At the entrance of Favna Trading House, a steward from Chris Guild held two tickets and respectfully presented them forward.

“Guild Master, Master Spirit Glyphsmith—we’ve secured the auction tickets.”

“Good. Well done.”

Chris accepted the tickets and turned to the young man beside him.

The youth had long silver-gray hair: neatly trimmed at the front, tied back loosely behind. He wore an unusually loose robe, faintly scented, a fan resting in his hand, his expression carrying a trace of serene detachment.

Chris’s spine stiffened slightly with awkwardness. Put kindly, the man was refined and artistic; bluntly, eccentrically reserved.

But who could fault him? He was a Stellar Rank Spirit Glyphsmith—crafting Stellar-grade Spirit Cards with speed, precision, and astonishing success rates. He had to be treated with care.

“My friend, after you.”

Chris stepped aside, palm open in invitation. His tone carried the warmth of an old friend reunited—intimate, yet respectful.

The Spirit Glyphsmith stepped forward slowly and murmured a quiet, indifferent “Thank you.”

Chris hurried to follow. Once inside Favna Trading House, they strode directly down a corridor.

At its end hung a wide curtain guarded by a staff member. Catching sight of Chris, the attendant froze for a moment, visibly tense.

“This is Favna Trading House’s auction hall. Unauthorized personnel are not permitted!”

Chris offered a smile devoid of warmth and handed over the tickets.

“Are my friend and I not allowed to patronize this place? Would you dare turn away guests?”

Helpless, the staff member accepted the tickets and began verifying the day’s glyph password.

After confirmation, he returned them and couldn’t help but ask again, “What exactly are you here for? If you cause trouble…”

“Cause trouble? We’re guests. What else would we do—watch the auction? Grope your guild master’s thigh? Hmph.”

The attendant’s eyes widened in fury. Unfazed, Chris swept the curtain aside and gestured once more for the Spirit Glyphsmith to proceed.

The Glyphsmith slightly furrowed his brow, glanced at Chris, and said nothing.

No sooner had they entered than the staff member sprinted to the guild master’s office and knocked urgently.

“Come in.”

A young woman sat at her desk, silver hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. Worry shadowed her delicate features. Beneath her low-slit gown, porcelain-white calves peeked faintly.

“Guild Master Favna—Chris just entered the auction hall with an unknown person!”

Favna’s expression flickered with anger, then softened into a sigh as she lowered her head.

Chris Guild, backed by a Stellar Rank Spirit Glyphsmith, had already squeezed out rivals and stolen clients. Now they’d brazenly step into *her* auction hall?

This was deliberate humiliation.

But what could she do? They sold fresh Stellar-grade Spirit Cards. Her house was lucky to acquire one or two used ones a month.

“Guild Master?”

Favna took a deep breath, steadying her voice. “What else?”

“Only Chris and that stranger came. Should we… take advantage?” The attendant clenched a fist meaningfully.

Favna shook her head and rose. “We are not bandits. Not assassins. Never speak of this again. I’ll observe the auction from backstage. That’s all.”

The attendant bowed and left. Favna hurried toward the hall.

The auction was already underway. A young hostess presented items one by one.

From the audience seats, Chris let out occasional disdainful snorts.

“One craft item after another. Finally, Spirit Cards—but useless beginner-grade ones. Even *I* can’t bear it. Should’ve brought a set of *Magical Girl Monkey Burn* to liven things up for her.”

At the title, the Spirit Glyphsmith turned sharply toward Chris—but said nothing.

Only when the hostess unveiled a Stellar-grade card did Chris grow slightly serious.

As she demonstrated its power onstage, he leaned close and murmured, “How is this one?”

“Average. I could craft a better one in a day—half a day with luck.”

The Glyphsmith’s effortless confidence eased Chris’s tension into a relieved smile.

Then, fingers tightening around his fan, he added quietly, “Guild Master Chris, I know you aim to monopolize the town’s commerce. I’ll support you fully—but do not forget your promise.”

Chris nodded perfunctorily, irritation flickering.

“I know—it’s just Old Xu. My people are searching. You craft Stellar-grade cards, often hitting 1-star or 2-star quality. How *that* important can he be?”

The Glyphsmith’s expression chilled. He turned, gaze earnest.

“Guild Master Chris—please show respect. His greatness isn’t measured in value. Frankly, you don’t grasp his power. To become his disciple… I’d give up everything.”

Chris stayed silent, inwardly scoffing.

Just then, the hostess reached the final item—flustered, hesitant.

“The last item is a beginner-grade Weapon Spirit Card… not yet fully appraised. Let’s test it live.”

Chris let out a snort of laughter. “*Another* beginner-grade? Unappraised? Must be last-minute filler. How pitiful to work here—I’m almost moved to tears. Haha…”