Dual Cultivation System: The Villainous Servant’s Rise

Chapter 265: Are Kings and Nobles Destined by Blood? A Gathering of Old Enemies

Once inside the Chen Family auction house, the air itself seemed to grow heavier with the weight of concentrated wealth. However, even within these gilded walls, the hierarchy was absolute, divided into three distinct strata of power.

The first floor was a chaotic bazaar of common spiritual goods, teeming with Foundation Establishment and Golden Core cultivators. It was a place of frantic bartering and high-rent stalls. The second floor was far more refined—a treasury catering to Nascent Soul experts, where Heaven-grade Dharma Treasures and top-tier cultivation manuals changed hands for staggering sums.

But Han Lie’s party had no interest in the lower floors. Their eyes were fixed on the third tier—the apex of the auction house.

To even set foot on the stairs leading to the third floor, one had to be either obscenely wealthy, a high-ranking noble, or a powerhouse at the late Soul Formation stage or above. As Han Lie, Ye Qingxuan, and Qin Yusheng reached the entrance, they were intercepted by a group of Chen Family attendants.

“Hold, esteemed guests,” a receptionist said. She was stunningly beautiful, but her eyes held a practiced, professional coldness. “Today’s proceedings on this level are strictly private. Only those bearing an official Chen Family invitation may pass. Please present your credentials.”

Han Lie raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. Invitations? He had expected a test of cultivation or a wealth audit, but this was different. If they had invitations, why hadn’t the Chen Family provided a proper welcoming committee? No guest rooms, no formal greeting—just a cold ‘show me your papers’ at the door. It was a blatant slight. To a ‘Core Tier’ power like the Chen Family, everyone else—even the rulers of dynasties and great sects from the periphery—were merely well-to-do peasants.

So this is the weight of a pedigree, Han Lie thought, his internal monologue darkening. Even among those who can shatter mountains, the old lies persist. Are kings and nobles destined by blood? It seems the Chen Family certainly thinks so.

Ye Qingxuan and Qin Yusheng, far more accustomed to the snobbery of the Central Plains, didn’t bat an eye. They calmly produced their gold-leafed invitations.

The receptionist’s demeanor shifted instantly. Her coldness melted into a shallow, respectful bow as she waved them through. “My apologies. Please, esteemed guests of the Heavenly Void Sect and the Great Qin Dynasty, enter.”

They stepped past a heavy silken screen into the main hall. It was a cathedral of opulence, dripping with gold and white jade. The seating was arranged in private, two-person units, spaced widely apart to ensure the privacy of the continent’s elite.

The hall was already half-full. Ye Qingxuan’s eyes swept across the front rows, her expression shifting into a mask of regal disdain. “Heh. It seems This Palace has spotted some familiar filth.”

“Where?” Han Lie followed her gaze.

There, seated prominently in the front row, were Old Ghost Yin Mei and the Holy Son, Zhao Batian.

Han Lie almost laughed aloud. Look at them. Ready to lose their shirts again. Seeing his old enemies in such a high-stakes environment brought a cynical warmth to his chest. Every time these two tried to scheme against him or Ye Qingxuan, they ended up humiliated. Today would likely be no different.

“Sect Leader Ye, Little Friend Han Lie,” Qin Yusheng whispered, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Who are those two?”

“The leader and the golden boy of a rival sect,” Han Lie replied, his tone clipped and indifferent. “They’ve made a habit of suffering at our hands.”

Qin Yusheng stroked his beard, a sharp light gleaming in his dragon-like eyes. “I see.”

The party moved to the back, finding two adjacent VIP units. The tables were laden with spirit teas, rare fruits, and vintage wines—each worth a fortune in the Southern Domain, but here, they were treated as mere garnishes. Han Lie, never one to let resources go to waste, immediately poured a cup of tea for Ye Qingxuan and began unceremoniously devouring the spirit fruits while they waited for the opening bell.

Just as he was reaching for a particularly succulent pear, a cloying, pungent fragrance drifted over him. He looked up, and his mood soured instantly.

Lin Jiaomei stood behind them, her fire-red dress practically painted onto her skin. She waved a hand, her eyes locked on Han Lie with predatory intent. “Well, well, Little Pretty Boy. What a coincidence. Have you forgotten your Big Sister so soon?”

Han Lie didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. He turned back to his snacks, his jaw set. Ye Qingxuan remained perfectly still, her eyes closed in meditation, acting as if the woman were nothing more than a buzzing insect. She knew how the game was played. A trashy creature like Lin Jiaomei thrived on attention. Ignore her, and she would eventually starve.

It worked, mostly. Lin Jiaomei huffed, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she sat in the unit directly next to them. Throughout the wait, she continued to throw shameless, lingering glances at Han Lie, her tongue occasionally darting out to wet her lips. Han Lie simply looked the other way. He had no interest in a well-traveled highway.

By noon, the hall was packed. Over 100 major powers—sects, merchant kings, and ancient clans—were represented. The air was thick with the weight of hundreds of millions of spirit stones and the suppressed auras of the continent’s most dangerous people.

The lights dimmed.

A woman in a form-fitting plum blossom cheongsam stepped onto the central stage. Her grace was impeccable, her smile a masterwork of professional charm.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to the Ancient Desolate Heaven and the Chen Family Auction,” she announced, her voice amplified by Qi to reach every corner of the hall. “I am your auctioneer, Mei Lingling.”

She scanned the crowd, her smile widening. “I look around and see names that make the earth tremble. I will not waste your time with idle flattery.”

She struck a small jade gavel against a crystalline block.

“Let the auction begin.”