540: Chapter 540 You all think I'm a sucker? Then I'll make sure you lose everything!

Private Room Number Seven was pitch black.

The lights were out, and the curtains were tightly closed.

The light here was distorted and swallowed by an invisible force.

Several figures sat silently within; their mere presence made the space as thick as a swamp.

Han Rui sat cross-legged.

The five True Immortals behind him were like five silent stone statues—no breathing, no heartbeat.

Six streams of Killing Intent intertwined, condensing into substance, causing even the dust in the box to stop floating.

Lin Wan sat on a low stool in the corner.

Several days of Zhao Qingyi's tireless healing had restored half of her face to a lustrous white.

The other half, however, remained charred black like coal.

A black veil covered her face, revealing only a sweet dimple on one side.

Half peerless beauty, half charcoal.

Human and ghost eerily merged into one in her.

Zhang Ningshuang and Zhao Qingyi stood behind her, their breathing stilled, not daring to make a sound.

"The target has entered Box Number One."

Han Rui's eyes were closed, but his Divine Thought had already enveloped the entire venue; his voice was devoid of ripples.

"Four people: the Youth in White Robes, a Man in Black carrying a sword, a fat man, and a Little Girl with an upward braid."

He paused, a hint of judgmental contempt leaking into his tone.

"Box Number One... he actually dares to sit there."

Lin Wan's gaze pierced through the gap in the curtains, locking onto the brilliant lights of the opposite box.

She couldn't see that face clearly.

But the outline and expression of that face had long been branded into her Divine Soul, burning day and night.

"Wait for him to bid."

Her voice seeped out from under the black veil, raspy and soft, with a hiss like a venomous tongue.

"As long as he dares to quote a price, you follow."

"In every round, let him taste the sweetness of victory, then make him wager more for that sweetness."

Han Rui's brow furrowed slightly.

"You've already repeated this."

"Then I shall say it once more."

Lin Wan's tone had no ups or downs, as if she were stating a predetermined destiny.

"Because this is very important."

She slowly turned her head to look at Han Rui, the corners of her lips under the black veil curling into a nearly pious arc.

"I want him to lose his entire fortune, exhaust his last Immortal Stone, and obtain that immortal body marrow core in a state of ecstasy."

"I want him to think he is the chosen one and walk out of Peng City satisfied."

"And then—"

She said no more.

The rest required no words.

A flash of cruel pleasure crossed Han Rui's eyes as he nodded slightly.

Six True Immortals surrounding and killing a Lower Realm ant in the Great Saint Realm in the wilderness outside the city.

This wasn't an assassination.

It was an execution.

...

The auction hall was bustling with people, the noisy waves of sound almost lifting the dome.

No one knew that several butcher knives about to drink blood were hidden in Private Room Number Seven.

Even less did anyone know that in a secret room on the top floor, a cunning fox had already laid out an inescapable net.

Su Chen rubbed his eyes and lazily scanned the floor below.

His gaze seemed to drift casually, yet among the thousands of seats, it landed precisely on three points.

In the third row on the east side, a burly man wearing a conical hat had shoulder muscles tensed like two rocks; he was overacting, his whole body screaming "I have a mission."

Next to the aisle on the west side, a tall, thin man wrapped in a gray robe had Divine Thought swinging like a pendulum, scanning Box Number One every three breaths with ridiculous precision.

In the corner of the last row, a hunched old man fingering prayer beads was using immortal essence fluctuations to tap out a "three long, two short" signal, as if afraid others wouldn't see.

Three people.

Three shills.

Su Chen's internal monologue instantly flooded the screen.

[Tsk tsk, the professional level of this Lingbao Trading Firm is concerning.]

[Can't they find some professional shills? One looks like a death warrior going to an execution ground, one looks like a worker afraid of being late, and another is using immortal essence to tap Morse code—he might as well just use a megaphone to shout "I'm a shill, come look at me."]

[Crossfire, three-point lock, trying to roast me on a spit? Good idea, don't think about it next time.]

He withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes again, looking drowsy.

Qian Duoduo was sweating profusely beside him, feeling a tightness in his chest.

"Boss, it's about to start, it's about to start! Won't you look at the catalog? I heard there are several grand finale treasures today!"

"What's the rush?"

Su Chen's voice was lazy to the bone, but the corners of his mouth slowly curled into a playful arc.

"The actors are in place, and the lights are set."

He closed his eyes again and whistled lightheartedly in his mind.

[Since you all love acting so much and even wrote the script for me.]

[Then I won't be polite. I'll be the director and see... who this play is ultimately for.]