A Smile Before the Blade

Seeing Julian D’Aurelius bidding so crazily, Lucas was certain that Julian must have discovered the secret within the lion Gem statue.

For a brief moment, everything around him seemed to dim—the murmurs of the crowd, the soft glow of the chandelier light, even the rhythmic tapping of the auctioneer’s hammer. All of it faded into a distant blur, leaving only one sharp, burning thought in his mind.

He knows.

His eyes turned red.

The calm facade cracked.

His breathing grew heavier.

The faint rise and fall of his chest became uneven, as if something inside him was clawing to break free. His fingers tightened around the armrest until the veins bulged beneath his skin.

The opportunity he had his eyes on, how dare you try to snatch it?

That wasn’t just greed.

It was something deeper—something raw.

A chance to ascend.

A chance to crush.

A chance to finally stand above everyone who had dared to humiliate him.

"I’ll bid one billion."

He stood up and shouted loudly.

His voice cut through the hall like a blade.

For a second, silence fell.

Not the calm kind—but the kind that comes when something breaks.

Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the auctioneer froze for a fraction of a heartbeat before recovering.

Competing with money? You think I’m scared?

The Obsidian Wing organization, its depth is beyond measure.

Just the few companies on the surface have assets starting at five hundred billion, totaling at least several trillion!

And the assets hidden beneath the surface are countless!

Lucas stood there, chest slightly heaving, his lips curled into a confident, almost feral smile.

Money?

To him, it was just a number.

Power was the real currency.

And this lion Gem statue—this Nine way cleansing exilir—was power.

The two began a frenzied bidding war, leaving everyone present stunned.

The air inside the Glass villa grew heavier with each number thrown out.

"One billion one hundred million!"

"One billion five hundred million."

"Two billion."

The numbers climbed like wildfire, each bid more reckless than the last.

People stopped pretending to sip wine.

Stopped whispering.

Stopped breathing normally.

They simply stared.

In just five minutes, they had crazily driven the price up to nearly ten billion.

It seemed to them that a billion wasn’t even a small goal, just a casual remark.

Some wealthy individuals who considered themselves rich were starting to feel a bit ashamed.

A middle-aged tycoon wiped sweat from his forehead, muttering under his breath, "This... this isn’t an auction anymore. This is madness."

Another laughed dryly. "We thought we were players. Turns out we’re just spectators."

They understood why Young Master Julian was so reckless.

The D’Aurelius Family, after all, was truly wealthy.

But who was this guy competing with Young Master Julian? What was his background?

Was it really worth going this far just to save face?

Even Yana Tyson, sitting nearby, felt her heartbeat quicken.

Her fingers curled slightly on her lap as she glanced between the two men.

Julian leaned back lazily in his seat, one arm draped over the chair as if he were watching a street performance instead of burning billions.

Lucas, on the other hand, stood upright—sharp, tense, like a drawn blade.

This... is not just about money, she thought.

This is a clash.

When the price reached ten billion, Lucas’s eyes were already red.

To him, this opportunity was too important.

But ten billion was indeed a bit too expensive.

A flicker of hesitation crossed his mind—brief, fragile.

But it was there.

"I don’t want it anymore."

Just as his eyes were turning red, Julian suddenly stopped bidding.

The words fell casually.

Light.

Almost careless.

Yet they hit harder than any shout.

Lucas froze.

For a split second, his mind went blank.

What?

"Then congratulations to this gentleman."

The little old man on stage quickly knocked the small wooden hammer in his hand, feeling ecstatic inside.

The crisp tap echoed across the hall, final and absolute.

Their auction could take a three percent commission.

This ten billion meant a net income of three hundred million!

His face flushed with excitement as he clutched the hammer, barely containing his joy.

He looked at Julian with admiration.

This young man was truly a business genius.

He took something barely worthy of being called art, put it up for auction, and easily made a fortune.

As expected of the eldest young master of the D’Aurelius Family, achieving what we couldn’t with ease!

Meanwhile—

Lucas stood there, still processing.

Then the realization hit.

Not victory.

No.

Something far worse.

I was played.

His jaw tightened.

His breathing grew sharper.

His chest rose and fell like a beast barely holding itself back.

"Trash, is that all?"

Although he successfully obtained the treasure, Lucas was extremely angry, glaring at Julian and cursing.

His voice carried across the hall, thick with fury.

This guy dared to make him waste so much money!

Ten billion.

For something he hadn’t even confirmed yet.

Even compensating with his life wouldn’t be enough!

He stand from swat walk toward Julian.

Julian didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even straighten his posture.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes calm—almost amused.

There was a faint smile on his lips.

Not mocking.

Not hostile.

Just... relaxed.

Too relaxed.

"Wow," Julian said lightly, glancing at Lucas as if noticing him for the first time. "You really bought it."

He leaned forward just a little, resting his chin against his hand.

"That much money..." he added casually, voice low but clear enough for those nearby to hear, "you must really like that statue." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

A few people nearby couldn’t help but choke back laughter.

Lucas’s expression darkened.

Julian continued, tone unhurried, almost conversational.

"Or maybe," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "you’re just not very good at stopping."

The words landed soft.

But sharp.

Lucas’s steps halted for a split second before continuing forward.

The distance between them closed.

The tension in the air thickened, heavy enough to suffocate.

"Do you think this is funny?" Lucas asked, voice low, dangerous.

Julian shrugged lightly.

"Depends," he replied, glancing at him with a lazy smile. "Are you performing?"

A few suppressed snickers echoed in the background.

Lucas’s fists clenched.

His knuckles turned pale.

"Careful," he said, leaning slightly closer, voice dropping into a cold whisper. "Some jokes cost lives."

Julian met his gaze.

Unblinking.

Unbothered.

"Then you should stop making them," he replied calmly.

For a brief moment—

The two stood there.

Eyes locked.

Silence pressing in from all sides.

It felt like something invisible had drawn a line between them.

And neither intended to step back.

Then—

Julian suddenly leaned back again, as if the moment had already lost his interest.

He waved a hand lazily.

"Hello, could the staff please handle this uncivilized person who is personally attacking me?