Chapter 279: Suppression!
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Chapter 279: Suppression!
Suppression! . . .
Evidently, the members of the House of the Chaotic Storm paid no heed to the onlookers. They advanced with utmost solemnity, not a single one of them casting a backward glance.
After some moments, the elderly man finally released his grip on the young man, who was left breathless and gasping for air.
"Refrain from uttering anything foolish!" The old man's voice quivered as he admonished the youth.
The surrounding crowd observed them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
[Are there really such na?ve individuals in their clan? Perhaps we should keep our distance from them...]
Although the Ling-Bao Hall's official greeting team had yet to emerge, the House of the Chaotic Storm had already entered the premises.
Clearly, they held an exalted position, receiving exceptional treatment.
Wan Zhenghao appeared at the entrance, extending a courteous bow to welcome his esteemed guests. "Please, come inside, my honorable guests..."
He had no other recourse at this point.
Initially, he had contemplated employing the greeting team as a means to buy more time for Cha Eun Xiao. However, this strategy was now untenable.
No one desired a greeting team from his establishment.
The House of the Chaotic Storm had not provided one, and thus, no one else dared to. To do so would be an audacious affront.
What if the House of the Chaotic Storm inquired, "Did you enjoy your welcome?"
There would be no suitable reply to that inquiry; it would be a question tainted with the stench of impending doom.
Though Wan Zhenghao had devised the greeting team as a delay tactic, he found himself unable to employ it.
The throng surged forward.
Silence pervaded, akin to students in a classroom in the presence of their teacher.
In fact, they were even quieter than students, refraining from making even the faintest sound while drawing breath.
Regret filled the minds of everyone present.
[If only I had known that the House of the Chaotic Storm would attend, I wouldn't have come... I feel so uncomfortable now...] n).o/(v./e))l/(b--1-/n
The House of the Chaotic Storm's arrival had cast a palpable chill over the atmosphere. Typically, people would exchange greetings with familiar faces at the auction, but not this time. It seemed as though everyone was eager to hasten the start of the auction.
Gradually, they all took their seats.
At this juncture, the only sounds in the room emanated from the stage where Guan Wanshan was speaking. Everyone in the audience sat in rapt attention, not uttering a word or posing any questions.
Upstairs, within Sky No. 1 Room, eight individuals in white attire occupied the left side, while eight counterparts clad in black stood on the right. Their countenances remained impassive.
A gossamer layer of silk enveloped Sky No. 1 Room, lending it an ethereal quality that seemed to separate it from the rest of the auction hall.
After a few minutes, the auction finally commenced.
Wan Zhenghao had no recourse but to allow it to proceed.
The Feng Monarch had yet to make an appearance.
Wan Zhenghao understood that he had to kickstart the auction, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment.
Due to the House of the Chaotic Storm's presence, the auction proceeded in silence, with no one daring to disrupt it. It appeared that the auction would progress smoothly.
Even the two great sects did not dare to provoke the House of the Chaotic Storm.
However, they might well dare to challenge the authority of the Ling-Bao Hall.
What if the two sects failed to attain their desires and turned their wrath toward Ling-Bao Hall? It was a question that weighed heavily on Wan Zhenghao's mind.
The House of the Chaotic Storm wasn't Ling-Bao Hall's official guardian, but in reality, Ling-Bao Hall already owed House of the Chaotic Storm a considerable favor for their current assistance.
Sitting in his room, Wan Zhenghao couldn't help but sense the piercing gazes emanating from the other two rooms. They sent shivers down his spine. It wasn't mere imagination; he genuinely felt the weight of those stares.
He wasn't mistaken. In the two adjacent rooms, members of the two great sects fixed their eyes on Wan Zhenghao, fully aware that he could sense their scrutiny. Their intent was clear – to make Wan Zhenghao feel subjugated.
For anyone in the Land of Han-Yang, the dominance of the two great sects was an overpowering force, except for the House of the Chaotic Storm.
Even Wan Zhenghao found it difficult to withstand this pressure. Despite amassing substantial wealth, his personal influence was limited. By choosing to stand out, he had willingly subjected himself to the suppression of all these formidable factions.
As the two great sects anticipated, Wan Zhenghao was undeniably nervous.
In a corner, Liu Changjun stood with an icy countenance. His gaze was also trained on Wan Zhenghao, observing the perspiration trickling down his cheeks.
Liu Changjun's eyes exuded an unrelenting coldness. Suddenly, his hand subtly moved toward his sword, causing the veins on the back of his hand to bulge. It was a coded signal meant for his subordinates. Without a word exchanged, every assassin under Liu Changjun's command felt the message conveyed by their leader. In an instant, they all gripped their weapons, and the previously serene salesroom became saturated with an ominous aura of impending violence.
Approximately two hundred assassins, positioned strategically throughout the room, exuded this threatening presence.
They resembled a pack of two hundred hungry leopards, primed to pounce at a moment's notice.
Their mandate was simple: victory meant they lived, defeat meant they died.
That was the stark reality they embraced.
The coldness in Liu Changjun's eyes deepened. He shifted his gaze away from Wan Zhenghao and directed it toward the rooms occupied by the two great sects. The latent killing intent within his eyes began to surge beyond containment.
A smoldering fire raged within him, poised to erupt at any given moment.
Liu Changjun comprehended the immense pressure bearing down on Wan Zhenghao, understanding all too well the suffocating sensation that came with it.
While Liu Changjun might be willing to berate or physically chastise Wan Zhenghao under different circumstances, he couldn't bear to witness someone else subjecting him to such duress.
In their current context, they were akin to brothers.
In the two rooms housing members of the two sects, a sardonic smile played on their lips as they felt the reversal of energy.
[So, they've finally reached their limit, have they?]
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Chapter 279: Suppression!
Suppression! . . .
Evidently, the members of the House of the Chaotic Storm paid no heed to the onlookers. They advanced with utmost solemnity, not a single one of them casting a backward glance.
After some moments, the elderly man finally released his grip on the young man, who was left breathless and gasping for air.
"Refrain from uttering anything foolish!" The old man's voice quivered as he admonished the youth.
The surrounding crowd observed them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
[Are there really such na?ve individuals in their clan? Perhaps we should keep our distance from them...]
Although the Ling-Bao Hall's official greeting team had yet to emerge, the House of the Chaotic Storm had already entered the premises.
Clearly, they held an exalted position, receiving exceptional treatment.
Wan Zhenghao appeared at the entrance, extending a courteous bow to welcome his esteemed guests. "Please, come inside, my honorable guests..."
He had no other recourse at this point.
Initially, he had contemplated employing the greeting team as a means to buy more time for Cha Eun Xiao. However, this strategy was now untenable.
No one desired a greeting team from his establishment.
The House of the Chaotic Storm had not provided one, and thus, no one else dared to. To do so would be an audacious affront.
What if the House of the Chaotic Storm inquired, "Did you enjoy your welcome?"
There would be no suitable reply to that inquiry; it would be a question tainted with the stench of impending doom.
Though Wan Zhenghao had devised the greeting team as a delay tactic, he found himself unable to employ it.
The throng surged forward.
Silence pervaded, akin to students in a classroom in the presence of their teacher.
In fact, they were even quieter than students, refraining from making even the faintest sound while drawing breath.
Regret filled the minds of everyone present.
[If only I had known that the House of the Chaotic Storm would attend, I wouldn't have come... I feel so uncomfortable now...] n).o/(v./e))l/(b--1-/n
The House of the Chaotic Storm's arrival had cast a palpable chill over the atmosphere. Typically, people would exchange greetings with familiar faces at the auction, but not this time. It seemed as though everyone was eager to hasten the start of the auction.
Gradually, they all took their seats.
At this juncture, the only sounds in the room emanated from the stage where Guan Wanshan was speaking. Everyone in the audience sat in rapt attention, not uttering a word or posing any questions.
Upstairs, within Sky No. 1 Room, eight individuals in white attire occupied the left side, while eight counterparts clad in black stood on the right. Their countenances remained impassive.
A gossamer layer of silk enveloped Sky No. 1 Room, lending it an ethereal quality that seemed to separate it from the rest of the auction hall.
After a few minutes, the auction finally commenced.
Wan Zhenghao had no recourse but to allow it to proceed.
The Feng Monarch had yet to make an appearance.
Wan Zhenghao understood that he had to kickstart the auction, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment.
Due to the House of the Chaotic Storm's presence, the auction proceeded in silence, with no one daring to disrupt it. It appeared that the auction would progress smoothly.
Even the two great sects did not dare to provoke the House of the Chaotic Storm.
However, they might well dare to challenge the authority of the Ling-Bao Hall.
What if the two sects failed to attain their desires and turned their wrath toward Ling-Bao Hall? It was a question that weighed heavily on Wan Zhenghao's mind.
The House of the Chaotic Storm wasn't Ling-Bao Hall's official guardian, but in reality, Ling-Bao Hall already owed House of the Chaotic Storm a considerable favor for their current assistance.
Sitting in his room, Wan Zhenghao couldn't help but sense the piercing gazes emanating from the other two rooms. They sent shivers down his spine. It wasn't mere imagination; he genuinely felt the weight of those stares.
He wasn't mistaken. In the two adjacent rooms, members of the two great sects fixed their eyes on Wan Zhenghao, fully aware that he could sense their scrutiny. Their intent was clear – to make Wan Zhenghao feel subjugated.
For anyone in the Land of Han-Yang, the dominance of the two great sects was an overpowering force, except for the House of the Chaotic Storm.
Even Wan Zhenghao found it difficult to withstand this pressure. Despite amassing substantial wealth, his personal influence was limited. By choosing to stand out, he had willingly subjected himself to the suppression of all these formidable factions.
As the two great sects anticipated, Wan Zhenghao was undeniably nervous.
In a corner, Liu Changjun stood with an icy countenance. His gaze was also trained on Wan Zhenghao, observing the perspiration trickling down his cheeks.
Liu Changjun's eyes exuded an unrelenting coldness. Suddenly, his hand subtly moved toward his sword, causing the veins on the back of his hand to bulge. It was a coded signal meant for his subordinates. Without a word exchanged, every assassin under Liu Changjun's command felt the message conveyed by their leader. In an instant, they all gripped their weapons, and the previously serene salesroom became saturated with an ominous aura of impending violence.
Approximately two hundred assassins, positioned strategically throughout the room, exuded this threatening presence.
They resembled a pack of two hundred hungry leopards, primed to pounce at a moment's notice.
Their mandate was simple: victory meant they lived, defeat meant they died.
That was the stark reality they embraced.
The coldness in Liu Changjun's eyes deepened. He shifted his gaze away from Wan Zhenghao and directed it toward the rooms occupied by the two great sects. The latent killing intent within his eyes began to surge beyond containment.
A smoldering fire raged within him, poised to erupt at any given moment.
Liu Changjun comprehended the immense pressure bearing down on Wan Zhenghao, understanding all too well the suffocating sensation that came with it.
While Liu Changjun might be willing to berate or physically chastise Wan Zhenghao under different circumstances, he couldn't bear to witness someone else subjecting him to such duress.
In their current context, they were akin to brothers.
In the two rooms housing members of the two sects, a sardonic smile played on their lips as they felt the reversal of energy.
[So, they've finally reached their limit, have they?]
Chapter 279: Suppression! Suppression! . . . Evidently, the members of the House of the Chaotic Storm paid no heed to the onlookers. They advanced with utmost solemnity, not a single one of them casting a backward glance. After some moments, the elderly man finally released his grip on the young man, who was left breathless and gasping for air. "Refrain from uttering anything foolish!" The old man's voice quivered as he admonished the youth. The surrounding crowd observed them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Are there really such na?ve individuals in their clan? Perhaps we should keep our distance from them... Although the Ling-Bao Hall's official greeting team had yet to emerge, the House of the Chaotic Storm had already entered the premises. Clearly, they held an exalted position, receiving exceptional treatment. Wan Zhenghao appeared at the entrance, extending a courteous bow to welcome his esteemed guests. "Please, come inside, my honorable guests..." He had no other recourse at this point. Initially, he had contemplated employing the greeting team as a means to buy more time for Cha Eun Xiao. However, this strategy was now untenable. No one desired a greeting team from his establishment. The House of the Chaotic Storm had not provided one, and thus, no one else dared to. To do so would be an audacious affront. What if the House of the Chaotic Storm inquired, "Did you enjoy your welcome?" There would be no suitable reply to that inquiry; it would be a question tainted with the stench of impending doom. Though Wan Zhenghao had devised the greeting team as a delay tactic, he found himself unable to employ it. The throng surged forward. Silence pervaded, akin to students in a classroom in the presence of their teacher. In fact, they were even quieter than students, refraining from making even the faintest sound while drawing breath. Regret filled the minds of everyone present. If only I had known that the House of the Chaotic Storm would attend, I wouldn't have come... I feel so uncomfortable now... n.o/v./el/b--1-/nThe House of the Chaotic Storm's arrival had cast a palpable chill over the atmosphere. Typically, people would exchange greetings with familiar faces at the auction, but not this time. It seemed as though everyone was eager to hasten the start of the auction. Gradually, they all took their seats. At this juncture, the only sounds in the room emanated from the stage where Guan Wanshan was speaking. Everyone in the audience sat in rapt attention, not uttering a word or posing any questions. Upstairs, within Sky No. 1 Room, eight individuals in white attire occupied the left side, while eight counterparts clad in black stood on the right. Their countenances remained impassive. A gossamer layer of silk enveloped Sky No. 1 Room, lending it an ethereal quality that seemed to separate it from the rest of the auction hall. After a few minutes, the auction finally commenced. Wan Zhenghao had no recourse but to allow it to proceed. The Feng Monarch had yet to make an appearance. Wan Zhenghao understood that he had to kickstart the auction, his anxiety mounting with each passing moment. Due to the House of the Chaotic Storm's presence, the auction proceeded in silence, with no one daring to disrupt it. It appeared that the auction would progress smoothly. Even the two great sects did not dare to provoke the House of the Chaotic Storm. However, they might well dare to challenge the authority of the Ling-Bao Hall. What if the two sects failed to attain their desires and turned their wrath toward Ling-Bao Hall? It was a question that weighed heavily on Wan Zhenghao's mind. The House of the Chaotic Storm wasn't Ling-Bao Hall's official guardian, but in reality, Ling-Bao Hall already owed House of the Chaotic Storm a considerable favor for their current assistance. Sitting in his room, Wan Zhenghao couldn't help but sense the piercing gazes emanating from the other two rooms. They sent shivers down his spine. It wasn't mere imagination; he genuinely felt the weight of those stares. He wasn't mistaken. In the two adjacent rooms, members of the two great sects fixed their eyes on Wan Zhenghao, fully aware that he could sense their scrutiny. Their intent was clear to make Wan Zhenghao feel subjugated. For anyone in the Land of Han-Yang, the dominance of the two great sects was an overpowering force, except for the House of the Chaotic Storm. Even Wan Zhenghao found it difficult to withstand this pressure. Despite amassing substantial wealth, his personal influence was limited. By choosing to stand out, he had willingly subjected himself to the suppression of all these formidable factions. As the two great sects anticipated, Wan Zhenghao was undeniably nervous. In a corner, Liu Changjun stood with an icy countenance. His gaze was also trained on Wan Zhenghao, observing the perspiration trickling down his cheeks. Liu Changjun's eyes exuded an unrelenting coldness. Suddenly, his hand subtly moved toward his sword, causing the veins on the back of his hand to bulge. It was a coded signal meant for his subordinates. Without a word exchanged, every assassin under Liu Changjun's command felt the message conveyed by their leader. In an instant, they all gripped their weapons, and the previously serene salesroom became saturated with an ominous aura of impending violence. Approximately two hundred assassins, positioned strategically throughout the room, exuded this threatening presence. They resembled a pack of two hundred hungry leopards, primed to pounce at a moment's notice. Their mandate was simple: victory meant they lived, defeat meant they died. That was the stark reality they embraced. The coldness in Liu Changjun's eyes deepened. He shifted his gaze away from Wan Zhenghao and directed it toward the rooms occupied by the two great sects. The latent killing intent within his eyes began to surge beyond containment. A smoldering fire raged within him, poised to erupt at any given moment. Liu Changjun comprehended the immense pressure bearing down on Wan Zhenghao, understanding all too well the suffocating sensation that came with it. While Liu Changjun might be willing to berate or physically chastise Wan Zhenghao under different circumstances, he couldn't bear to witness someone else subjecting him to such duress. In their current context, they were akin to brothers. In the two rooms housing members of the two sects, a sardonic smile played on their lips as they felt the reversal of energy. So, they've finally reached their limit, have they?
