Qing Chen narrowed his eyes.
Someone at the sixth layer of Qi Refining dared to squander money like this? Tossing out over ten thousand spirit stones without so much as blinking.
That brat had at least another ten thousand spirit stones tucked away in his Storage Bag.
Who cared whether he was some second-generation cultivator? If he had no guards beside him, then he had to be robbed.
Qing Chen swept his gaze over several other cultivators at the Qi Refining ninth layer in the auction hall-their auras had plainly grown a little unsettled too.
Who wouldn't covet that wealth?
A single Foundation Establishment Pill was enough to make these old fellows, stuck at their bottleneck for years, stake their lives.
Background?
Only the living had a background. The dead were merely part of the scenery.
Normally, a brat at the sixth layer of Qi Refining who gritted his teeth and scraped together three or four hundred spirit stones for a high-grade magical artifact would already count as very well-off.
Yet from those three spirit talismans until the hammer fell on the third finale item, Qing Chen had watched with a cold eye, and Elysium's attitude as the host had been very subtle indeed.
Usually, whenever someone raised a bid, the female auctioneer would have scanned the hall, urging everyone on with a charming smile. But whenever it was this brat's turn, she fell silent and simply waited.
That tiny change set alarm bells ringing in Qing Chen's mind.
He didn't dare make a move.
Moreover, something about the young man's bearing and aura kept giving Qing Chen a sense of familiarity.
His thoughts raced. When did I ever know a filthy rich bastard like this without making a move on him?
Qing Chen restrained himself from flicking out even