The Invincible Auction House

Chapter 11: Rivalry Ignited

The tension in Rydale had grown thick as smoke, impossible to ignore. Whispers of sabotage, betrayal, and hidden enemies ran through the streets like a fever, igniting paranoia. The fragile peace between the Ironclad Sect and the Merchant Guild had been reduced to embers, and neither faction trusted the other enough to seek compromise. Pride made them inflexible. Fear made them dangerous.

In the Ironclad Sect's austere stone hall, Elder Wei Lian presided over a tense assembly. Torches flickered, their flames stretching shadows along the walls as the gathered disciples stood at attention around a massive wooden table marked with maps and reports.

"Our shipment of Moonshade Herbs has been intercepted," Wei Lian began, his tone sharp as a blade. "The trail of evidence leads directly to the Merchant Guild. Harron has crossed the line."

Murmurs erupted among the disciples. A young cultivator in crimson robes, his sharp features twisted with anger, slammed his fist against the table. "Elder Wei, we cannot let this stand! The guild humiliates us with impunity. Let us strike back—publicly and decisively."

Wei Lian's gaze snapped toward him, his voice like steel. "And do what, Ren Yi? Storm their compound like common thugs? That is not the Ironclad way."

The younger disciple faltered but didn't sit. "If we sit idle, the people of Rydale will see us as weak."

Wei Lian raised a hand, silencing further dissent. He began to pace, his heavy robes rustling against the stone floor. "We will not be baited into reckless action. No—our response must be deliberate. Disrupt their trade routes. Undermine their reputation. When they retaliate, the city will see them as aggressors." A thin, calculating smile curved his lips. "Patience is our greatest weapon."

From the shadows of the hall, a hooded figure shifted slightly. Beneath his cloak, a faintly glowing insignia etched with Adam's system-bound magic pulsed with energy, capturing every word spoken. Without a sound, the spy slipped out, unnoticed by even the sharpest of cultivators.

Across the city, in the gilded chambers of the Merchant Guild, Harron paced like a caged beast. His office, usually pristine, was now a mess of scattered documents and reports—all detailing losses tied to mysterious attacks. His frustration burned hot, his heavy boots echoing on the marble floor.

"Those sanctimonious fools in the Ironclad Sect think they can cripple us?" Harron growled, slamming his fist on the desk. "They've underestimated the guild for the last time."

Felmar, his wiry and conniving advisor, stepped forward, his voice calm but cold. "We have options, Guildmaster. I can arrange for a team to 'borrow' a few precious artifacts from their vaults—just subtle enough to make them think we struck back in kind."

Harron's scowl melted into a wicked grin. "Do it. And make sure the evidence points nowhere near us." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Let's see how righteous they feel when their vaults are emptied."

From his private quarters in the auction house, Adam watched it all unfold through the pulsing glow of the orb. The system fed him live updates, every critical event captured and relayed in golden text.

Adam sipped his tea slowly, the faint smile on his lips betraying his satisfaction. "Perfect. Now, it's time to fan the flames further."

He summoned Ren and the other assistants, gathering them around a map of Rydale spread across the table. The city's major routes, strongholds, and trade hubs had all been marked with careful precision.

"Our next auction must be tailored to their desperation," Adam began, his tone calm but commanding. "Offer treasures that both factions will covet but cannot share—items that will deepen their mistrust and stoke their rivalry."

Ren hesitated, his unease growing. "Master Adam… isn't this dangerous? If they realize we're manipulating them—"

"They won't," Adam cut him off smoothly, his eyes glinting with confidence. "Greed blinds them to the truth. Focus on the outcome, Ren. The greater their desperation, the stronger we become."

Ren nodded reluctantly, though doubt lingered in his gaze.

The night of the second auction arrived, and the grand hall was packed to capacity. Cultivators, merchants, and cloaked figures filled every seat, their hushed conversations layered with tension. At opposite ends of the room, the representatives from the Ironclad Sect and the Merchant Guild sat glaring at one another, their hostility thinly veiled.

Adam stepped forward, his steps measured and his presence commanding. The soft pulse of the glowing orb intensified as if responding to his intentions.

"Welcome back," he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "Tonight's offerings are unlike anything you've seen before. Prepare yourselves for opportunities few will ever have the privilege to touch."

The orb flared to life, golden light sweeping across the room as shimmering text appeared.

A collective murmur erupted from the crowd. The Bloodforged Armor was legendary—capable of amplifying the wearer's strength and resilience, making it a prize beyond value for any faction or warrior.

Harron was the first to act, his voice booming with authority. "1,000 spirit stones!"

"1,500," a disciple of the Ironclad Sect countered instantly, his cold expression betraying no hesitation.

Harron's eyes narrowed. "2,500!"

The room crackled with tension as bids volleyed back and forth. The representatives' voices grew sharper, their composure beginning to fray as they fought to claim the artifact. Adam observed from the stage, his face impassive, though his thoughts hummed with satisfaction.

They're dancing to my tune.

The second item—a Veil of Invisibility—proved equally incendiary. For the Merchant Guild, it was a tool for covert operations. For the Ironclad Sect, it was a safeguard for their assets. Bidding escalated into a heated war, with neither faction willing to yield.

As the auction continued, Adam introduced treasures designed to exploit their fears and ambitions: a poison-detecting artifact, a talisman capable of piercing defensive formations, and a scroll that nullified illusion spells. With each bid, distrust deepened and resentment flared.

By the end of the night, both factions departed with empty wallets and treasures in hand—but also with simmering hostility that would soon boil over.

Back in his private quarters, Adam leaned back in his chair, reviewing the system's updates.

Ren approached hesitantly, his face lined with concern. "Master Adam, the factions… they're growing more aggressive. Are you sure this won't spiral out of control?"

Adam's gaze was cold and unwavering. "Control is an illusion, Ren. What matters is the outcome. The more they fight, the more they need me. And when they need me, I win."

Ren swallowed hard but said nothing, stepping back quietly.

Adam turned to the glowing orb, its steady rhythm echoing the growing chaos outside. His smile returned, sharp and deliberate.

"The board is set," he whispered to himself. "Now it's time to play the next move."

The orb flared brightly in response, its light dancing like a silent promise. Rydale's factions were mere pieces on his board, and Adam held the hand that would decide the game.