Jing Haotian's eyes brimmed with pride, displaying a determination to win, causing the people in the hall to frown one after another.
Yet after all, for these cultivators, the allure of the Blood Ganoderma Bone Healing Ointment was too great.
"Eleven million, I hope the respected ones will lift their hands high, for this elderly man urgently needs this Spiritual Medicine to save someone."
"Twelve million, a family member is bedridden, please do not compete with me."
"Thirteen million, my fellow Daoists, considering that I never oppose any of you, please look after me this one time."
Many cultivators, while quoting their prices, also accompanied their offers with various reasons to gain sympathy.
But these were of no use.
"Fifteen million." Jing Haotian looked at Shen Qiang with a challenging gaze, like a dog guarding its food.
Shen Qiang felt like laughing inside, after all, the ointment was his own; the higher the price went, the more he benefited.
