The Lord God Descends into League of Legends - Chapter 15

Snow Girl’s heart surged with emotion, but she also knew she absolutely could not acknowledge Yan here. Doing so would only bring disaster upon her. Forcing down the agitation in her chest, she buried her delicate head into her arms, refusing to look at Yan, lest she draw the villains’ attention.

The crowd below fell utterly silent at the sudden turn of events upon the stage.

“This is precisely the wonder of this girl—born a natural shaman!” Luan Feng exclaimed, his eyes shining with barely concealed excitement as he looked upon the gathered young nobles.

“Truly an eye-opener, marvelous beyond compare!” said a young noble sitting close to the platform, his face lighting up with delight as he felt the waves of cold air wafting down from the stage. He rose to his feet, overcome with admiration.

“A natural-born shaman! This grand finale truly does not disappoint. Two thousand gold is far too little. I’ll offer four thousand!” cried the middle-aged noble who had been complaining moments earlier, his eyes fixed, glassy with awe, upon Snow Girl’s icy, ethereal beauty.

“Such a rare treasure cannot be measured with mere money—that’s far too vulgar. I’ll give six thousand gold!” the young noble who had just praised her shouted back indignantly, then turned eagerly toward Luan Feng.

On the stage, Luan Feng himself was shaken by the frenzy below. He had known this shaman could fetch a high price, but he had not expected such madness. The bidding had only just begun, yet the price had already tripled, soaring to six thousand gold!

If it concluded like this, how high could it go? Ten thousand? More? His face twitched with excitement.

Seated cross-legged behind a low table, Mo Chen watched the feverish scene, his expression darkening slightly, though he soon composed himself.

The greatest matters of state lie in ritual and war. Those gathered here were no mere commoners, but princes of nations and the wealthiest merchants under heaven. To them, Snow Girl was no longer a mere slave, but a divine shaman of extraordinary powers.

To any state, possessing such a woman would be of immeasurable value.

Having realized this, Mo Chen looked at the ecstatic Luan Feng and smiled faintly. Did this fool truly not grasp the implications? Or had he been blinded by greed, to the point of auctioning off Snow Girl rather than presenting her to a king? With such an offering, he would at least secure a minister’s rank, perhaps even one day rise to become a great lord.

Mo Chen’s gaze lingered on Snow Girl, his thoughts strange. The woman before him was nearly identical to the Snow Girl of The Legend of Qin, save that she looked younger. Could this be her ancestor—or was she in fact the very same Snow Girl herself?

If she were an ancestor, so be it. But if she were truly that Snow Girl, then things became interesting indeed—for the events of The Legend of Qin would not begin for nearly four hundred years!

Luan Feng drew a deep breath, his flushed face brimming with excitement as he addressed the crowd:
“One matter I have yet to explain—this slave is untamed, her wild nature not yet subdued by my clan.”

“Enough prattle! Get on with it! A wild little thing always has a different flavor,” someone in the crowd jeered impatiently, staring at Snow Girl as though she were a feast to devour.

Yan’s face went pale as she listened. Did they truly mean to eat her elder sister? Otherwise, why would they look at her like she was food?

Her body trembled, and glancing at the silent Snow Girl upon the stage, Yan suddenly cried out in a clear, ringing voice:
“Elder Sister!”

Her words froze the entire hall. All eyes turned toward her in astonishment, and when they saw her strange, bl00d-red eyes, gasps spread throughout the crowd. None had ever seen such eerie, crimson pupils.

On the high platform, Luan Feng also turned. Recognition flashed across his face—the runaway girl who had escaped his grasp! Joy surged in him.

Both sisters were born shamans. If one was worth ten thousand gold, then the pair together could fetch tens of thousands!

The thought of such fortune made his heart pound like a drum. He signaled his guards, then stepped down from the platform, his eyes blazing with greed as he looked at Yan as though she were a pile of glittering treasure.

“Yan, run!” Snow Girl’s calm face finally cracked as she shouted desperately from within her cage. She pressed against the bars, eyes filled with panic as the guards began to surround her sister.

Startled, Yan quickly realized the danger. Her petite body pressed tightly against Mo Chen, clutching the hem of his robe with trembling hands.

“Yan is not afraid of you… not afraid!” she cried, tears glistening in her crimson eyes. A flickering flame danced into being on her left hand as she pointed it at the crowd.

The Luan clan’s guards, though momentarily shaken by the sight of fire in the girl’s palm, did not break formation. Their discipline was evident.

“Many thanks, young master, for helping us recover this runaway slave,” Luan Feng said smoothly, stepping closer with a sycophantic smile. “I shall reward you with two thousand gold for your trouble.”

The words dripped with insincerity—yet to onlookers, it might indeed appear as if Mo Chen had simply returned a fugitive.

“Oh? You say she is your runaway slave? What is her name then, and where is your proof?” Mo Chen asked mildly, sipping tea from the table before him, his smile calm.

“Her name is Yanfei. Such treasures cannot be branded like common slaves,” Luan Feng replied seriously. He would not relinquish a treasure worth tens of thousands of gold.

“Haha! I have long heard of the arrogance of the Luan clan of Jin. I did not expect even a mere servant of your house to be so brazen. To turn black into white so smoothly—you do your family name proud indeed!” Mo Chen laughed aloud, setting his teacup down, his gaze mocking.

Yet inwardly, he was bemused. Yanfei… could this be the Yanfei of the Yin-Yang clan? Just how much had this world twisted the story of The Legend of Qin? Could she be the Yanfei of this generation, the East Lord herself?

“Such insults to my clan cannot be tolerated!” Luan Feng’s face darkened at Mo Chen’s mockery.

Mo Chen met his glare with indifference, a faint smile on his lips. “I, Mo Chen, have feared many things in life—but the Luan clan of Jin is not among them.”

A minor noble clan of Jin—what was that, compared to the vast multiverse? If he wished, he could erase them all in a single day.

“This time, since you helped retrieve the runaway, I will let it pass. But you are no longer welcome here. Escort this man out,” Luan Feng ordered coldly, eyes narrowing like blades as he motioned to the guards.

At his signal, the guards behind Mo Chen lunged forward, their ironlike hands reaching for his arms.

“The prestige of the Luan clan truly is eye-opening,” Mo Chen said with scorn, not even turning his head.

His right arm shot back with lightning speed, as though he had eyes in the back of his head. He seized the guard’s wrist, gave a twist, and hurled the burly man backward.

The guard flew more than a dozen feet, crashing into six others and sending them sprawling in a heap. Some were even wounded by their comrades’ blades, crying out in pain.

The crowd gaped in shock. To sense an attack without turning, to fling aside a man of nearly two hundred pounds with a single backward thrust—such strength was nearly unheard of. By estimation, Mo Chen’s arm alone carried the force of five stone weights.

“This man insults my clan and disrupts the auction! He deserves death! Kill him!” Luan Feng snarled, retreating several steps, his face frosty as he commanded his men.

“Hold,” a languid voice suddenly drawled from the front.

All eyes turned.

Reclining in the arms of a half-naked beauty, his head pillowed upon her ample bosom, Ji Yi spoke lazily:
“Far too boring. A hundred fully armed guards against a lone, unarmed swordsman? Such a contest is no fun at all—no fun, no fun.”