"The auction continues."

Three minutes later, when the fairy hostess resumed the auction precisely on time and it seemed that no action had been taken against number 88, Lorenzo once again crushed the armrest of the sofa beside him.

"What is going on? Does that country bumpkin really have the money to keep going?"

He looked at his confidant next to him.

"Can you find out his identity?"

"This... I'm afraid not."

His confidant shook his head bitterly.

"After all, this is a black market auction. No one is required to verify their identity upon entry. Unless you pull him directly out of his private room to see his face, it's basically impossible to figure out."

"Useless!"

Lorenzo cursed angrily, his face darkening.

Originally, he thought he had scored big, planning to grab the invaluable ancient dragon heart blood at a bargain price of eight or nine million—even though its real worth was in tens of millions. But unexpectedly, out of nowhere, a meddling bumpkin had disrupted all his plans!

He'd even planned to use the savings from this deal to buy a large batch of advanced equipment to reinforce the strength of his gang, the Red Flame Gang!

"Are those two groups of people from earlier being tracked tightly?" Lorenzo narrowed his eyes slightly.

"They are!"

The confidant straightened up with a jolt and replied seriously.

"I’ve already deployed personnel, there won’t be any slip-ups!"

"Good."

The grievances suffered here would have to be made up elsewhere. After all, this was the black market—a place where no laws would restrain you. Spending money here didn’t necessarily mean the goods were yours.

"Boss, please calm down. Actually, even at the current price, it’s still far below market value. If we calculate carefully, we’re still going to profit. That clown won't keep hopping around for long!" His confidant attempted to console him.

"Of course I know that. I just can’t swallow this humiliation!"

Lorenzo sat back down.

The estimated market price for ten drops of ancient dragon blood was around fifty million. Moreover, for rare items like this, their value typically exceeds their listed price greatly. Just to be safe, he had brought a full hundred million for the auction this time!

And now, the bid was only at twenty million. No matter how he looked at it, it was still a steal.

"Carry on."

Lorenzo’s piercing gaze fell upon the private room marked eighty-eight, his lips curling into a cold sneer.

I want to see exactly what qualifications you have to challenge the Red Flame Gang’s financial might!

---

"Fifty million!"

"Fifty million... and one thousand."

"Bastard!"

After experiencing dozens of "heated" bidding rounds over the span of more than ten minutes, Lorenzo could no longer look down on the bumpkin. By now, he was thoroughly infuriated.

Fifty million!

It had already reached fifty million!

And dammit, that guy was still raising bids—by just one thousand each time—taunting him!

Initially, Lorenzo thought the bumpkin from room eighty-eight would back off once pushed hard enough. But it turned out that he was more than willing to match Lorenzo, climbing steadily alongside him to the full amount—fifty million!

There was no longer any profit to be made, and judging by number eighty-eight's relaxed tone, it seemed like he still had resources at his disposal!

Who the hell knew how far this guy might push the bid?

"Could it be that he actually wants the ancient dragon heart blood and isn’t just trying to raise the price to spite me?"

Lorenzo's thoughts raced. The angrier he felt, the more calm and rational he became.

Things had reached this stage, and there was no way he could afford to lose the ancient dragon heart blood now!

He stood up, disabled the room’s sound masking system, and spoke earnestly to the occupant of room eighty-eight, using his genuine voice:

"Gentleman in room eighty-eight, how about we make friends? I’m Lorenzo, leader of the Red Flame Gang in Lower City District. This ancient dragon blood is extremely important to me. I hope you can bear the pain of conceding it—for which I will lavishly repay you in the future."

"Red Flame Gang?"

"Lorenzo?"

The moment he uttered these words, the previously hypnotized audience—lulled half-asleep by the monotonous bidding—burst into an uproar again.

"He actually came in person to participate in this auction?"

It must be noted that the Red Flame Gang was one of the most notorious large gangs in Lower City District of Belland, controlling dozens of docks along the Gleine River. They also operated several smuggling routes, amassing vast wealth in the process.

As the leader of the Red Flame Gang, Lorenzo was infamous for his cruelty and cunning. It was said his influence had extended to high-ranking members of society. Not long ago, a baron’s casual remark that offended him ended with the baron’s mistress being stripped and hanged beneath a bridge the very next day.

Lorenzo's reputation for ruthlessness was so widespread it could make children stop crying at night. Anyone moving in Lower City District had no choice but to give him face.

Therefore, his words were not only a signal of goodwill but carried an undertone of threat.

But only if you were a player in Lower City District's turf.

Inside room eighty-eight, Moen heard the name and paused for a moment.

Lorenzo?

Who's that?

As for the Red Flame Gang, the name did ring a distant bell. If memory served, it was one of those groups that appeared for a few brief pages only to get squashed by Ariel, the protagonist of the original novel—a mere throwaway gang.

Is it supposed to be impressive?

"Apologies, but as the son of Duke Raymond, I have no desire to make friends with you." Moen finally broke his silence, his deep, processed voice echoing calmly, as if he truly were the son of a duke.

This time, however, the audience didn’t react with astonishment. Instead, they chuckled quietly under their breath.

Lorenzo, for his part, actually laughed in anger.

Son of Duke Raymond?

You?

If you’re the son of a duke, then I’m the damned crown prince!

Get a grip on reality!

Where was this place? Lower City District’s black market!

A place the noble elites wouldn’t even set foot in for fear of contamination!

Would a duke's son ever visit a place like this?

Are you kidding me?

"So, you're hellbent on opposing me, is that it?"

Lorenzo glared menacingly at room eighty-eight, his teeth grinding audibly. If not for the one-way tinted glass blocking his view, he’d likely have launched a murderous gaze capable of striking a person down.

"Opposing you? Why say that? I’m simply participating in standard bidding. Or are you implying there are restrictions to bidding within this auction house?"

Moen redirected the question to the fairy hostess.

"Are there?"

"Of course not. Everything the gentleman in room eighty-eight has done complies with our auction house's rules."

The fairy hostess smiled seductively.

She had no concern over whether the parties would clash afterwards. No matter the fallout, it was impossible for the aftermath to engulf the auction house itself.

As a professional auctioneer, her sole interest lay in the final sale price of the item.

Fifty million! Could it rise even higher?

With this thought in mind, she shot a charming glance towards room eighty-eight, her gaze practically dripping honey.

You’ve got this, big brother in room eighty-eight!

"See? Even the fairy hostess says so."

Moen spoke lightly. "Mr. Lorenzo, if you can't win the item, perhaps it's just because you're not enough for the task. How could that be anyone else's fault?"

"Not... enough?"

As Moen's offhand remark dropped, silence swept through the venue.

Like sensing the arrival of an impending storm, everyone held their breaths, exchanging wary, astonished glances towards room eighty-eight.

In all of Lower City District, no one had dared say that about Lorenzo!

"He... said I... wasn't enough for the task?"

Sure enough, in room one, Lorenzo’s face twisted with fury. His bloodshot eyes burned as though his mind was consumed by rage—logic and reason drowned in a tidal wave of emotion.

It was as if some particularly sensitive nerve had been hit by the remark.

"I fucking hate when people say I’m not enough for the task!"

"Today, I will personally show you whether I am or not!"

He snatched the bidding paddle from his confidant and announced his bid with booming authority, a voice that thundered through the entire auction house:

"My bid—one hundred million!"