And today, Frank was seeing it in action with his own eyes.

"300 million."

A youth dressed casually raised his paddle just then.

For some reason, the entire auction hall soon turned silent at his call.

Scratching his head nonchalantly, Tavis Holt grinned. "That Hyperion Root belongs to Hundred Bane Sect. Anyone who bids against me shall be labeled an enemy of my sect... and I'm sure everyone knows what happens after?"

As Tavis looked around at those around him, everyone who met his gaze were grimacing but backed out of the bid nonetheless.

would ever mess with the ruthless savages of Hundred Bane

they would not cross. Anyone who made an enemy of them—even unknowingly— would be poisoned with a variety of oddities in each instance,

left behind, each more creepy than the last: Some would melt instantly into a puddle of pus, while others screamed in agony for days before

was that one sect no one would try to cross—what was more important, one's

toward Tavis and snorted. "Hah! Hundred

almost

woman from afar. "Hey, girl—you're

simply sneered as she glanced at him. "You should know your place—you're the one asking for it.

"What?! Sif Lionheart?!"

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