As the bidding swiftly climbed to eighteen high-grade spirit stones, Wu Qingce was holding his breath, his eyes constantly flicking toward his senior brother.
“Why do you keep looking at me?”
Jiang Beiran, seated calmly in a Grand Master Chair, asked.
“Senior Brother, aren’t you going to place a bid this time?”
Popping a grape into his mouth, Jiang Beiran turned his head slightly and glanced at Wu Qingce.
“What are you thinking? This is a Yellow-grade magical treasure. It's enough to make those Sect Masters bleed their sects dry for a chance to get it. You think I stand a chance against them?”
Seeing Wu Qingce fall into thought, Jiang Beiran shook his head.
“Stop dreaming. Just watch the show.”
Just like Jiang Beiran had said, when it came to competing for Yellow-grade magical treasures, those Sect Masters stopped pretending to be modest or frugal. They were willing to spend everything their sects had. If Jiang Beiran were to go all out, he did have a few trump cards saved up, but it really wasn’t worth it.