Chapter 112: The Netherworld Stone Acquired

“Hmph!” Zhao Feng shook his head. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to take it by force! Originally...”

“I was even willing to heal you, but now it seems unnecessary!”

Boom!

Zhao Feng struck out immediately.

He formed hand seals, his fingers weaving through intricate gestures.

In an instant, a beam of spiritual light appeared.

Zhao Feng slapped his palm forward, and the beam shot directly toward Wang Hu.

The green light pierced straight into Wang Hu’s body before he could even react.

Wang Hu stared at his own body in shock.

“What have you done to me?!” he screamed in terror.

“Heh heh heh!” Zhao Feng sneered coldly. “Nothing much, just taking your life.”

Gasps erupted from the crowd.

“What kind of person is this? How can he take a life without a word?”

“There’s such a heavy aura of malice about him!”

“Yes, indeed!”

Wang Hu let out a pained groan.

He clasped his own throat with both hands, squeezing fiercely.

“What have you done to me? Why can’t I control my own body?” Wang Hu struggled to speak.

A cruel smile tugged at the corner of Zhao Feng’s lips.

“Now, I’ll give you one last chance. Hand over the Yinming Stone!”

Wang Hu gasped, “Let go of me first...”

“Hmph!”

Zhao Feng formed another hand seal, and Wang Hu’s grip loosened considerably.

“Damn you, you bastard!” Wang Hu cursed fiercely.

“Heh!” Zhao Feng’s face darkened, his smile turning cruel.

He extended his right hand, raising his index and middle fingers in a sword-like gesture.

Instantly, Wang Hu writhed in agony again.

He clutched his neck with both hands, squeezing with such force it seemed he might strangle himself.

“Stop! Let me go! I’m willing to hand over the Yinming Stone!” Wang Hu gasped desperately.

But Zhao Feng paid no heed.

He flicked his sword-finger once more.

Wang Hu’s body slowly lifted off the ground.

Still clutching his own neck, his feet left the floor as he kicked helplessly.

At this moment, Wang Hu resembled a man hanging by a noose.

His kicks grew weaker, his breath faltering.

Just as his eyes began to roll back in death...

The spell on him was broken.

With a heavy thud, Wang Hu collapsed to the ground.

“Ha! Ha!” Wang Hu gasped heavily, staring at Zhao Feng in disbelief. “What realm are you in?”

Zhao Feng slowly extended his right hand. “Hand over the Yinming Stone.”

“All right! All right!” Wang Hu shakily produced a black stone from his bosom.

Reluctantly glancing at it one last time, he gritted his teeth and tossed it to Zhao Feng.

Zhao Feng caught it and examined it. Indeed, it was the Yinming Stone.

He pocketed it and then sat back down.

Crossing one leg over the other, he leaned into the chair and closed his eyes, drifting into a deep sleep.

No one present dared to utter a sound.

Wang Hu was already considered the pinnacle among cultivators, yet this mysterious young man subdued him with ease, a testament to his formidable power.

The organizer behind the auction wiped sweat from his brow in relief.

He was fortunate not to have done anything excessive.

He and Wang Hu were roughly equals in strength; if even Wang Hu was no match, then the organizer was in no position to challenge Zhao Feng.

Time passed by the minute until it reached 2:20.

During the interval, more people arrived one after another.

Each newcomer glanced at Zhao Feng upon entering.

Unlike the others, who were fully armed and masked, Zhao Feng’s face was bare and visible.

Yet, as if by unspoken agreement, no one dared to provoke him further.

At 2:20, Zhao Feng slowly opened his eyes.

The crowd followed suit, all gazing expectantly toward the auction platform.

An elderly man stepped forward.

He approached the high table and struck it once with a small gavel.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the auction now begins!”

Applause broke out.

“Heh heh heh!” The old man smiled. “The first item up for auction is a flying sword!”

Gasps of surprise swept through the crowd.

“A flying sword? Now that’s a treasure!”

“Indeed! A good flying sword can greatly enhance one’s combat power!”

“That’s right!”

The old man chuckled as he opened a crimson brocade box.

Inside lay a fiery red flying sword.

“This is a first-grade flying sword!” the old man announced.

The so-called first-grade flying sword was a mundane world classification; within the Immortal Sect, flying swords were divided into four tiers: Earth, Heaven, Mystery, and Yellow.

In worldly terms, a first-grade flying sword was the lowest rank.

Yet even the lowest flying sword could incite a bidding frenzy.

Beside Zhao Feng, Red Field grew excited.

“Zhao Feng, it’s a flying sword! I want it!” Red Field exclaimed.

Zhao Feng rolled his eyes. “It’s just a junk flying sword.”

“Hmph!”

Red Field pouted. “It’s red, and I like red, so I want it.”

Zhao Feng was speechless. “You’re buying a flying sword just to decorate yourself?”

“Why not?” Red Field said excitedly. “It can be my hairpin!”

Zhao Feng shook his head in disbelief. “You’re buying a flying sword to use as a hairpin?”

“Otherwise? You want me to fight with it?”

Zhao Feng shrugged. “Fine, buy it.”

“Yeah!” Red Field waved his arm jubilantly.

Zhao Feng scratched his nose. “What currency do they use here?”

Red Field rolled his eyes. “Money, of course. Barter is also accepted but not very cost-effective. You know, resources are scarce in the mundane world.”

Zhao Feng nodded, understanding the situation.

The old man addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, the starting price for this flying sword is five million. Each subsequent bid must increase by at least one million.”

Boom!

Immediately, someone raised a hand.

“I bid six million!”

The crowd murmured in surprise.

“Six million for a first-grade flying sword? Seems a bit steep.”

“Yeah, right?”

Before the murmurs subsided, another voice rang out.

“I bid seven million!”

All eyes turned to the bidder: the Overlord Wang Hu.

Wang Hu had no time to gloat before a calm voice interrupted.

“I bid eight million!”

“Who the hell are you?!” Wang Hu cursed, taken aback.

The bidder was none other than Zhao Feng.

Wang Hu quickly forced a smile. “Ah, it’s you! You’re interested in this flying sword too?”

Zhao Feng responded with a faint hum, saying no more.

After Zhao Feng’s bid of eight million, no one dared to raise their offer.

The crowd shrank back, unwilling to provoke Zhao Feng’s ill will.

Yet the old man on the platform was displeased.

With Zhao Feng’s bid, no one else dared to compete, potentially lowering the final sale price.

He didn’t bang the table but asked, “Any higher bids?”

The crowd exchanged glances, but no one stepped forward.