I AM A MAGE BUT WITH MILF SYSTEM-Chapter 422: Two saints?

Her pride burned.

She couldn't back down.

Not now.

Not before him.

Her voice rose again, stronger this time, biting through the heavy silence.

"One thousand and one hundred high-grade spiritual crystals!"

More gasps.

Even Fi Feng paused — the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to maintain composure.

But before he could even repeat the bid, Julian's voice cut through the air.

"Five thousand crystals."

The room froze.

Everyone turned to look — some trembling.

Even those who didn't know the value of five thousand crystals felt it, the overwhelming weight behind the number.

All eyes returned to the disguised Sect Leader.

She sat frozen, her fists clenched tight beneath the table, her anger bubbling behind her polite mask.

Julian's eyes didn't leave her. He stared straight down from his seat — locking onto her.

Not as a monk. Not as a guest.

But as a hunter.

And she — a saint—trembled.

With rage. With disbelief. And with a sense of helplessness she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

She wanted to bid further. She desperately wanted to. But five thousand high-grade crystals?

That wasn't just about wealth — it was about survivability. Enough to sustain the Heavenly Moon Sect for five entire years.

And yet, this monk... had tossed that number out like he was ordering tea.

Who is he? Could he really be… a saint?

That thought sent a wave of unease through her heart. Her ego screamed at her to continue, but her face burned with humiliation.

She clenched her jaw, brows furrowing in fury.

And that was when her aura slipped.

It erupted — raw and uncontrolled — and the entire auction hall froze. The temperature dropped, the spiritual pressure surging like a crashing mountain.

It was raw, Saint-level pressure, radiating uncontrollably from the disguised Sect Leader.

"A saint…!" someone whispered in terror.

"That's the aura of a real saint!"

"He's… a saint disguised as a disciple…?"

Every cultivator dropped their heads immediately, some even falling to one knee from the sheer force.

"Ugh—!"

Some clutched their chests, unable to breathe under the immense weight. A few even coughed blood as the sheer difference in realm crushed their protective spiritual barriers like paper.

Even the two previously fighting elders — Wu and Gao — who had threatened to murder each other over the Dragon's Breath Dagger, fell face-first to the floor.

"Saint…" Elder Wu muttered weakly.

"Forgive our arrogance…" Gao whispered, his voice shaking.

Across the hall, core elders, inner disciples, and rogue cultivators all fell to their knees in unison.

Even Fi Feng, the ever-confident auctioneer who had handled nobles and lunatics alike, collapsed clumsily on the main platform.

"Esteemed… Saint… forgive us…!"

The hall was silent, except for the sound of fear and confusion.

Up in the Sapphire Lobby, Julian chuckled. So much noise… just for losing a bid.

"Oh dear Heavenly Moon," he said casually, his voice echoing smoothly throughout the hall.

"Why create such a fuss… over losing a simple bet?"

His words were like a slap.

Everyone froze. Eyes widened. Mouths went dry.

Heavenly Moon?

The name alone made every cultivator present tremble with fear.

Their gazes, already lowered in submission, now flickered in disbelief and horror.

Was she the one disguised as that inner disciple?

All this time… we were bidding against her?!

But no one dared speak the question aloud. And as their confusion turned to fear, another realization began to creep in — something even more terrifying.

If Heavenly Moon wasn't the one seated in the Sapphire Lobby…

Then who was?

Whispers turned to panicked glances.

Two Saints…? In one place?

Being in the presence of one was already rare. But two?

It was unfathomable.

Meanwhile, on the floor below, the illusion around the "young disciple" began to flicker.

And then—

Golden light surged from his figure.

The fake robes evaporated like mist, and in their place emerged a radiant, royal woman whose very presence silenced even thought.

She stood tall and composed, dressed in a majestic gown of shimmering gold, embroidered with designs of dragons and phoenixes.

Her golden hair flowed behind her like a celestial river, glowing faintly with golden light. Her pair of golden eyes scanned the room coldly, their gaze alone enough to make hearts tremble.

This was no longer a "disciple."

This was Heavenly Moon.

Saint. Sovereign. Goddess in human form.

But above her, Julian leaned back in his chair, still calm, still grinning.

And when their eyes met…

She saw it.

The mockery, the superiority.

"Who are you?!" Heavenly Moon's voice thundered, making the earth below tremble from the sheer pressure.

Julian only smiled. His eyes half-open, lips curled in amusement.

And then—he yawned.

Casually.

As if her presence… her fury… her Saint-level pressure was nothing more than a passing dust.

"I am just a monk," he said, his voice calm.

"Traveling the world in search of freedom."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Even the bravest cultivators didn't dare breathe.

The auction hall, which had just witnessed a saint reveal herself, now stood on the edge of a clash that could shatter cities.

"Bullshit!" Heavenly Moon shouted, her voice laced with raw fury.

Her Qi flared again, this time more violently. Winds surged through the hall, taking some of the weak cultivators with it, causing massive cracks to form on the walls. Her golden eyes burned fiercer, and her gown shimmered brighter as her power surged uncontrollably.

"Don't play games with me!" she snapped.

"You think I don't see what you're doing?"

Julian tilted his head slightly and chuckled.

"Why are you creating such a scene?! You are disturbing the auction for no reason. If you like the item so much—"

He paused, drawing out the silence.

"—then bid more than me!"

The tension in the room reached a peak.

The crowd could barely process it — not just one saint, but two, and they weren't just here…

They were mocking each other.

Openly.

Heavenly Moon stared at Julian in disbelief.

Not because of what he said, but how he said it.

That tone, so casual, so dismissive, so insulting, hit harder than any attack could. It wasn't just disrespect.

It was open defiance.