Outworld Liberators-Chapter 164: Men Hungry for What the Terrace Could Offer

The first glimpse of daylight drew the excited crowd like hunger.

Men climbed toward the auction house in a loose river of robes and cloaks, faces hidden behind veils, masks, and shadows.

Flamboyant sleeves brushed against dark hoods. Rings flashed, then vanished back into gloves.

Everyone had a reason to pretend they were someone else, and no one trusted a stranger enough to show their real name.

From the outside, the auction house looked wrong in its size. Too large. Too confident.

At a distance, you could mistake it for the arena itself. Up close, it felt even bigger, the walls swallowing sound and returning it thin.

They entered and found a hall that could have held ten thousand people standing without the press of bodies.

The ceiling rose high enough that voices drifted before they fell, and the red-carpeted floor stretched wide. With every step, both spoke of luxury and comfort.

At the far end stood an entrance more than ten meters tall. Beyond it waited darkness.

Not simple lack of light. Not night. Darkness that looked thick. Darkness that felt like it had weight, like a curtain you could choke on.

Darker than any sky, darker than a closed eye. It sat there patiently, swallowing the glow from the hall’s lamps and giving nothing back. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

People slowed. Then stopped. Doubt flashed across faces before masks could hide it.

Fear pricked at throats. A few cultivators shifted their qi instinctively.

"Senior, is it safe to go inside?"

Someone tried to laugh and failed.

"Oh, shiver me timbers. That darkness felt like it’s going to swallow me whole."

"Should we enter now?" Another voice, quieter. "These attendants are just as silent as always."

The murmurs multiplied, thick as flies. Questions piled up with no answers.

The ghost attendants waited without moving, pale and patient, as if fear was just another line of the schedule.

Then eyes caught on something that did not flinch.

A large glowing board hung near the entrance, bright enough to sting, and it carried rules in clear script for all of them to read.

[Auction House Rules and Features]

[1. You will wear an Identity Obscuring Mask. It will automatically cloak your figure and identity from probing.]

[2. Those arriving in groups should hold each other’s hands. Do not fear the dark. It will bring you to your seating after a ten-minute walk.]

[3. Floors may shift under your feet with gentle tugs. This is normal. There is no need to panic.]

[4. All communication will be cut off from the outside. Qi will also be disabled for safety purposes.]

[5. In an emergency, attendants will locate you through the mask. We will not let a life be forfeit, mortal and cultivator alike.]

"I knew it. Why would Master Eldric make something dangerous."

"Look at that mortal fellow over there. He was shivering a moment ago."

A voice snapped back, too loud, too eager.

"Who said that? Fight me if you dare. I’ll come at you for three hundred rounds."

Nerves made tempers sharp. People began to cluster, then harden into shapes.

Factions took form in the open, cohorts gathering around familiar colors and familiar auras.

Those who meant to bid by proxy turned their heads away and began whispering into talismans, contacting clients who did not dare show their faces.

No one stepped into the darkness first. Pride wanted someone else to test the black.

Then the Five Summit Emperors arrived.

Their entourages were larger this time, five hundred men and women behind each, disciplined ranks wrapped in wealth and threat.

They scanned the glowing rules in a breath, then walked to the payment station and dropped gold as if it were water.

The first man in their line lifted a mask and put it on.

A black cloak seemed to bloom from his shoulders, swallowing his original robes.

His body stretched, joints popping, bones lengthening until he stood twelve feet tall.

The mask became a face, hungry and hollow eyed, a Preta visage that made the mortals recoil and the cultivators narrow their eyes.

Shock rolled through the hall. The second man clung to his friend’s sleeve and stepped forward.

He too grew to the same height, his cloak darkening, his silhouette turning monstrous.

Yet when they looked into each other’s eyes, nothing changed. Their recognition held steady. The disguise was for everyone else.

Now the size of the entrance hall made sense. It was built for giants.

Hands clasped, the first two stepped into the darkness and vanished as if swallowed.

Tiberius watched with a predator’s curiosity. He wanted to try without a mask. Not to offend. To prove that he could.

He walked up, paid without hesitation, and did not reach for any mask.

He stepped forward. A force struck him like a flat palm. He flew backward and landed hard, his ass meeting the carpeted floor with a thump that echoed in the hush.

Tiberius was not weak. Even without using his own strength, that should not have been possible.

No one laughed. Not even the mortals.

They watched and felt something settle inside them. Assurance. A rule enforced evenly.

If even Tiberius could not cheat the entry, then a mortal could spend without fearing some hidden blade would follow them home.

The temptation to pour resources into this auction grew sharper.

Tiberius rubbed his backside, scowling as he rose.

Gregodor sneered from the side.

"Fool. Clearly Senior Eldric foresaw this. Why jest with yourself?"

Tiberius snorted, swallowed his pride, and said nothing. He took a mask at last and moved to the end of his group’s line.

Inside, the walk was longer than it should have been. The darkness did not press like a cave.

It felt more like being carried through an empty void.

When light returned, they found seating arranged with deliberate simplicity.

No executive balconies. No special dais for kings. Just rows of couches and seats, comfortable, clean, and faintly segregated so groups did not bleed into each other.

Tiberius frowned. Across the way, he saw another large cohort seated in a mirrored section.

He opened his mouth and roared, pushing his voice as loud as he could.

"Hey! Let’s try to help each other out now," uncertain. Tiberius at his people. "You can hear me through this, right?"

His fellows, Contractcrown of Plunder Alp, all nodded. On the other side, there was no reaction at all.

He stood and walked closer. Five meters from the other section, he found a barrier thin as glass, dividing the space without showing itself.

He tapped it once. It did not ripple. It simply denied him.

Then that side of the room went black, as if someone had pulled a curtain over it.

Sania, Tiberius’s wife, leaned forward and picked up a small card on their couch.

Her finger brushed it by accident, and the card lit, showing a neat interface like a private window.

She made a soft sound that might have been amusement.

"This Senior Eldric really does know much of these arrays, huh?"

"He is an ancestor, if I reach that stage would I know as much?" Tiberius joked.

He sat back, arms folding, eyes scanning. Down on the stage below, Eldric stood waiting, calm as stone, watching the seats fill one masked face at a time.