Chapter 154: Ferocity

“The auction will now continue.”

Three minutes later, as the pixie lady resumed the auction right on schedule and the auction house seemingly took no action against Number Eighty-Eight, Lorenzo once again crushed the armrest of his sofa.

“What the hell? That hillbilly actually has the money to keep going?”

He turned to his subordinate.

“Can you find out who he is?”

“That... I’m afraid not.”

His subordinate shook his head with a pained expression.

“This is a black market auction—no one’s identity is verified at the door. Unless we drag him out of his box and look at his face, there’s no real way.”

“Useless!”

Lorenzo spat, face livid.

He had thought he’d scored a massive bargain—spending less than nine million to win Ancient Dragon Lifeblood worth tens of millions. But now this damn shit-stirring hillbilly had come out of nowhere and ruined his entire plan!

He’d been planning to use the money he’d saved to buy a whole batch of new gear and beef up the Red Flame Gang!

“Those two earlier groups—have you locked onto them?” Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.

“All set!”

The subordinate straightened up, serious now.

“Our people are in position. There won’t be any mistakes!”

“Good.”

What he suffered here, he’d get back elsewhere.

This was the black market—where nothing and no one was off-limits. Even if you paid, that didn’t mean the item was yours.

“Calm down, Boss. Honestly, even now the price is still way under market. If we do the math, we’re still profiting. Clowns like that guy won’t keep jumping for long,” the subordinate offered, trying to soothe him.

“Of course I know that. I just can’t fucking swallow this insult!”

Lorenzo sat back down.

The ten drops of Ancient Dragon Lifeblood were estimated to be worth around fifty million. And since it was a rare item with no set price, it would usually sell for even more. Just in case, he had brought an entire hundred million today.

And the current bid was only at twenty million. However you looked at it, it was still a massive profit.

“Let’s keep going.”

Lorenzo’s cold gaze swept across toward Box #88, his sneer dripping with disdain.

Let’s see how you think you can match the Red Flame Gang in financial might.

...

“Fifty million!”

“Fifty million... and one thousand.”

“Bastard!”

More than ten minutes later, after dozens more “intense” rounds of bidding, even Lorenzo could no longer scoff at that so-called hillbilly. He couldn’t even stay seated anymore.

Fifty million!

It had already reached fifty million!

And that bastard was still matching him, one thousand at a time!

Lorenzo had assumed the other guy would back off eventually.

But he had followed him all the way to fifty million.

There was no profit left now—and judging by Number Eighty-Eight’s relaxed tone, he wasn’t even close to running out of money.

Who knew how far he planned to go?

“Is he actually trying to win the Ancient Dragon Lifeblood instead of just jacking up the price?”

Lorenzo’s mind raced. The angrier he got, the calmer he became.

They were already this deep in—there was no way he could lose the Ancient Dragon Lifeblood now!

He stood up and turned off the sound-masking enchantment in his private box. Using his real voice, he called out sternly to Box #88:

“Sir in Box Eighty-Eight, how about we make friends? I’m Lorenzo of the Red Flame Gang in the Lower District. This Ancient Dragon Lifeblood is extremely important to me. I hope you’ll let it go. I’ll repay you generously in the future.”

“Red Flame Gang?”

“Lorenzo?”

The moment he spoke, the crowd—who had been lulled into near sleep by the monotonous back-and-forth bids—suddenly erupted into noise.

“He actually showed up in person for this auction?”

The Red Flame Gang was notorious throughout the Lower District of Belland. They controlled over a dozen piers along the Gulaine River and had multiple smuggling routes, amassing obscene wealth.

And as the leader, Lorenzo was known for being ruthless, cunning, and vicious. Rumor had it that he had tendrils reaching all the way into the circles of nobility. Not long ago, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° a certain baron had said something that offended him—only for his mistress to be found the next day, naked and hanged under a bridge.

Lorenzo’s infamy had reached the level where children were told his name to stop their crying.

In the Lower District, everyone gave him face.

So this message of his was meant to be both an olive branch—and a veiled threat.

But that only worked if you were from the Lower District.

Inside the private box, Muen blinked at the name.

Lorenzo?

Who the hell was that?

The Red Flame Gang rang a bell—they were that cannon-fodder gang in the original novel, right? Showed up for like two chapters before getting wrecked by the heroine Ariel?

Were they supposed to be impressive?

“Sorry, as the son of Duke Raymond, I have no interest in being your friend,” Muen replied.

His voice, filtered and processed to sound deep and resonant, echoed with effortless indifference.

As if he really were a duke’s son.

But this time, the audience didn’t react with shock. Instead, soft snickers broke out.

Lorenzo himself let out an incredulous laugh.

Son of Duke Raymond?

You?

If you’re a duke’s son, then I’m the fucking Crown Prince!

Look at where we are!

This was the Lower District black market!

The kind of place high-ranking nobles would avoid like the plague!

A duke’s son coming here?

Are you shitting me?

“So what you’re saying is... you insist on going against me?” Lorenzo said through gritted teeth, eyes locked on Box #88. If not for the one-way black glass, his glare alone would’ve killed someone.

“Going against you? What makes you say that? I’m just bidding like everyone else. Or are there limits to how we’re allowed to bid here at this auction?”

With that, Muen turned toward the pixie lady.

“Are there?”

“Of course not. Everything Number Eighty-Eight has done is within the rules of our auction,” the pixie lady replied with a charming smile.

She couldn’t care less if the two of them ended up killing each other later. It wasn’t like the flames would ever reach the auction house.

As a professional auctioneer, she only cared about the final selling price of the item.

Fifty million! Could it go even higher?

Her gaze toward Box #88 grew so sultry it could practically drip honey.

Go for it, Big Brother Eighty-Eight!

“See? Even the pixie lady agrees.”

Muen’s voice was light as air: “Mr. Lorenzo, if you can’t win the item, maybe it’s just because you’re not good enough. Why blame me?”

“Not... good enough?”

As Muen’s offhand remark landed—

—the entire room fell silent.

It was the kind of quiet that comes right before a storm.

No one dared to breathe. They just stared toward Box #88 with reverent eyes.

In the Lower District, no one had ever dared say that to Lorenzo.

“He... said I’m not good enough?”

Sure enough, in Box #1, Lorenzo’s face twisted in rage, his eyes bloodshot, as if fury had swallowed all his sanity.

It was like someone had jabbed a nerve—hard.

“I fucking hate it when people say I’m not good enough!”

“Tonight, I’ll personally prove whether I’m good enough!”

He snatched the bidding number from his subordinate and roared, his voice booming across the entire auction hall:

“I bid... one hundred million!!”