Time trickled away, drop by drop!
In the blink of an eye.
More than half a day had passed!
At this moment, on the bottommost line of the southern Light Screen...
08:37
Only a little over four hours remained until the ownership of the final batch of Spirit Pills was decided.
However, the competition for the Spirit Pills was no longer as fierce as before.
That did not mean there was no movement at all!
About every tea-brewing interval, the names beneath the rows of Spirit Pills would still change from time to time.
It looked calm on the surface, but in truth, this was the stillness before the storm.
The storm was brewing.
At this moment.
Although the Mortal Cultivators in the many small halls appeared relaxed, leaning back against their treasure seats, pairs of eyes hidden beneath masks, hoods, bamboo hats... were fixed tightly upon the southern Light Screen.
As time passed.
The names beneath the Spirit Pills on the Light Screen changed less and less frequently.
Previously, the rankings would shift about every tea-brewing interval. Now, nothing had changed even after an incense stick's time. It seemed the outcome had more or less been decided.
Because it was nearly over!
The bottommost line on the Light Screen displayed...
00:17
Roughly the time it took to brew a cup of tea.
At the same time.
Also on the top floor, within Small Reception Hall No. 102.
Seated upon the uppermost treasure seat was a ruddy-faced old man in purple robes. He held a cup of Spirit Tea in his hand. Wisps of green smoke drifted slowly upward, and a delicate fragrance spread through the air.
The lid in his hand lightly tapped along the rim of the cup.
This old man appeared ordinary enough, and his face was