What came next were the scraps.
A talisman.
A pill.
A weapon.
Each one introduced with a flat tone, a price, and the same tired rhythm. Nothing grand. Nothing legendary. Just things that people like them could afford… if they were desperate enough.
"Starting bid: one hundred spiritual stones."
"One twenty."
"One forty."
Voices kept rising—quiet, tense. Calculated.
They weren't trying to impress anymore. They were trying to win. Just enough to gain an edge. Just enough to survive the next stage.
A pill.
"One eighty."
"Two hundred."
"Two twenty."
No one stood. No one raised their hands dramatically. Every bid came like a blade to the throat—tight, efficient, dangerous.
Another weapon.
A talisman.
A pill.
"Two fifty."
"Three hundred."
They were still Rank 1s, every last one of them. No matter how fancy their robes looked or how calm their faces appeared, they were all clawing through the same narrow path, all pretending they weren't out of breath.
Even the ones who hadn't bid looked tense.
Because every time someone else won something, the room shifted.
Every time someone walked out a little stronger, a little more prepared, someone else was left behind.
In one of the private rooms tucked along the upper levels, Yanwei was snoring.
He didn't mean to. But he wasn't pretending either.
One leg stretched out on the lounge seat, the other lazily propped against the table's edge, his arms were crossed like he'd simply leaned back for a second… and forgot to care.
Across from him, the attendant sent to assist him—an elegant woman in plum robes—eyed him with a mixture of confusion and restraint.
This guy is really weird, she thought.
He hadn't asked for anything. Not tea, not refreshments, not even the usual updates about bids. He hadn't looked through the items listed in the booklet. He hadn't even asked when his item would appear.
All he said, with a faint yawn and barely opened eyes, was—
"Wake me when that thing comes."
And she was pretty sure the next item was what he meant.
The woman shifted in her seat, straightening her posture. She leaned forward and gave him a light nudge.
"Sir," she said politely. "The item you want is about to come. Just after the next one."
Yanwei didn't move.
Down below, the auction was still crawling.
"Four hundred spiritual stones," the auctioneer announced, her voice rising faintly with the pace of the bid.
"Four twenty," someone else called, sharp and fast.
"Four fifty."
A pause. Then—
"Four eighty."
The air tightened. No cheers, no jeers. Just a crowd trying not to flinch.
Then—
"Five hundred."
"Sold."
A soft clap rippled through the crowd. Someone got lucky. Someone else got edged out.
Back in the room, Yanwei finally stirred.
His head tilted slightly, brows scrunching as he cracked one eye open.
"This shit is so boring," he muttered, voice low and gravelly from sleep. "The quality isn't low, yet it's still full of crap."
He sat up slowly, stretching his arms until his joints gave a muted pop.
The auctioneer's voice lifted, cutting through the haze of monotony like a spark catching dry kindling.
"A lot of you are definitely looking forward to getting your hands on this!"
She turned her head slightly, eyes glinting with showmanship as she motioned to the elderly man standing by the tray.
"Sir, tell them what this is."
The old man gave a small nod and stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the silent room. With a slow hand, he gestured toward the three medium-sized stones resting on the display.
Each looked unremarkable at first glance—dull in color, roughly cut. But the moment the light hit their surfaces, faint traces of elemental patterns shimmered across the stone—like wind-blown trails, scorched sigils, or pressure-carved veins.
"These," the old man began, "are stones naturally etched by elemental exposure—Galeshard, Cinderrock, and Dustroot, respectively aligned to wind, fire, and earth."
He let the names hang for a moment, giving the crowd a chance to absorb them.
"They weren't forged in any workshop. These stones are found in environments shaped by raw elemental power—torn valleys, scorched ridgelines, ancient caverns where the ground itself hums. Over time, the stones absorb fragments of those forces, leaving behind imprints—marks that can't be replicated artificially."
He raised a finger.
"Now, there are artificial imitations out there—stones force-fed elemental qi in a lab or workshop. But the effect is never the same. What you see here is the real kind. Wild. Unstable, yes. But potent."
The crowd leaned in, the mood beginning to shift.
"These stones are rarely used for direct combat. They're valued because of what they enable. With proper processing, they can be used in weapon refinement, talisman inscription, or certain forms of alchemy."
The old man let his gaze linger on the crowd for a breath longer before speaking again.
"These stones aren't just for forging or crafting. Their true value lies in how they help cultivators break through—especially from Rank 1 to Rank 2."
A few leaned forward, sensing something deeper coming.
He tapped one of the stones lightly—Galeshard, the wind-aligned one. "Most of you already know the usual method: pills. But those only push qi upward. What these stones offer is different."
He let the silence hang, then continued:
"It's called elemental resonance."
A faint murmur rippled through the hall.
"Elemental resonance," he explained, "is when a cultivator harmonizes with the natural essence of a specific element. It's not just absorbing qi. It's a process of attuning your body, your spirit, and even your meridians to that elemental force. When done correctly, it doesn't just help you break through—it transforms the quality of your foundation."
He swept his hand over the tray.
"Cinderrock aligns with fire. Dustroot with earth. Galeshard with wind. Each of these stones contains traces of those forces, engraved into them by nature itself. Not force-fed like the artificial kind. The resonance you gain from them is purer. More stable. More lasting."
He looked up.
"It's harder than swallowing a pill. But the results speak for themselves. Those who succeed using elemental resonance… walk away stronger than those who took the easy path."
Another beat of silence.
"Of course, there are risks. If your body rejects the resonance, or if your control slips… you could damage your meridians instead of strengthening them. But for those willing to gamble—this is the path that many elite cultivators once walked."
He motioned back to the stones with a slight nod.
"These aren't large, but they're mid-grade in size—meaning if you don't consume them entirely, they still retain value. Sell the excess, or store it. Either way, you gain."
Then, with a faint shrug and a hint of dry humor, he added:
"Unfortunately," the old man added, "there's no Tideglass among them—so the set is incomplete."
He let that hang.
"As most of you know, true elemental resonance for breakthrough requires alignment across all four major elements. Missing one—especially water—means you'll either need to find the last on your own, or risk an unbalanced foundation."
He gave a small, knowing smile.
"Still, even incomplete, each of these holds value. For crafting, refining… or if you already have the missing piece."
He stepped back.
No more explanation was needed.
Already, tension was starting to coil again in the room.
These weren't just stones.
They were stepping stones—literally—to the next realm.