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.

the ruthless savages of Hundred

they would not cross. Anyone who made an enemy of them—even unknowingly— would be

variety to the condition of the corpse left behind, each more creepy than the last: Some would melt instantly

one would try to cross—what was more important, one's life or some

the woman sitting beside Frank turned toward Tavis and snorted. "Hah! Hundred Bane

that it almost appeared as if

afar. "Hey, girl—you're asking for it

your place—you're the one asking for

"What?! Sif Lionheart?!"

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