"Alright, I completely didn’t take that matter to heart, so you don’t need to worry about it either."

Moen helped the alluring woman to her feet, casually tucking her slightly messy hair behind her ear.

Despite the heavy makeup, Moen could still discern that this woman was young—probably just past twenty, at most. It was the prime of youth.

"Don't debase yourself like this for a living."

"But..."

The alluring woman hesitated slightly.

In the black market, shielded from the Empire’s radiance, survival for someone as weak as her often came through such means.

To rely on an unwarranted kindness from others seldom led to good outcomes—just like her predecessors who had suddenly vanished.

"Are you dissatisfied with this?" she asked nervously. "I… I can loosen up more. If you have any other preferences or requests, I can fulfill them. In fact, I can even—"

"Enough!"

Moen frowned and sternly interrupted her self-promotion.

"I don't need that."

"Then..."

The woman’s face turned pale, assuming Moen had decided not to forgive her. She clutched the hem of her skirt, looking helpless and disoriented.

"Sigh."

Seeing her in such a state, Moen realized that outright refusal would only be counterproductive. So, he sighed softly.

"Alright then, since you’re determined to do something, I suppose I have no choice..."

...

"Does this feel good, sir?"

"Ah, yes, that’s good. Mm, right there..."

Under the alluring woman’s expert service, Moen couldn’t help but sigh in comfort.

"Yes, yes, a little further over. Press harder. Mm, that’s it—amazing! Your skill is truly impressive."

"You flatter me, sir. After all, this is something I do quite often."

The alluring woman smiled seductively and then found herself momentarily stunned. She hadn’t expected that what this man wanted her to do was simply massaging his shoulders and back.

"Sir, is this really sufficient? After all, services like these are already included as part of our standard offering," she said nervously while continuing to knead earnestly. Even though her hands were starting to ache, she dared not slacken her efforts in the slightest.

"That’s enough. I overexerted myself last night, leaving me with some back and waist soreness. Your expertise at this is truly a blessing."

Moen stood up and gestured that she could stop.

Stretching lazily, he indeed felt significantly more relaxed.

"Alright, you can leave now. The auction is about to begin."

"Understood."

The alluring woman obediently nodded.

She was aware that during auctions, privacy issues often arose; most guests preferred not to have outsiders around.

The purpose of people like her was merely to help guests kill time before the auction began.

"If you need anything, please call for me anytime."

The alluring woman respectfully exited. Just as she was about to turn and leave, Moen suddenly stopped her.

"Wait, take this."

"What’s this...?"

The alluring woman stared in surprise at the heavy envelope Moen tossed her way.

"It’s a tip."

"A tip—this much?"

Moen didn’t turn around and instead rested his chin on his hand, gazing out the window.

At that moment, the hall dimmed, and a spotlight illuminated its central area.

The curtains opened.

Everything fell silent, and the small auction platform seemed to become the world’s focal point, making the surrounding darkness seem even deeper.

Against the fog-like darkness, Moen focused on the spotlights, murmuring softly as if to himself:

"Staying in darkness too long can darken even a maiden’s skin. But I much prefer fairer tones."

"Sir..."

The alluring woman gazed at Moen’s back in a daze, her eyes suddenly growing moist. She took a deep breath and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, sir. I’ll try my best."

Clutching the hefty envelope tightly as if holding onto a lifeline, she stepped away.

...

...

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s secret auction. I am the host of this event, and you may call me… Fairy Mistress."

In the glow of the spotlight, an enchanting woman dressed in a flesh-colored gown studded with diamonds rose gracefully from beneath the platform. Her devilishly seductive figure was highlighted by the tight-fitting gown, its plunging V-neckline nearly exposing half her round bosom.

Accompanying her alluringly soft tone, Fairy Mistress deliberately ran her fingers across her pale skin near her chest, instantly igniting the auction’s atmosphere.

"Heh, so this is the usual auctioneer shtick, huh?"

Moen reclined comfortably on the sofa, assuming a relaxed pose and casting an innocent gaze, as if simply appreciating the artistry before him—entirely unperturbed.

After all, the crazed excitement of last night hadn’t yet faded; he was still in a reflective phase. No beauty could stir him—the Fairy Mistress included.

Naturally, even the most enticing temptress paled in comparison to the genuine article.

At this very moment, he was nothing more than an emotionless auction machine, entirely focused on obtaining what he sought—Heart Blood of Ancient Dragons. No other item could capture his interest.

"Banter aside, let’s move on to tonight’s first auction piece."

After making a few bawdy jokes and showcasing her voluptuous figure, stirring the blood of many hapless men in the audience, Fairy Mistress finally transitioned to the main proceedings.

With an elegant wave of her delicate hand, several scantily clad young women carefully carried forward a tray draped in red cloth.

Since this was merely the first item, she didn’t tease the auction crowd for long. After throwing a few coy glances toward her audience, she unveiled the cloth in a single, sweeping motion.

A pink teardrop-shaped gem came into view, dazzling everyone’s eyes.

"A gemstone—the Tear of True Love!"

With her captivating voice resonating, Fairy Mistress held the gilded gem case high, circling the stage to ensure every viewer could admire the sparkling teardrop-shaped gemstone.

The magical projection system displayed the gem’s image across a large screen, allowing all attendees to examine every delicate detail from multiple angles.

The Tear of True Love?

Moen froze slightly, his relaxed posture on the couch morphing into a more upright position as his gaze fixed on the pink gem with a hint of astonishment.

What a coincidence! Not long ago, someone tried to swindle him with a fake one, yet here stood the real deal.

"The Tear of True Love—a gemstone symbolizing pure romance. Legends say gifting this gem to the one you admire will win their heart..."

"Besides its symbolic significance, this gem’s material is truly exceptional. The teardrop design bears no sign of artificial carving; it’s as if it were naturally formed..."

After spending a full five minutes beautifully detailing the gem’s significance, Fairy Mistress announced the starting bid.

"Starting price—100,000 Emil!"

100,000?

Hearing this price, Moen was taken aback.

Slashed prices didn’t usually go so low! After all, during its peak popularity among the aristocracy, certain noblemen reportedly offered millions of Emil for this so-called token of love to impress their mistresses.

Was this then some sort of special marketing strategy?

Moen scanned the crowd but found the atmosphere was far from lively.

Only a handful of disinterested voices called out higher bids in snail-paced increments. It took a significant amount of time to inch the price up to 300,000 Emil.

"What’s going on here...?"

Moen stroked his chin, suddenly understanding.

This wasn’t a legitimate auction—it was a black market event.

Most attendees were ruthless, Lower City District vagabonds living precariously from one bloody encounter to the next.

To this crowd, magic scrolls capable of obliterating entire families or alchemic weapons for slicing foes like vegetables were far more valuable than a flashy but impractical gemstone at a hefty price tag.

After all, in a magical world, ordinary gemstones—especially ones like this that lacked combat applications—rarely drew interest outside the aristocracy. To anyone not blinded by romantic ambitions, such baubles were hardly worth more than their aesthetic appeal.

Moen wasn’t about to join this crowd of fools either. Champion had no shortage of gemstones; why bother with something so mediocre? He could fetch gems as big as goose eggs and enchanted ones at that.

"Wait a sec—hold on."

Just as Moen decided to lie back again and hold out for the ancient dragon blood, a fleeting thought crossed his mind.

"I remember… Senior Anna seemed rather fond of this Tear of True Love, didn’t she?"

Thinking back to their date, Moen recalled how even odds of 99% forgery hadn’t deterred her curiosity.

That was one of the rare occasions she openly showed interest in something in his presence!

"So if I gave this to her... she’d definitely be thrilled!"

Moen’s eyes gleamed. Thoughts of swindlers, naive romanticists, or foolish spending vanished entirely.

Resolved, he decided he couldn’t let this gem slip away. The Tear of True Love—he had to make it his!

...

...

"Listen carefully, Ariel."

"The key to triumphing at auctions is discretion."

"Never bid far above the current price, nor far below it—it’ll draw unwanted attention."

"Your offered price should hint gently at your moderate interest. Meanwhile, avoid revealing the item’s true value."

"Remember, silence yields big rewards."

Seated in the general seating area, Ariel was also cloaked in a black robe concealing her aura. She closed her eyes, absorbing her teacher’s wisdom.

Turning the teachings into her own strategies, Ariel suddenly opened her eyes, their clear depths radiating sharp brilliance.

Holding up her paddle numbered 17 immediately after the prior bid of 300,000, she offered a new one—quietly yet astutely.

"301,000 Emil."

"Tch."

The man who’d bid 300,000 grumbled in frustration, deciding to withdraw the idea of continuing to offer.

Seeing this, Ariel habitually smirked in victory.

"Don’t get complacent—it’s not over yet."

"302,000 Emil!"

Within moments of her triumphant smirk, Ariel heard her mentor’s caution again—as well as the gentle yet determined voice of a woman across the room.

From the edge of the seating area, bidder #50 spoke, raising her paddle and matching Ariel’s tactic.

Squinting slightly, Ariel fixed her gaze upon the opposite corner of the room.

There sat another figure clad in a black cloak, her silhouette just betraying the distinctive curves of a breathtaking woman underneath the robe.

Seeing this, Ariel couldn’t help but puff out her chest pridefully.

Hmph, it's not professional. Those curves alone make it obvious you’re a woman!

Now look at me—black robe up, disguise perfect. Male? Female? Guess you’ll never know!

In the unforgiving black market, maintaining absolute anonymity was essential. Even small carelessness could lead to devastating consequences.

These lessons were written in blood.

Still, Ariel wasn’t one to underestimate the opposing bidder.

Her bidding style alone marked her as a seasoned auction veteran—and perhaps someone who, like Ariel’s mentor, keenly recognized how this Tear of True Love might conceal extraordinary secrets!

"You don't have to worry too much about this."

The master's voice once again echoed in Ariel's mind.

"The 'Tear of True Love' might contain some special abilities, though I only have some slight suspicions and cannot fully confirm it. For the level of people here, discovering its secrets would take another hundred or eighty years. It wouldn't have been placed in this auction for you to pick up at a bargain.

The person selling it is likely doing so with the idea of auctioning it off, then reselling it at a higher price to those nobles."

"Then I can relax!"

Ariel nodded, raising her number paddle once again.

"Three hundred thousand… and three thousand."

"Three hundred thousand… and four thousand."

"Three hundred thousand… and five thousand."

"Three hundred thousand…"

In the venue, only Ariel's paddle with the number 38 and the mysterious woman's paddle with the number 50 remained in the bidding frenzy. The voices of the two rival bidders echoed continuously, as though they were engaged in some sort of duel.

Even after a prolonged back-and-forth of bids, the price seemed to crawl upward like a snail, still lingering in the three-hundred-thousand range.

The fairy hostess was dumbfounded. She had presided over countless auctions but had never encountered such haggling that resembled an old woman bargaining for groceries. The rest of the audience grew impatient and began booing incessantly.

But Ariel didn't care at all.

The bidder holding number 50 was clearly hesitating now; as long as Ariel persisted, victory would inevitably be hers!

Getting such a mysterious, potentially extraordinary gem for merely tens of thousands wasn't just a stroke of luck—it would be a resounding win!

The thought brought tears of joy to Ariel's eyes.

To think of the days she had been living recently.

The black market was shut down, and studying ancient magic required huge sums of money. She had been forced to tighten her belt to get by, with a weekly food budget of only two hundred Emil!

Two hundred! A sum she wouldn't have even bent down to pick up in the past!

But that wasn't the worst part. Remarkably, she managed to lose that two-hundred Emil food budget—twice—barely a week apart!

And it was all the fault of that blasted Moen Campbell!

He caused her to live for nearly ten days on nothing but rye bread, her chest nearly shrinking from the hunger.

Fortunately, the black market reopened just in time.

The stockpile of ancient magic scrolls she had saved for two months, along with the alchemical apparatuses forged with her master's assistance, sold like hotcakes through black market channels.

After all, such items were always in higher demand than supply, and since her products were of superior quality due to ancient magic craftsmanship, she naturally made a killing.

Now that she had some money, of course, she came to the auction to see if there were any great finds.

Although she did get swindled out of some small change by that conniving woman from the dodgy shop passing out flyers, that minor grievance was nothing in comparison. If she could win the 'Tear of True Love,' all her suffering would be vindicated.

"Three hundred fifty thousand and two thousand!"

"…"

Her perseverance paid off. When Ariel called out the number with determination, the mysterious bidder with number 50 finally seemed to have given up, choosing not to bid any further.

Everything seemed to be settled.

"Three hundred fifty thousand and two thousand—once."

"Three hundred fifty thousand and two thousand—twice."

The fairy hostess slammed the auction gavel quickly; she no longer cared if she could squeeze out a few extra thousand. She simply wanted to wrap it up quickly—otherwise, the carefully cultivated atmosphere might fizzle out entirely.

As the fairy hostess's hammer strokes came in succession, Ariel clenched her fists tightly, holding her breath, her eyes glowing with eager anticipation.

Once she landed this deal, forget just getting chicken drumsticks with every meal—she could eat a whole roasted chicken for every meal without a worry!

Hmph, that darn Moen Campbell—surely, he couldn't interfere with her good fortune this time, could he?

"Three hundred fifty thousand and two thousand—third—"

"Number 88, five hundred thousand."

Just as the auction gavel was about to fall for the third time, a cold voice boomed through the auction hall via the custom magical loudspeakers installed in a private room.

The voice was low and hoarse, clearly modified through special means, yet it carried an aristocratic arrogance and an air of extravagant brazenness that struck Ariel like a hammer blow, leaving her vision in momentary darkness.

"F-Five hundred thousand?"

Ariel nearly choked as she gasped for breath:

"Who does this number eighty-eight think they are, raising the bid by tens of thousands in one go?"

"Five hundred thousand! Number eighty-eight bids five hundred thousand!"

The fairy hostess was momentarily taken aback but rapidly grew excited.

She turned her gaze towards the concealed private room numbered 88, her bewitching eyes gleaming brightly.

Now, this was more like it! This was how an auction should be conducted!

Incrementing by a thousand at a time? Go haggle with elderly ladies at the market instead; don’t waste my time here at the auction!

"Five hundred thousand! Would anyone like to bid higher?"

"I… five hundred thousand… and one thousand!"

Ariel's eyes were bloodshot; she practically ground her teeth to dust to eke out this new bid.

No matter. Five hundred thousand was still profitable—changed from a bleeding win to just a significant win, that's all.

"Six hundred thousand."

But that voice rang out again, so nonchalantly, it sounded like that hundred thousand wasn't even money but a stack of scrap paper.

"Six hundred thousand… and one thousand." Ariel's face twisted in agony.

"Seven hundred thousand."

"Seven hundred thousand… and one thousand." Her features contorted.

"Eight hundred thousand."

"Eight hundred thousand… and one thousand!" Ariel was losing her mind with desperation!

I refuse to believe it—you can't keep raising the bids like this!

Come on—bring it on!

The 'Tear of True Love' might be just an ordinary gem to you, but I refuse to believe you'll throw away close to a million on a worthless stone!

"Ha, so annoying."

At that point, a sigh came from the private room of number eighty-eight:

"Fine, let’s make it a clean million."

One million!

The entire auction hall erupted into chaos.

Even the fairy hostess, who had witnessed countless auctions, paused for a moment in astonishment.

This wasn't some aristocratic art auction where a painting or calligraphy piece could go for billions at the drop of a hat.

For many present here, one million might well represent their entire net worth.

Yet here was someone throwing a million at what appeared to be a mere ordinary gem?

Some people here, of course, have heard of the legend of the Tear of True Love, but this kind of ordinary gemstone without any special role, but also rely on the so-called symbol of true love hype that time is worth a little bit of money, and now you take it to look for a few million from those aristocrats, they will only spit on you and call you stupid!

"A ...... million? How is it possible ......"

Ariel slumped on the chair, covering her chest and gasping violently.

"Ha.

Haha.

It's just a measly million, help me up, I can still ......"

"No way, Ariel!"

This time, even her Master couldn't sit still.

"Just give up on it, we don't have that much money! There's definitely something good behind us, there's no need to hang on it for long."

"Sell, let's sell other things for money!"

"We don't have anything left to sell, if we sell again, we'll only be able to sell ......"

The Master paused and said:

"It will only be possible to sell your Heaven Flame Great Sword, are you willing to part with it?'

"But ......"

Ariel looked at the gem that might hold a secret, and a great unwillingness crept up on her face.

The opportunity to make a big profit and then have roasted chicken at all times was right in front of her, but she could only miss out on it, how could she be resigned to that?

"Damn it!"

But no matter how unwilling she was, no money is no money, in the end, in Fairy Mistress' third sound of the hammer, Ariel could only look with a face of sadness and indignation towards the hidden private room where the mysterious number 88 was located.

The ink-coloured one-way glass obscured all the sights in it, but just by looking at it, Ariel felt a burning flame ignite in her heart.

"Who the hell are you?

Why is this feeling that upsets me so familiar?"

......

......

"Isn't this too much of a waste of money?"

In the private room, Moen, who had just spent a million in one breath, was instantly plunged into deep guilt.

Although a mere one million was nothing to the Duke's House, taking one million to buy a gift for a girl always felt like the kind of thing that only a playboy who relied on the lower half of his body to think would do.

"No, I'm nothing like that. It's not like I'm trying to hit on Senior, I just want to repay her kindness.

After all, for me, the value of Senior's patient teaching for that month has long exceeded a mere million, it's not too much to call it priceless!"

Moen persuaded himself and quickly walked away from these feelings of guilt.

The reason of repaying kindness is omnipotent!

......

The auction continued.

However, the next exhibits didn't really interest Moen anymore.

This was because most of these auction items were prohibited items that were not circulated well in the world.

For example, a forbidden drug that could briefly increase one's strength by 50%, but with the side effect of impotence.

The magic scroll that is powerful enough to blow up a square but can only be detonated manually.

Although strange, but these things are sold very well, the price of speculation in full swing, even people almost fight on the spot.

The only thing that surprised Moen was that among the goods auctioned, there were fifteen military magic crossbows and ten pairs of third generation magic guide armour.

"These are the stuffs that will be considered a rebellion once found from a noble's home, but it will be circulated in the black market, could it be that the person behind the black market is even involved with the military?"

Thinking about it this way, that so-called black market boss, he's far more than a simple boss.

Moen stroked his chin and kept observing the people down there.

At this time, he discovered that the few people who had previously auctioned off the crossbow and the magic guide armour had sneaked out of the auction hall, and after they left, some more people quietly followed them, and according to the dressing, it was obvious that they weren't in the same party.

"This is ......"

Moen raised his eyebrows slightly, as if he recalled something, so he picked up the copper bell specially placed at the corner of the table and shook it.

The heavily made-up sultry woman pushed the door in and respectfully said:

"Sir, are you looking for me?"

"Will the auction guarantee the personal safety of the guests?" Moen asked.

"Of course, as long as it's within the venue, we will resolutely protect our guests."

"Within the venue?"

Moen understood and laughed lightly:

"Can you do me a favor?"

"A favor?"

The woman froze for a moment and nodded vigorously:

"Sure."

"Go to the entrance of the auction house."

"The entrance ...... And then what?"

"Then stay there."

Moon said:

"Do what you normally do there, just help me remember the bearings of the next early departure of those who left, and that's all."