Hearing the dismissive comments from the crowd, the elder in yellow forced a stiff smile. ''This half-mask is indeed pretty useless; its only selling point is the five hundred years' age. I hope it can sell for a decent price. Of course, if it doesn't sell, I can't do anything about it. The first two rounds of bidding already made me look good—it all depends on what happens now.''
"This is—" In the VIP room, Igris's body went rigid.
His dual-colored eyes locked onto the broken mask on that stone table. He didn't blink. He didn't breathe.
Then something happened.
Deep within his veins—something ancient and dormant 'surged'. It was like a slumbering beast had been struck by lightning. His asura Bloodline suddenly pulsed as his blood thumped hard against his chest.
