"Two million two hundred thousand," the middle-aged man said in a deep voice.
"Two million five hundred thousand." The old woman's voice was hoarse, yet it carried an unquestionable firmness.
The middle-aged man's expression shifted. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Two million eight hundred thousand."
The old woman looked at him and suddenly smiled.
That smile was somewhat eerie, somewhat chilling.
"Young man, this Phoenix Feather is something this old woman is determined to obtain. Why must you compete with me?"
The old woman smiled, but her smile was somewhat chilling.
The middle-aged man snorted coldly. "Treasures go to those capable of claiming them. Why should I yield it to you?"
The old woman nodded, her smile unchanged.
"Good, good."
"Three million."
After a pause, she spoke slowly.
The entire hall sucked in a breath of cold air.
Three million fortune stones!
That number was too terrifying.
The middle-aged man's face turned alternately green and pale.
He could afford three million.
But that was nearly his entire fortune.
Was a single Phoenix Feather worth it?
He hesitated.
The old woman watched him, her smile becoming ever more eerie.
"Young man, are you still raising the bid?"
The middle-aged man took a deep breath and shook his head.
"No more."
The old woman nodded in satisfaction and turned toward the stage.
"Girl, bring me the Phoenix Feather."
The maid looked toward the old man, who nodded.
The old woman accepted the Phoenix Feather, examined it carefully for a moment, then gingerly tucked it into her robes.
She turned around, hunched over her back, leaning on her cane as she vanished into the crowd step by step.
No one dared stop her.
Nor did anyone dare follow her.
That look from before, that eerie aura, sent a chill through everyone's hearts.
This