Chapter 171: The Underground Auction (Part Two)

“Very well. After the auction, the buyer will come to make the payment and collect the items you sold,” the man on stage said respectfully, struggling to suppress a smile. He then waved his hand, signaling for another box to be brought up.

“What?” The buyer who had just paid fifty seven-colored jade beads for the item turned completely dark with anger. Wasn’t this an outright trick? He had been made to pay so much for this thing.

Boss Jin’s expression also turned grim. How many items had these people taken from him, planning to sell everything? These people were truly despicable. If they ever fell into his hands, he would tear them limb from limb and feed them to the dogs.

Mo Fan found a seat and sat down, unable to hide the smile on his face. Strangely, no one approached to hand him a bidding paddle, nor did anyone stop him from sitting there. Could this have been arranged?

“Next up for auction: a full two thousand seven-colored jade beads. Starting price: five billion. The auction begins now,” the man on stage said with an air of calm confidence, seemingly unbothered by any disruption. His eyes scanned the entire hall as if he could read the desires in everyone’s hearts.

The others watched with amusement, considering it a spectacle. Two thousand beads starting at five billion—so the fewer beads sold, the higher the price. The earlier buyers must have been at a loss; they thought they had scored a bargain but ended up paying more.

Expecting more to come, many chose not to bid, quietly waiting. Yet silence fell—no one raised their paddles, no one spoke up.

Mo Fan, reluctant, became the first to bid. Smiling, he said, “Six billion. Let me tell you, if none of you bid six billion, I’ll buy all two thousand beads. Are you truly willing to let that happen? Besides, there won’t be any more auctions after this—this is the last one.”

The people present gritted their teeth. Even six billion was beyond their reach. A few wealthier buyers considered bidding, but if they raised the price, it would only drive it higher, leaving them empty-handed in the end. Yet if they missed this chance, they might never get another.

Several buyers gripped their paddles, debating whether to raise them. Others cast sharp glances around, trying to see who might win the two thousand beads, hoping to negotiate with them afterward.

Boss Jin, An Feng, and Liu Fei exchanged looks of disbelief and anger. After a long wait, they finally received a message from Mo Lan.

Lan: If possible, bring Mo Fan back. I will handle the rest. Money is just an external thing; it can be earned again. But he should be brought back.

An Feng stared at the message on his phone in silence. Under these circumstances, they couldn’t just take Mo Fan away—this was the boss’s turf. No one could simply whisk a person away. He didn’t reply, deciding to explain the situation later.

“Seven billion.”

“Eight billion.”

The bidding continued, and the atmosphere in the warehouse gradually grew lively, a subtle playfulness spreading throughout. A faint smile appeared on a figure lurking in the shadows—good, the thing he wanted was within reach.

“Let’s leave. If we don’t go now, we might not get the chance later,” An Feng said, spotting several men in black suits and masks already departing. He decided it was best to take two people and leave first.

Boss Jin and Liu Fei nodded after scanning their surroundings. They stood cautiously, carefully squeezing through the crowd and walking out calmly, giving the impression they were merely stepping out for fresh air.

The men in the shadows saw them leave and signaled a subordinate to send people after them. The subordinate nodded and immediately called for reinforcements to follow An Feng’s group.

Mo Fan watched the departing figures, glanced back briefly, then resumed bidding. He didn’t have the money, but the Mo family surely would pay.

“Thirty-one billion.”

The price steadily climbed. Some people gave up, placing their paddles down on the table and quietly withdrawing from the bidding war.

Seeing that no one else was willing to raise their bids, Mo Fan waved his hand, signaling that only the Mo family would cover the cost. His gaze fixed on the man on stage, who still wore a kind smile. Mo Fan nodded, indicating the auction could end.

“Although the final price didn’t reach my expectations, I sincerely thank all the guests present today. Those who sold items, please wait here with your payment. We will accompany you to complete the transaction shortly,” the man on stage said, pretending to be a little regretful while secretly pleased with the outcome.

The others sighed one after another. After all, they didn’t have particularly close ties with the Mo family. Moreover, no other Mo family members were present, so no one dared approach Mo Fan to build connections or buy a few beads discreetly.

“That host, I didn’t bring money. Can you just collect it directly from the Mo family?” Mo Fan shouted loudly, looking like someone who came empty-handed but still wanted to eat.

Those preparing to leave all turned to look at him, murmured among themselves, then departed, their faces filled with regret. Only the wealthy and those who had auctioned items remained.

The man smiled and came down the stage, patting Mo Fan on the shoulder without a word. Then he glanced at two men in black suits standing by the door.

After a few minutes, everyone who was supposed to leave had done so, leaving only those meant to stay behind. Mo Fan and the man exchanged sinister smiles as they looked at the remaining crowd.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out—several men carrying boxes were shot squarely in the forehead, collapsing as blood began to pool. More people were struck, and the rest stared wide-eyed in terror at the men in black suits and masks.

“Ah!”

“Help!”

“What are you doing?”

The cries and screams made Mo Fan and the man grin wickedly. They were thoroughly satisfied with such reactions. After all, these people were doomed; what did it matter if they screamed? Such melodious cries—let them continue.

More men in black suits and masks rushed in, quickly surrounding the remaining attendees. Some were so frightened they crouched, shielding their faces with boxes, trembling violently—truly pitiful.

“Please don’t kill me! I’ll give you anything!” One shrewd buyer stood up, clutching his box, trying to negotiate.

Mo Fan sneered, snatched a gun from one of the men, and shot the desperate man. The buyer’s eyes widened in disbelief, staring at Mo Fan. These people had ties to the Mo family—what was the Mo family doing?

The others cowered on the ground, clutching their boxes, shaking uncontrollably. No one dared stand or flee. They threw their money on the floor, raised their hands, and hung their heads, too scared to utter a word.