Human Auction
The first thing that caught Lee Kang’s eye was a young man in an extravagant purple robe. Gold thread was densely embroidered along the cuffs and collar. Two martial attendants followed close behind him.
Lee Kang took one look and made a rough guess.
The Murong clan, maybe.
That was the advantage of having spent so long lurking in the gallery. He’d seen a few posts saying the Murong clan had a bizarre fondness for gaudy purple clothes.
Strictly speaking, he couldn’t tell whether the man was from the Murong clan’s main family, a branch family, or just some peacock putting on airs. But at the very least, he was probably one of theirs. Which meant it made sense for him to swagger around so confidently in the Sacheonyeon market.
Nearby stood men dressed in rough leather clothes. Their garments were dirty, their hair tied back carelessly, and old clubs and pouches hung at their waists.
Beggar’s Clan.
Lee Kang recognized them too.
They looked like beggars, but they weren’t really beggars. Or rather, they were beggars and a force within the martial world at the same time. For information, they were one of the names that never failed to come up alongside the Hao Clan. And even they had come inside this auction house.
A little farther away, an old man in a robe of mixed white and black stood lazily with his back straight. His beard was streaked with gray, and he held a wooden sword so clean it didn’t seem to have a speck of dust on it.
Anyone could tell he’s from Wudang.
Lee Kang clicked his tongue inwardly. There were more orthodox sect members here than he’d expected.
The old man looked entirely at ease. He had made almost no effort to hide his face. That meant he didn’t care if people learned his name and affiliation.
They’re all fairly serious players, but none of them are the important ones.
This auction house wasn’t all that large. It wasn’t the kind of place where truly expensive items were sold, so the core members of a main family or a major mountain sect probably wouldn’t come personally.
People like that had no reason to come all the way to a Sacheonyeon auction house and loiter around. Most likely, it was branch members, peripheral disciples, or people who’d come for their own private desires.
Still, why is the Beggar’s Clan here?
Lee Kang mulled it over for a moment.
It wasn’t because they had money and came to buy things. Of course they probably had more money than Lee Kang did, but he couldn’t quite picture the Beggar’s Clan throwing large sums around at an auction.
He was just about to take a look at their status windows when he stopped.
Suddenly, the back of his neck turned cold.
Wait.
He swept his gaze over the auction house again. This time, instead of sects or clothing, he watched people’s hands and eyes.
Something was strange. There were too many modern people.
Lee Kang could identify modern people. The reason was simple: he could more or less infer that they were looking at the gallery window.
The gallery window that modern people saw was invisible to everyone else. But the gestures remained, as did the habit of staring into empty air.
Most people couldn’t hide it.
They would stare blankly at nothing, then squint. They would lightly push at the air with a finger. Their mouths would twitch as if reading comments.
Lee Kang had trained himself not to show it, but not everyone had his inclination for concealment.
One, two, three...
Before long, he had found more than ten modern people.
And that was only counting the ones who were clearly looking at the gallery. If he included those who weren’t looking at it right now, or the ones he’d missed, there would be far more.
Over thirty, probably.
Lee Kang narrowed his eyes.
This was strange.
This was Sacheonyeon territory. Not just a market, but an auction house. A dangerous place where wealthy orthodox martial artists, demonic merchants, branch families of righteous sects, information brokers, and black-terrace bastards all mixed together.
It was not the sort of place modern people came to casually browse.
What the hell is going on?
Lee Kang immediately opened his translucent gallery window. He needed to see whether any information was floating around.
Before he even typed in a search term, one featured post caught his eye.
A photo was attached.
It showed someone’s hand. Resting on the palm was a tiny black bead-like object. Beneath it was a short caption.
The person who took the photo was giving a thumbs-up with their other hand.
They looked exactly like a terrorist.
The comments were already flying like mad.
Lee Kang slowly closed the gallery window.
Did No Hyeonjin post that?
That was the first thing that came to mind.
Or maybe No Hyeonjin had seen the post and moved because of it. If not that, had he already known something was going to happen at the auction?
He couldn’t tell.
Outwardly, one might say it didn’t matter. Chaos was going to break out anyway, and Lee Kang could just use the opening.
But to Lee Kang, it mattered.
No Hyeonjin’s skill was at least somewhat trustworthy. That old man was not the type to gamble his own life carelessly. He was the most experienced man in the Sasameng, and he had the strength of a second-class martial artist to back it up.
But the other modern people were not trustworthy.
Especially the ones who posted things like that in the gallery.
If this goes wrong, I’m going to get cleaned out.
Lee Kang swallowed a sigh.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
Some posts were just bait. They’d write things like “there’s a place getting raided,” “a martial manual is being released somewhere,” or “a food storehouse is empty,” draw people in, and then hidden veterans would strip the modern people clean.
But some of them were real.
Thunderclap Bombs had actually gone off before. A small sect’s storehouse had been blown apart, and modern people who rushed in after hearing the news had grabbed scraps of manuals and food before fleeing.
Why would anyone share such good information?
The reasons were varied and complicated.
First, modern people could band together and rob the martial artists.
Second, they could seize items monopolized by the martial world.
Third, they could use the modern people who came after reading the post as bait and run away alone.
Anything was possible.
The problem was the outcome.
Sometimes only a few people profited. Sometimes every modern person who rushed in died.
Lee Kang had no intention of becoming that kind of bastard.
If No Hyeonjin is moving because of that anonymous post, he could’ve given me a heads-up, old man.
But the deed was already done.
The good thing was that Lee Kang at least knew about it in advance.
If I’d been in the middle of it without knowing, that would’ve been dangerous.
Thunderclap Bombs were usually planted near the center of a crowded place to cause maximum chaos, or around a main support pillar so the building would collapse.
Lee Kang was currently in the middle.
He slowly looked around and began to retreat.
One step. Then another.
If he moved too quickly, he’d stand out. So he worked his way naturally through the people gathered in the auction house, shifting gradually toward the entrance.
He couldn’t go all the way to the doorway. That would be too obvious.
If he looked like someone preparing to flee before the trouble even started, somebody would suspect him, whether they were modern or from Sacheonyeon.
He stopped at a spot not too close to the entrance, but not too far from the stage either.
Roughly five rows back from the door.
That was close enough to get out when chaos broke, but not so close that he’d look like a coward just waiting to bolt.
Of course, there was a downside.
From here, it would be hard to snatch the auction items. But he had to let that greed go.
That Transcendence girl is the priority.
Just then, a little ahead of him, about five seats away, Cheong Jangmi turned her head.
Their eyes met.
She seemed to have noticed that Lee Kang had shifted backward.
Even with her face hidden by a mask, she couldn’t conceal her puzzled air. Her gaze clearly asked why he was moving so far back.
Lee Kang acted as if he didn’t notice, while making a short hand gesture as though telling her to look at the gallery.
Cheong Jangmi immediately understood the signal and opened the gallery. Lee Kang hoped she wouldn’t come over here for no reason.
In the meantime, the murmur inside the auction house gradually died down.
The curtain behind the stage was drawn open.
Two Sacheonyeon martial artists came out first. Behind them walked a middle-aged man in a silk vest. He had a round face, a short beard, and thick rings on every finger.
The auctioneer.
As soon as he stepped to the center of the stage, he spread both arms wide.
“Honored guests.”
His voice, smooth as if oiled, rolled through the auction house.
“Welcome to the Mangwon Market regular auction. Today, we have prepared items far finer than usual. Manuals, elixirs, weapons, and spatial satchels. And at the very end, the special crippled meridian slave you’ve all been waiting for.”
At that, the air in the auction house heated slightly. The murmuring swelled.
The auctioneer clapped his hands.
Clap.
“Then let us begin with the first item.”
From behind the stage, Sacheonyeon martial artists carried out an old wooden box.