Chapter Five: The Auction—And the Draw Lands on You

Zhang Baole conducted himself as though he were holding his own exclusive press conference, speaking with confidence and flair.

"Let's begin..." More than ten minutes had passed and still Zhang Baole had not entered. Li Xiaobo finally reached his limit and stood up abruptly, his patience exhausted. He was on the verge of calling off the auction entirely, deciding he might as well accept one of the offers from the pharmaceutical conglomerates that had approached him earlier.

If not for his commitment to supporting his own cultivation, his research in alchemy, and the development of the Xiaobo Foundation Pill, he would never have agreed to sell it, even with his family mired in difficulty. In his mind, the Xiaobo Foundation Pill was only the beginning and had yet to achieve his true goal.

"Please don’t worry, don’t worry. We’ll begin—the auction will start immediately..." The auctioneer hurried to placate Li Xiaobo, though inwardly he was cursing Zhang Baole as well. But what could he do?

"Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is about to begin..." The auctioneer promptly took the stage, skillfully regaining control of the proceedings. Before stepping up, he had already directed his colleagues to allow the press in and to appease Zhang Baole’s party.

"It’s a damn private auction and you act like you’re dying of impatience. I know you, aren’t you from Wanhe Auction House in the provincial capital—what was your name again..." Despite the auctioneer’s efforts to handle everything with care, Zhang Baole, upon entering, berated him with open disdain.

Unlike Li Xiaobo, the auctioneer hardly cared about such remarks. If he could absorb everyone’s dissatisfaction himself and let the auction proceed smoothly, so be it.

"President Zhang, you are a busy man. I’m Zhang Heng from Wanhe, we’re practically family," the auctioneer replied with a forced smile.

"Family? You’re hardly worthy of the name Zhang..." Zhang Baole sneered, then swaggered to the front row, gesturing at Zhang Heng with the hand holding his cigar. "Aren’t we starting? Hurry up. I still have important clients to meet afterward—don’t imagine I came here in person for this trivial matter."

Bang! At the back, Li Xiaobo trembled with fury, nearly storming out. But the auction had begun, and he was no fool. These pharmaceutical company executives wielded immense wealth and power—he couldn’t afford to offend them. In fact, not selling the Xiaobo Foundation Pill exclusively to one party was his way of avoiding trouble.

Still, Zhang Baole’s contempt ignited a fire within him. He wanted to shout that he would never cooperate with Lin Pharmaceutical Group and that they should leave immediately. Yet he knew such an outburst could bring calamity upon himself and his family.

Zhang Baole was, after all, the very person who had previously tried every trick to force him to sell the Xiaobo Foundation Pill at a rock-bottom price.

He was well aware of Zhang Baole’s notorious reputation. In the provincial capital, he was a powerful figure—though a vice president, even the general managers reportedly dared not cross him. Had he not been disciplined for a past mistake, he might already be the city’s general manager.

In the rear, Lin Qingyun rubbed his hands together quietly. Having lived two lives, even though he dealt with Zhang Baole in his past life and knew of his deeds, seeing him in action again made him itch to deal with him personally.

No wonder in his previous life, after Li Xiaobo joined Ivy Pharmaceutical Group, all his research targeted Lin Pharmaceutical Group. He’d once thought Ivy assigned him those tasks, but now it was clear—this was all Zhang Baole’s doing.

A scoundrel was a scoundrel. Fortunately, this time he could prevent it all and rid the world of this villain sooner.

Meanwhile, Zhang Heng ignored Baole’s bluster, offered a brief introduction, and began the auction.

"Starting bid: three million. Each increase not less than one hundred thousand. All rights to the Xiaobo Foundation Pill are now up for auction."

"Three and a half million!" As soon as Zhang Heng finished, the bidding began.

"Five million!"

"Eight million!"

Without Zhang Baole even opening his mouth, several bidders quickly drove the price upward.

Although other local pharmaceutical groups and provincial powers couldn’t match Ivy or Lin in scale, they each had their ambitions. Ivy and Lin already had their own foundation pill brands—sometimes more than one—and might not fight tooth and nail for just one more. For the local powers, though, a basic pill like this was crucial, and they wanted a chance to compete with the provincial giants.

The price soared, quickly exceeding fifty million before finally slowing.

It’s important to note that the purchasing power of the national currency was nothing like a century ago. After the rise of cultivation in China and several reforms, its value had multiplied many times over. These days, an ordinary city dweller earning just over ten thousand a month could support a family of five comfortably, comparable to earning sixty or seventy thousand a month a century earlier. In smaller cities, a three-thousand-yuan salary let a family of three live well. Of course, that was for the average person; cultivators were another matter.

"Petty. Sixty million," Zhang Baole exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke and raised the bid by ten million at once.

His bid made the dozen or so other bidders hesitate.

"Sixty-one million..." Some remained undeterred and continued bidding.

"Seventy million..." Before anyone else could speak, Zhang Baole raised it again.

This time, the shock was real. If the bids had risen slowly, the smaller players might have managed it, even banding together for a higher bid. But a bidding war between the two pharmaceutical giants kept everyone else at bay.

At that moment, Springwater also smiled and calmly raised his paddle.

"Eighty million..."

"Damn it, ninety million," Zhang Baole cursed, bidding again.

"One hundred million." In just a few exchanges, the price had reached one hundred million.

The remaining local bidders immediately gave up. The pill could only be crafted by an alchemist for now and wasn’t mass-producible. Whether it could be improved was uncertain, and investing in slow, manual production was beyond what most could accept.

Even Zhang Baole stopped bidding, glaring at Springwater in evident displeasure.

"It seems President Quan is truly the decision-maker here. His authority surpasses mine. As a vice president, I’d need special approval for anything over a hundred million. For this worthless formula, Springwater is really willing to bleed." Zhang Baole, clearly unwilling, made it clear he was finished.

"One hundred million, first call... Is there a higher bid?" Zhang Heng was visibly excited. Even a hundred million was significant—nine digits meant something extraordinary.

"Although the Xiaobo Foundation Pill currently requires an alchemist, Master Li Xiaobo is still developing supporting medications. These can help buyers experience the Heart Tribulation early. If the price is high enough, our genius alchemist might dedicate more time to further development..." Zhang Heng, using the information he’d gathered, tried to stir the crowd to bid higher.

But the audience was full of experts in medicine and alchemy. Even if they weren’t alchemists themselves, they knew the field well.

Simulating the Heart Tribulation with drugs was nothing new, and most such products weren’t that valuable. Most foundation pills aimed to suppress, calm, and focus the mind.

Still, Zhang Heng deliberately stretched things out. As he spoke, Springwater, sitting poised and urbane up front, flashed a dangerous glint in his eyes, though he quickly hid it.

"One hundred million, second call..." After Zhang Heng’s pitch, he saw that the remaining bidders were whispering among themselves and making calls, but no one raised the bid.

As he called the second time, his gaze settled on Zhang Baole. If anyone could still challenge Ivy’s bid, it would be Lin Pharmaceutical Group.

"Why are you looking at me? I’m just a vice president—I don’t have authority for anything over a hundred million. And for this trash formula? Only a fool would pay that much. Lin has four foundation pills already; one more or less makes no difference..." Seeing Zhang Heng’s gaze, Zhang Baole glared and complained loudly.

At the back, Li Xiaobo’s hands shook, fists clenched. This was his first independently improved pill recipe, embodying his dreams and efforts, and yet he’d had to endure such insults time and again...

"One hundred million..." Ignoring Zhang Baole, Zhang Heng saw no more competition, so he raised his gavel, ready to close the lot.

"One hundred million and ten thousand." Suddenly, a voice called from the back.

It was Lin Qingyun, who had been watching coldly from the rear. His bid instantly drew everyone’s attention—every head turned.

Zhang Heng, about to bring down the hammer, jerked his head up to look at him.

Click, click—the media and reporters instantly turned all their cameras on Lin Qingyun.

"Hmm?" Springwater frowned. The young man looked familiar, but he couldn’t recall from where—though it nagged at him.

"Which pharmaceutical group is he from?"

"I’ve never heard of him. Do any of you know him?"

There was a buzz of speculation in the back rows, but Zhang Baole, recognizing Lin Qingyun, shot to his feet.

"Damn..." Zhang Baole’s eye twitched violently. He’d been searching for Lin Qingyun lately. Others might not recognize him, but Baole knew him well.

By rights, Lin Qingyun should call him uncle.

"One hundred million... Excuse me, sir, which pharmaceutical group are you with? Did you register?" Zhang Heng was about to shout with excitement, but his professionalism surfaced—he sensed something was off and politely inquired.

"What are you doing here, kid? Who told you to bid recklessly? Come with me, now!" At that moment, Zhang Baole, cursing inwardly, hurried over to drag Lin Qingyun away, feigning urgency.

He’d been making trips back and forth to Haicheng recently, and though they were still searching for Lin Qingyun, after the incident at Ruins No. 18 with the Fire Flood Dragon, he’d assumed the boy had perished. His sister had found it suspicious that Lin Qingyun hadn’t appeared, but Baole was convinced the boy had snuck into the ruins himself. He kept searching, but he was already planning for a good life once his sister and brother-in-law took over Lin Pharmaceutical.

Lin’s... Lin Qingyun...

As soon as Baole blurted this out, Springwater and many others remembered. Though Lin Pharmaceutical had been searching quietly, word had spread that Lin Qingyun likely entered Ruins No. 18.

Smack! As Zhang Baole reached out to drag him away, Lin Qingyun answered with a resounding slap.

Baole’s rotund body was sent flying, crashing heavily into a nearby empty chair—testimony to the force behind that blow.