.
"I name this," he whispered into the void, "the Era of Weighed Fate."
With those words, the altar pulsed, sending a karmic shockwave across the Lower Realms. Sect leaders stumbled. Beasts whimpered. Seers cried out. Every cultivator felt it—the sensation of being seen by something far greater than themselves.
And from that moment onward, Li Xuan's presence became an unspoken truth.
You could defy your fate.
But you could not defy him.