Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World Chapter 401 The Tenth Item

The Duke’s tone was as clear as glass and twice as cold.

The room that had spoken—Room Nine—imdiately fell silent.

A single verbal slap from a Duke was enough to shut down even the most arrogant noble houses.

A slow, almost smug grin played at the edge of Arianne’s lips. "Father’s had enough of the posturing."

Michael sat back, nodding slowly. "Can’t bla him."

And yet, inwardly, Michael sighed.

Even the Duke was bidding now.

"Two million, one hundred," called Room Three again.

Then Room Five.

"Two-two."

"Two-three."

"Two million, five hundred thousand," ca the thunderous bid from Room Fifteen.

The hall shook—not literally, but the weight of the number struck every listener like a hamr.

So nobles gasped.

Others fell silent, their expressions stiff.

Michael simply exhaled.

’Yeah... I’m definitely not in the right tax bracket for this one.’

He glanced at the crystal embedded in his seat. Not even worth considering.

"I swear," he muttered to himself, "this place wasn’t built for a poor man like ."

Arianne laughed softly beside him.

"You’ve done more than enough tonight. If you bought that scroll too, people would riot."

Michael offered a dry chuckle, but his mind was already racing through the conversion.

Two million, five hundred thousand gold coins.

That was... over 250 million silver coins.

Or in Aurora terms...

250 million dollars.

For a one-ti use item.

Sure, it was powerful..

But still.

And the scroll?

It hadn’t even been sold yet.

"Do I hear two million, six hundred?" the auctioneer asked.

Silence.

No one answered.

The weight of Room Fifteen’s bid had cracked the spirit of every other contender.

"Going once... going twice..."

"Three million."

The voice wasn’t Duke Evermoon’s.

It ca from Room Three.

The air changed again. Even the auctioneer flinched slightly, not expecting the sudden surge.

Before the silence could settle—

"Three point four," ca the calm call from Room One.

"Three point six," Room Five snapped next, unwilling to let go.

Then—

"Four million," Room Fifteen.

It was the Duke again.

"Four point five million gold coins," Room Three fired off.

The auctioneer looked ready to drop the gavel.

He glanced toward Room Fifteen, waiting... nothing ca.

He waited five long seconds—counted them carefully with flicks of his fingers.

Then the gavel fell.

Bang!

"SOLD! For four million, five hundred thousand gold coins—to Room Three!"

A roar erupted across the auction house.

So gasped, others cheered. But most? They stared in stunned silence, unable to fully process what had just happened.

A single-use item. A scroll.

Sold for 450 million silver coins.

Michael exhaled slowly, as if releasing the last lingering hope of ever affording sothing like that.

He leaned back in his seat, watching the glowing crystal not far from his hand reach. It hadn’t even flickered once during the entire bidding war.

"I wasn’t even a participant," he murmured.

"Good," Arianne said lightly. "If you’d even tried to bid, I might’ve elbowed you unconscious."

Michael chuckled softly. "For my own good, I assu?"

"For your financial survival I presu," she corrected.

"Haha."

Michael’s gaze returned to the auction floor, where the attendants were clearing the pedestal. They did so with reverent care, as if handling a divine relic.

He found his fingers twitching.

Whoever Room Three was, they now possessed a weapon of mass destruction.

However, Michael figured that for sothing like this to appear and for other competitors to be calm, it ant it was sothing others had.

He figured this trade just ant one more trump card.

The waters of this world was indeed quite deep.

Michael’s thoughts turned practical.

"4.5 million gold coins..."

He did the math in his head.

That was 450 million silver.

And in dollar terms?

Aurora’s conversion rate was roughly one silver coin to one dollar.

So, yes. $450 million.

Gone in seconds.

The kind of number that should belong in international trade agreents or black budget military projects.

He let out a low whistle. "And I thought I spent big."

Arianne raised a brow. "You did spend big. Just not this-crushing big."

"Fair point."

This auction wasn’t even over yet.

The lights dimd again.

The auctioneer stepped forward.

Michael’s brows lifted slightly.

Arianne straightened.

If the ninth item was a great-tier scroll... what in the hell could possibly be worth more?

They were about to find out.

The auctioneer let the anticipation hang for a breath longer, before raising his hand.

"And now," he began, voice calm but resonant, "for our tenth and final item of the night."

An attendant rolled out a golden stand. On it sat a single object covered by a glimring silk cloth.

The audience leaned forward in silence.

"In this world, there are many powerful items, forged artifacts, relics of magic and might. But the rarest of all," the auctioneer continued, pacing slowly along the edge of the stage, "are those untouched by man."

He stopped beside the stand.

"Natural treasures."

A wave of understanding swept through the room.

The cloth was pulled away.

A large fruit was revealed—its surface pulsing faintly with vitality, glowing softly from within. Its skin shimred with a spectrum of light, like sunlight trapped inside.

"Miracle fruits," the auctioneer said. "Born in places saturated by elental energy or nourished by the world’s spirit veins, and protected by nature itself."

"So miracle fruits purify the marrow and blood, allowing a mortal to step into the path of a cultivator. So heal grievous wounds that even peak-tier elixirs cannot nd. And so—so grant what the heavens rarely allow."

He paused, savoring the silence.

Then he spoke.

"This... is the Longevity Fruit."

The words dropped like thunder.

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

He had so experience with miracle fruits.

Take the Soul Magic Fruit, for example.

Not only had it significantly increased his mana, but it was also the reason he’d gained a deeper connection to his soul. It had also allowed him to perceive the very appearance of his talent—sothing he figured shouldn’t be possible with his rank yet.