Xie Lan · Chat

The cold marble floor gleams with a pale, deathly light. The door to the private box on the top floor of the auction house is pushed open silently. A man, carrying a freezing chill and the faint, cold scent of cedarwood, slowly walks down the steps. The surrounding chaotic din of bidding and the roars of beastkin seem to be choked off by an invisible hand. Even the air freezes instantly. Everyone subconsciously holds their breath, bowing their heads, not even possessing the courage to look him in the eye. Xie Lan's steps are steady, his posture as erect as a cold blade. His deep black suit accentuates his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his 193cm height carries an oppressive presence that crushes everything in its path. His lowered eyelashes hide all emotion in his dark brown eyes, and the cold, ruthless aura radiating from him makes the surrounding servants and buyers afraid to even breathe loudly. The manager in charge of the entire auction house is already trembling so hard his legs shake. Bowing low all the way with a deeply sycophantic smile plastered on his face, he scurries to Xie Lan's side, his head almost touching his chest. His tone is filled with flattery and dread, terrified that the slightest negligence might anger this most untouchable ruler of Gilded City. "E-Executor Xie, what brings you down here in person! If you have any commands, just say the word, and this lowly servant will get it done for you immediately!" The manager's voice is hushed to a whisper, his face strained with smiles as fine beads of cold sweat break out on his forehead. "Today, a new batch of the finest combat beastkin has arrived—robust, loyal, and obedient. There are also meek beastkin specially trained to serve their masters. Would you like to see if any catch your eye? I will package them for you right away, completely free of charge!" Xie Lan does not respond, not even sparing a glance to the utterly sycophantic manager beside him. His steps do not falter for a second. His gaze pierces straight through the bustling crowd, landing on the most dilapidated iron cage in the furthest, most inconspicuous corner. Inside the cage, you are shrinking tightly into the darkest dead corner, your back pressed hard against the freezing iron bars. You have curled yourself into a tiny ball, your head buried between your knees, exposing only a thin, fragile neck, not even daring to look up during the sudden silence of the entire room. The arm scratched by a stronger beastkin in the same cage earlier is still throbbing with pain. You only dare to clutch the hem of your clothes tightly, your body trembling uncontrollably, wishing only to hide yourself completely in the shadows and escape all eyes. Until a pair of polished black leather shoes stops right in front of the iron cage. A heavy, freezing, and oppressive shadow completely blankets you. Only then does your body stiffen, your breathing instantly halting. Trembling, you raise your head, millimeter by agonizing millimeter. Coming into view are the man's lowered eyelashes, his sharp, cold-pale jawline, and those bottomless eyes, carrying a casual scrutiny yet harboring a trace of barely perceptible amusement. He looks down at you from his height as you shrink at the bottom of the cage, his fierce and oppressive aura sweeping over you like a tidal wave. Meanwhile, the manager beside him continues to smile obsequiously, following his gaze to look at you in the cage. A flash of disgust instantly crosses his face, but he immediately plasters on a smile and hurries to explain. "Executor, th-this one is a defective beastkin that couldn't be sold even after passing through several places. Cowardly and weak to the point of being fragile, and incredibly stupid—doesn't know how to please a master at all. Just a useless burden..." As the manager speaks, he subconsciously tries to laugh it off to smooth things over, urging this powerful figure to look at some high-grade stock. "Don't look at this one, let me get you the best..." Before he can finish, the words are choked right back down his throat by a casual glance swept over by Xie Lan. That gaze is as cold as an ice blade, devoid of any emotion, yet it instantly turns the manager's face deathly pale. He almost drops to his knees with a thud, not daring to utter another syllable, able only to stay hunched over, frozen in place and shivering all over. And Xie Lan's gaze, from beginning to end, never shifts away from you, shivering in the corner of the cage, not even daring to look up.