Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 250: Joint Bidding

Standing on the high platform, Wang Hao swept his gaze over the Foundation Establishment cultivators. He took in their expressions, sighing inwardly. The moment this auction concluded, a storm of bloodshed would engulf the region. Some of these cultivators were destined to Perish before the sun rose twice. Yet, Wang Hao was powerless to prevent it. The Wang family could only enforce order within the immediate vicinity of Qingniu Market; what happened hundreds of miles away was beyond their control.

Truthfully, if these factions slaughtered each other, it wasn’t exactly detrimental to the Wang family. A weakened neighborhood meant a docile neighborhood, allowing the rising Wang clan to devour a larger share of the region’s resources without contest.

“Ahem. Everyone, quiet down,” Wang Hao announced, his voice slicing through the frantic murmurs. He held the unadorned jade slip high above his head. “We will now begin the bidding for today’s grand finale: the Profound Origin Sword Art! Starting bid: 50,000 Low Grade Spirit Stones. Minimum increment: 2,000!”

“Hahaha! A Golden Core technique! It is mine!” A burly, heavily bearded late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator roared from the second floor. He bypassed the minimum increment entirely. “60,000!”

Instantly, a cultivator in sharp blue robes sneered. “Tch. Many fools bark loudly at the start, but few have the teeth to bite at the end. 65,000!”

Across the VIP tier, Li Yaozu shot a desperate glance at Lei Liheng. Lei Liheng gave a barely perceptible nod.

Li Yaozu immediately leaned forward. “70,000!”

“Hmph. We’ll see who’s barking soon enough,” the bearded man shot back. “75,000!”

“80,000!”

The frenzied bidding war on the second floor left the mass of Qi Condensation cultivators on the ground floor utterly stupefied. Many felt their mouths go dry, their chests tightening as if the sheer weight of the numbers was crushing the air from their lungs. As the price climbed higher and higher, the suffocating atmosphere grew almost unbearable.

“Gods… support me. I think I’m going to pass out. We’re talking about Spirit Stones, right? Not river pebbles?”

“I’ve truly broadened my horizons today. Hah! Old Zhang is going to weep blood when he hears what he missed. I’m going to rub this in his face for a decade!”

Up in the boxes, the dynamics were shifting. Some bidders were lone wolves, representing a single wealthy faction. Others, like Li Yaozu and Lei Liheng, had formed two-party alliances. A few desperate groups had even formed syndicates of three or four. After all, a cultivation manual wasn’t a Magical Artifact or a Pill that could only be consumed by one person. As long as the syndicate won the bid, they could simply copy the jade slip for each member.

The price of the Profound Origin Sword Art rocketed upward, only beginning to slow once it breached the terrifying threshold of 100,000 stones.

At this point, only four or five active bidders remained, each backed by a coalition of tense supporters. The solitary bidders had long since been priced out. It was too late for them to forge new alliances; they could only glare at the remaining competitors with venomous resentment, their minds churning with dark, violent schemes.

“110,000,” Li Yaozu grated out, sweat beading heavily on his forehead.

Simultaneously, he shot a frantic voice transmission to Lei Liheng. “Fellow Daoist Lei! How deep are your pockets? If the price keeps climbing, I fear our combined funds will break!”

Lei Liheng grimaced. “I arrived with 50,000, but after securing the Foundation Restoration Pill, I only have 40,000 liquid stones left!”

“What?! Only 40,000?” Li Yaozu’s shoulders slumped, the color draining from his face. “Then we are finished. It seems this inheritance has no fate with our clans.”

Lei Liheng felt a bitter pang of helplessness. He had tried to pull other factions into their alliance during the lull, but everyone was either already partnered up or deeply distrustful of him. Without trust, a syndicate was impossible.

“115,000!” the bearded cultivator bellowed, casting a mocking, triumphant glare at the blue-robed man who had insulted him earlier.

The blue-robed cultivator’s face twisted in fury. “You think I’m afraid of you? 120,000!”

The arena erupted. The sheer scale of the wealth being thrown around infected the Qi Condensation crowd, turning their eyes red with vicarious thrill.

“120,000… you could build a literal mountain out of that many stones!”

“I may only be in Qi Condensation, but even I know the market rates. This is absurdly overpriced!”

“Shut up, Old Man Xu, you don’t know anything!”

“Believe me or not, a standard Golden Core technique usually caps around 100,000. And this Profound Origin Sword Art carries a crippling psychological defect! Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t even fetch 90,000!”

The chatter of the low-level cultivators naturally didn’t reach the ears of the Foundation Establishment patriarchs. The three remaining syndicates were locked in a death struggle. Because they were splitting the cost among multiple families, the individual burden wasn’t actually that severe. This pooled capital was exactly why the price had inflated to such an absurd degree. If Wang Hao had banned syndicate bidding, the manual likely would have stalled out exactly where the old man predicted.

The final rounds of bidding were agonizingly slow, crawling upward in painful increments of 2,000.

Finally, the hammer fell.

The bearded cultivator—representing a powerful, multi-clan syndicate—secured the Profound Origin Sword Art for a staggering 142,000 Spirit Stones. The man had barked loudly at the start because he had an entire pack backing him up.

Wang Hao stood on the platform, rapidly running the numbers in his head. The total turnover for the high-tier auction approached 400,000 Low Grade Spirit Stones. After deducting the payouts for the consigned items, the Wang family was looking at a net revenue of roughly 350,000. Factoring in the expected sales from tomorrow’s Qi Condensation auction, their total haul would easily eclipse 500,000.

Combining this windfall with their existing treasury—and excluding the steady, passive income from the Guiran Sect mines—the Wang clan now possessed over 1,000,000 Spirit Stones in liquid capital.

They were rich.

Purchasing a Middle Grade, third-rank grand formation for their overseas base would cost roughly 300,000. The initial infrastructure development on Giant Turtle Island would demand at least another 400,000. That meant the clan could fully fund their overseas expansion and still retain 300,000 stones to maintain their local operations and continue expanding their spirit mountains.

“Fellow Daoists!” Wang Hao’s voice boomed, pulling the crowd’s attention back to the stage. “The high-tier auction concludes here! However, I urge you not to leave in haste. Rest in Qingniu Market tonight. Tomorrow morning, we will host the low-tier auction for Qi Condensation cultivators. We have an incredible selection of goods, including first-rank, High Grade combat puppets! You will not want to miss it!”

Despite Wang Hao’s urging, the moment the final gavel struck, a palpable urgency gripped the room. Dozens of cultivators practically sprinted for the exits.

The syndicate that won the Profound Origin Sword Art was the fastest. They rushed through the transaction, hastily copied the jade slip for each member, and immediately scattered, each fleeing Qingniu Market in a completely different direction to divide any potential pursuers.

And pursuers there were. Within moments of their departure, several distinct groups of cultivators slipped out of the market, melting into the surrounding wilderness like shadows. If anyone tried to claim these trailing groups didn’t harbor murderous intent, Wang Hao would have laughed in their face.

Aside from the local vassals who lived nearby, almost no one holding a valuable purchase dared to linger in the market.

Yes, staying in Qingniu Market under the watchful eye of the Golden Core cultivator, Wang Guang’an, guaranteed their immediate safety. But they couldn’t live in the market forever. Eventually, they had to transport their treasures back to their home territories. Every extra day they stayed was another day for a predator to mark their scent, gather a crew, and plan an ambush. The longer they waited, the more dangerous the journey became.

Their best chance of survival was to flee immediately, using the chaos of the mass exodus to slip away unnoticed. It was a terrifying lottery of survival.

Almost instantly, the atmosphere in the wilderness surrounding Qingniu Market turned highly volatile. If two unfamiliar cultivators crossed paths on a dirt road, a single misplaced glance or twitch of the hand could trigger a desperate escape or a brutal, fight-to-the-death encounter. Paranoia ruled the woods.

This chaos was entirely beyond the Wang family’s ability to police. They could only draw a hard line: absolute prohibition of combat within a one-hundred-mile radius of the market center. Anyone caught Killing to seize treasures within that zone would face the full, annihilating wrath of the Wang clan.

It was a matter of branding. If the roads leading to Qingniu Market became known as a slaughterhouse, it would destroy their reputation.

With great power came great responsibility. If the Wang family couldn’t guarantee basic, safe passage in and out of their own territory, outsiders would view them as weak and incompetent. If that happened, the fragile trust they had just built would evaporate.

The Leizhou Peninsula was vast, and Rogue Cultivators had plenty of other markets to choose from. If the death toll rose too high, foot traffic would dry up, Wang Hao’s grand economic vision would collapse, and the clan’s newly established revenue streams would wither and die.