Ning Fengzhi

The three of them successfully entered the auction house using Sand-Shooting Shadow. The staff inspected the Hidden Weapon, and their attitude immediately changed from scrutiny to respect. They were given a special guide and even handed over three half-face masks.

Wang Xingyu took the mask and put it on his face, thinking to himself that this Hidden Weapon was indeed effective no matter where he went.

The auction hall was larger than it appeared from the outside. The dome was five or six zhang high, and a circular display stand in the center was brightly lit by soft Soul Guidance Lamp. The auctioneer was standing in the center of the display stand introducing a Soul Tool, and his voice Amplifying Soul Tool.

The surrounding area consisted of tiered, circular stands with hundreds of seats, almost all of which were occupied. Nobles in fine clothes, stern-faced Soul Master, and wealthy merchants with protruding bellies were all whispering amongst themselves.

"Wow, it's huge!" Xiao Wu grabbed Tang San's sleeve and looked around with her head tilted back.

As the three were about to walk deeper into the stands, Xiao Wu wanted to go around to the other side to see the exhibition booths. Just as she reached the corner of the aisle, a waitress in a fitted long dress reached out and stopped her.

The waitress wore a standard smile, her gaze sweeping over the three people—coarse clothes, no attendants, no jewelry—she didn't speak, but simply stepped aside to make way for a bloated middle-aged man behind her, bowing slightly, her smile a little sweeter than before, "This way, please."

Xiao Wu was left standing there, watching the waiter's retreating figure, her brows furrowing. "Looking down on people like that."

She didn't say anything more, and pulled Tang San and Wang Xingyu to sit down in an empty seat in the corner.

From this vantage point, you can see the entire hall in action—the auctioneer is enthusiastically promoting the items on the stage, VIPs are casually raising their paddles in the stands, and waitresses in matching long skirts are moving between the seats, carrying drinks, bending over, and smiling so close that some of their hands are already on their waists.

"Why are they all like this?" Xiao Wu asked, her tone filled with confusion and a hint of frustration.

"They were all bought by the auction house from a young age, raised from childhood, taught manners, and even their names were given by the auction house," Wang Xingyu said. "They are both service personnel and commodities."

Tang San frowned. "Then aren't they slaves? But didn't the two great empires long ago prohibit the buying and selling of slaves?"

"It's not that easy to ban it." Wang Xingyu looked at the Soul Tool on the display stand that had fetched an astronomical price. "It's simply a matter of whether it's worth it."

Xiao Wu fell silent. She watched as a waitress was pulled closer by the wrist by a customer, her face still bearing that standard smile. After a couple of seconds of silence, she suddenly spoke up, "Why don't we just buy them? Give them their freedom."

"I don't recommend it."

A voice came from the side. It wasn't Wang Xingyu, nor Tang San.

A man in a white suit walked up to the side at some point, his upper face covered by a mask. He was tall and slender, with a composed demeanor.

He casually sat down on the empty seat next to him. Behind him stood a white-haired man with long hair, no mask, his hands behind his back, his gaze indifferent yet intimidating.

After the man in the white suit sat down, he continued, "They've gotten used to being here, they depend on this place. If they suddenly gain freedom, without skills to make a living, it will be even harder for them to survive."

"Oh, I see..." Xiao Wu said with a hint of regret.

Wang Xingyu's gaze fell on the white-haired man, and his heart skipped a beat. He quickly recalled the original character in his mind—long white hair, standing with his hands behind his back, his aura restrained yet making people instinctively afraid to approach.

Looking at the man in the white suit sitting there, although he was wearing a mask, his gentle and refined demeanor concealed a shrewdness that was exactly like Ning Rongrong's.

"Could it be Sect Master Ning?" Wang Xingyu asked in a low voice.

The man in the white suit tilted his head slightly, his tone tinged with surprise. "Oh? We've met before?"

It really is Ning Fengzhi. And the one next to him must be Sword Douluo Chen Xin.

"I've never met you before," Wang Xingyu said, "But Rongrong has mentioned you. Besides, Sect Master Ning's aura can't be hidden even with a mask."

Sword Douluo chuckled softly beside him, "Fengzhi, I told you this mask was useless."

Ning Fengzhi sighed and removed his mask, revealing a Qing Ya and gentle face. He looked at the three of them and smiled, "What are your names?"

The three people announced their names one by one.

Ning Fengzhi nodded. "Rongrong did mention you to me. The second ring of the millennium—" His gaze lingered on Tang San for a moment, "... and a batch of Hidden Weapon, which seem to have been made by this young friend Tang San. Thank you very much."

Tang San quickly waved his hand. "No need to thank me, Rongrong and I are friends. Besides, you paid a high price for those Hidden Weapon, it was a fair trade."

"On behalf of myself, thank you." Ning Fengzhi's tone was gentle yet earnest. "The sect's transaction is a transaction, but I will remember this favor."

Tang San couldn't refuse any longer, so he nodded.

Wang Xingyu changed the subject. "Sect Master Ning, haven't you seen Rongrong yet? She asked for leave to return to the sect."

Ning Fengzhi smiled and said, "No need to be so polite, just call me Uncle Ning. I've been out on business these past few days and haven't returned to the sect yet. What's wrong? Did something happen to Rongrong?"

"Wouldn't that be a bit of a misunderstanding?" Wang Xingyu said. "It's alright, it was a surprise for you. You'll see when we get back. It's a pity there was only one serving for Rongrong, so I couldn't give you any more."

Ning Fengzhi laughed out loud, "What food? It's okay if I don't get any? But I'm really looking forward to what surprises you'll give me."

Xiao Wu's thoughts were still on the waitresses from earlier. She was quiet for a moment, then looked up again. "So, are they just going to be slaves for the rest of their lives?"

"Not necessarily." Wang Xingyu glanced towards the exhibition booth. "Once we've developed and gained resources and influence, we can change things. With great power comes great responsibility. A true man..."

Sword Douluo muttered to himself, "With great power comes great responsibility." He looked up at Wang Xingyu, a slight smile appearing on his usually calm face. "Little guy, you're right."

Wang Xingyu had been waiting for this very sentence. He immediately took out a brand new fan from his Storage Soul Tool, with the words "Tang Sect" written on the fan. He handed it over with both hands. "Thank you for the compliment, Senior Sword. Um—could Senior Sword sign my autograph?" It was like his fandom had come to life.

Sword Douluo paused for a moment, then chuckled. He took the fan and brush, and wrote a powerful "sword" character on the fan surface, the force penetrating the paper, the sharpness concealed.