Game’s Dogma

Some players left with shaking heads. They were initially interested in acquiring the plant, but once they learnt that it cost a hundred million, they left without turning back.

A hundred million coins were 10,000,000 in cash. Although legendary weapons could fetch up to four or five times the price, the insane bidding was limited to said weapons alone. They were powerful, attractive, and indicated one’s status. Even a legendary item like the Devil King’s Cloak would sell for less than a legendary weapon; of course, Drako Yau never planned on selling it anyways.

With that many coins, players could achieve far too many things for them to spend on a mere plant. In fact, players with such a bank balance were either filthy rich in real life or had a significant and steady source of income in the game, or else it’d be impossible to amass such riches.

Even the skeleton king summoning skill book couldn’t sell for such a hefty price, let alone the Phantasmic Realm Grass with unknown effects. Why’d someone spend so much on something that could end up as a decorative item?

“This old man’s out of his mind! Let’s go!” The boorish man rolled his eyes. While rich, he wasn’t retarded enough to buy a decorative item for that much. He might as well enjoy the company of famous idols for a few nights for that price.

The lady in his arms turned around to look at the plant, reluctant to leave. At that moment, a voice rang out.

“A hundred million it is. I’ll take it.”

The voice wasn’t too loud, just enough for the nearby players to hear him. Everyone turned silent as if someone was pointing a knife at their throats.

Gramps Got Migraine was sixty this year. He had once been young, too; in his younger days, he dropped out of school and roamed as a thug. He was often bullied, so he joined a gang. Wherever there was society, gangs existed—such was the dark side of human nature, like light and shadow.

He never became a gang leader or higher-up despite spending half his life in the gang. His hands had claimed several lives, and he had also taken on his boss’s sins and spent years in prison, granting him a minor leadership role in the gang.

Now retired, his days were spent in the game that rekindled the passion in his heart. His body regained its youthful form here; he could run and move like back in the days. With his experience in bloody gang fights, he developed his own battle mindset and integrated his Tormentor skills into it, making him an elite player.

The Phantasmic Realm Grass was an item drop he got from a wild monster. It seemed pretty rare, so he spent several days investigating it but to no avail. Realising he probably wouldn’t discover anything, he decided to sell it instead.

As someone from a gang, he naturally wouldn’t just sell it normally like any other merchant. He placed a hefty price tag on it so he could earn a considerable sum if someone actually bought it; 10,000,000 dollars was an unimaginable amount for him. Even if he couldn’t sell it, he might still come across someone who could appraise it.

The Phantasmic Realm Grass had to be something special given its appearance. However, the system just had to replace its description with a big fat question mark.

This was his second month putting the plant up for sale. Countless players had inquired about its price and left once they heard it cost 100,000,000 coins. Afterwards, he began giving out a seventy per cent discount for whoever could identify its effects or usage. Of course, he could always go back on his word and keep the plant for himself once he knew its effects.

Looking at the boorish man, Gramps Got Migraine didn’t even bother giving the discount. The man was just here to woo women anyways.

It was at that moment he heard a voice that stiffened him.

“A hundred million it is. I’ll take it.”

A weirdly dressed young man walked forth. His appearance was hardly appealing, yet his cloak covered all but his face. Some players used their detection skills, only to be left speechless when they found out he was wearing a bunch of common gear.

“That’s a hundred million we’re talking about! Why don’t you change your equipment first with that sort of money?”

Ridicules and mocking laughter broke out among the crowd. Gramps Got Migraine also kept his eyes on the young man and sized him up before saying, “Young pal, I don’t joke around.”

“I don’t either,” replied the young man, or rather, Drako Yau.

The crowd was taken aback by his calm demeanour amongst the ridiculing atmosphere. Equipment was just a rough indicator of one’s strength, after all. Many elites might look the same if they stowed away their overpowered gear. However, no one could recognise the young man.

Gramps Got Migraine found him suspicious but still proceeded with the deal calmly. “I’ve set the price in the stall. Just buy it there if you’re going to.”

“Sure.” Drako Yau held Charcoal under his cloak with one hand and called Windstrider through his phone with the other hand. “Send me a hundred million coins. Something came up.”

Windstrider replied casually and went ahead with his boss’ order. He wasn’t going to ask what the money would be used for. The tributes Drako Yau received from Yoda were all stored in Dragon Alliance’s bank account to be used as alliance funds, and Windstrider was the proxy who handled the funds. He didn’t really own the money himself, and he trusted Drako Yau, so he had no reason to ask. He’d send more money as long as Drako Yau asked.

The spectators couldn’t help sneering upon hearing how Drako Yau asked for 10,000,000 through a phone call as if it was nothing. They had seen many who pretended to be rich, but not someone so shameless and ridiculous with the act.

Under everyone’s stares, a messenger pigeon perched onto his shoulders and flew away moments later. No one could see the contents it carried as it was a delivery via the system. Once he received the money, Drako Yau brought up the trade menu on the stall. 

Gramps Got Migraine could hardly believe his eyes when he received the notification that read, “Trade complete. You have received: 10,000,000 gold coins.”

Setting up stalls and stores were player interactions, so the system didn’t take transaction fees like the trade centre. Gramps Got Migraine was still in a daze; the hard-earned money he got from a life of blood and violence was far less than that of a single trade in a game. Soon, he came to terms with it and calmed down.

The Phantasmic Realm Grass vanished from the stall and entered Drako Yau’s item bag. Gramps Got Migraine looked at him and asked, “Can I ask one final question? What is the true use of this plant?”

He must know what it’s used for! Surely no one will buy a useless plant for so much!

“I have nothing to say.” Drako Yau turned and left.

The crowd was in an uproar. The mystical plant ended up in the hands of a random youngster in poor equipment, at the cost of 10,000,000 coins, no less!

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