Ye Liuyun’s single sentence drew a audible gasp from half the hall.

Everyone figured he either had nerves of steel or simply didn’t know how things worked here—daring to brush off Yu Wenqiang like that.

The auctioneer, publicly cornered by Ye Liuyun, flushed crimson then blanched. Yet Yu Wenqiang’s local clout was obviously no joke; the man daren’t offend him.

His lips twitched, still hunting for a way out.

Through his golden pupils Ye Liuyun caught Yu Wenqiang staring at the private box for a moment, then murmuring an order to his soldiers. Only then did the commander turn back to the host and snap:

“If he insists on buying, let him bid! I’d love to see whether he can actually walk out with that pill!”

After that declaration the He-family disciple who had meant to raise gave up with a helpless sigh.

The auctioneer dutifully asked if there were further bids—knowing no one would dare—then hammered down and declared the Marrow Washing Pill sold to Ye Liuyun. He exhaled in relief; at least the lot was off his hands.

Whether Ye Liuyun could leave the premises with it was someone else’s headache now.

Ye Liuyun didn’t linger; he pocketed the pill and paid in source stones on the spot. A garrison commander’s threats meant nothing to him.

The crowd clucked in pity, every eye on his booth full of sympathy.

Inside, Ye Liuyun merely ordered his fire-chariot crew to stand by.

“Worst case we blast the local garrison, change our faces and stroll back in—might even scoop up some surrendered gear.”

He was already counting how many extra resources he could harvest if it came to a fight.

Meanwhile the host moved on to the final lot of the night

“Nether Yin Flame—recovered from the seabed of Desolate Ocean...”

Ye Liuyun didn(’t bother listening; one glimpse of that flame and he decided it was his.

A nascent fire-spirit flickered inside it. Let his Ghostfire devour it and its power would leap again; lately his Golden-Crow Sacred Fire had grown enough—time to balance it with yin fire.

The host stressed its spirit birth, so alchemists, forgers and fighters all dove in. Two Seventh-Unity experts—one in a box, one down in open seating—slugged bids higher until price tripled reserve within breaths.

Even Commander Yuqian sat this one out; ordinary patrons could only watch and envy such wealth.

After a while boxed bidder played pedigree:

“I am Feng Chengan, steward of House Chen; this flame suits our smiths perfectly—friends, kindly step aside.”

Seated opposite came an icy snort: “House Chen means nothing—I’m Hong Bo, outer elder of Void Pill Sect; we need this Nether Yin Flame for disciples’ cauldrons!”

Names dropped, everyone gasped anew; no one else dared join. The pair kept stacking source stones bid by bid.

Ye Li wondered: when he’d fought for that soul-refining pill earlier Hong Bo had contested too—“If he really is an elder can’t their sect supply pills?”

But true or false made no difference—the flame would be his all right. Watching both men’s faces strain as they neared limit he calmly tossed another fifty source stones onto board:

“Who is this guy? Snatching what House Chen and Void Pill Sect want?”

“Loaded—but after ticking off every big-shot here good luck walking out alive.”

The scattered cultivators burst into fresh chatter.

From their private booths the big shots—and Elder Hong Bo of the Void-Pill Sect, still sitting among the common seats—watched with identical, mocking smiles.

Plainly, Ye Liuyun’s bidding spree had offended every powerhouse in the house. None of them intended to let him leave. Several groups were already loitering outside his booth.

“Seems the order here isn’t worth much; these so-called experts are little better than bridge-sector pirates.”

To Ye Liuyun, the local heavyweights were no nobler than the marauders who infested the Ferry-Bridge star belt—maybe even less straightforward.

No further bid appeared; the Yin-Profound Flame went to him uncontested.

This time even Feng Cheng’an and Hong Bo resolved not to let Ye Liuyun walk away. Yet they knew the drill: someone else would snatch it first; they would simply pay that thief afterward. With their backing, no one would dare refuse. Rather than fight, they worried about how they might outbid each other later.

Once the flame was hammered down, the auctioneer announced closure with visible relief and bolted backstage, determined to dodge whatever followed.

Nobody moved. The hall wanted a show—how would Ye Liuyun slip these wolves? Booth after booth turned amused eyes on him, waiting for the curtain call.

After a pause a woman’s voice rose: “Still acting cocky? Planning to camp here forever?”

Ye Liuyun ignored her. His first avatar had already swapped places; he himself was inside its pocket world refining Yin-Profound Flame. He would finish that before taking his marrow-cleansing pill. As for outside matters—he cared little: Snow-Wolf, Leng Yuan, metal puppets and fire chariot were all handed over; let them kill as they pleased.

On this Golden-Rock planet he need only avoid open war with House Hei; everything else could run itself.

The avatar felt no hurry—until suddenly every defensive array in every booth snapped off by order of management.

Now everyone could scan inside:

"Damn—a mere Third-step Unity kid! The brat’s got nerve!"

Seeing only Unity Three and no guards or entourage, none feared some hidden coloss behind him; his plain robes screamed "rogue cultivator," so they relaxed completely.