Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World - Chapter 399 One Hundred And Thirty Five

Chapter 399: Chapter 399 One Hundred And Thirty Five

Okay—maybe it was a bit of a stretch to say it was perfectly suited for Lucky, especially with Gale around.

In Michael’s mind, wyverns were like the lesser cousins of true dragons—still dangerous, still powerful.

Gale, as a gryphon, also had wings. Infusing it with the blood essence of a Poison Wyvern could potentially enhance its flight capabilities or even awaken a new trait. But the problem was obvious—their attributes didn’t align.

The wyvern was poison-aligned. Gale, on the other hand, was a wind-type creature through and through.

Fusing the two might cause a mutation. Whether that would be beneficial or disastrous… no one could say.

Now, Lucky was a different story. It didn’t have wings, but it was poison-aligned.

If any of his undead had a natural compatibility with the essence, it was Lucky.

In the end, the blood essence was valuable to both. Whether it went to Lucky or Gale, it wouldn’t be a loss.

Michael’s eyes stayed locked on the box at the center of the platform.

He was getting that treasure. One way or another.

The starting price was soon stated.

“Fifty thousand gold coins. Minimum increment: Five thousand.”

The murmurs returned—but this time, laced with awe and apprehension.

This wasn’t just a valuable item. It was a test of wealth.

Michael didn’t move.

Not yet.

He watched as the room recalibrated.

Fifty thousand gold coins was no casual bid.

And still, the first paddle rose.

“Fifty-five thousand,” called a deep voice from Room Two.

Another quickly followed.

“Sixty.”

Then—

“Seventy thousand.”

The bids climbed like steps to a distant summit.

Seventy-five.

Eighty.

Eighty-five.

When the bid reached ninety-five thousand, there was a noticeable lull.

The auctioneer, professional as ever, gestured with poise.

“Do I hear one hundred thousand?”

Silence.

Michael leaned forward, just enough for the signaling crystal to activate beneath his fingertips.

He tapped.

A soft chime echoed.

“One hundred thousand,” the auctioneer announced, this time unable to fully mask his surprise. “Room Eleven enters the bidding.”

The room shifted.

A collective breath seemed to hold.

A hundred thousand gold.

That was over ten million silver coins.

They weren’t just shocked by the number.

“Duke Evermoon’s daughter… she’s rich!”

“So fierce with her bidding!”

But despite the awe, confusion lingered.

Why would the princess need something like that?

The essence’s greatest value lay in high-grade alchemy and as a cultivation resource for bloodline knights—two fields that had little to do with Arianne Evermoon.

The misunderstanding stemmed from earlier, when she had spoken in Room Eleven. Most attendees assumed she was the one bidding.

They had no idea someone else was in that room.

A quiet beat passed.

“One hundred and five,” came the call from Room Eight.

There, a youth with a brooding expression leaned forward, his sharp eyes locked onto the veiled balcony of Room Eleven.

Leonard Vale.

A bloodline knight… and a distant relative of the queen.

Michael had faced him before—in the second trial of the Duke’s competition.

Leonard had entered that tournament not for fame, but for proximity to Arianne. He believed she could be a stepping stone to greater power.

He hadn’t won. But never had he imagined she would block his path to power.

Now, she was doing just that.

Or so he thought.

The irony gnawed at him.

And it made his blood boil.

Michael’s finger moved without hesitation.

“One-ten.”

“Room Eleven again,” the auctioneer called.

Back and forth it went.

One-fifteen.

One-twenty.

One-twenty-five.

Michael didn’t flinch.

“One hundred and thirty thousand.”

That number hung like a guillotine.

Even with his noble background, Leonard Vale was already approaching his financial limit.

His expression twisted.

One hundred and thirty thousand was more than just a bid—it was a slap.

And yet… he didn’t want to give up.

The blood essence of a Poison Wyvern, while far too potent for him to consume directly, could still be alchemically refined into pills—powerful ones. With the right expert, he could extract every last drop of value from it.

With that essence, his current plateau would no longer be a wall. He could reach Grand Tier.

Without it? His bloodline offered a chance, but not certainty.

With it? Certainty.

Desperation bled into his features. He leaned forward, breathing shallow. Then, clutching onto the last scraps of noble pride, he activated his balcony’s voice crystal.

“Room Eleven, I’m Leonard Vale,” Leonard’s voice rang out, brittle and forced, “Princess Arianne, I beseech you. Please allow me this item.”

Michael raised a brow but didn’t speak.

Arianne blinked, tilting her head slightly as Leonard continued, “I will owe you a favor. One I swear upon my house.”

But his tone lacked humility. It sounded like a demand poorly disguised as a plea.

And it was poorly aimed.

Arianne’s lips curled slightly in amusement. She didn’t even glance at Michael before replying, her voice calm and clear.

“You seem confused, Sir Leonard.”

A pause. Then she added with just enough coolness to sting.

“Nor do I need favors from someone like you.”

Her words landed like stone in a silent pond.

Leonard’s face turned an ugly shade of red. The room stirred—some smirking, others murmuring quietly.

Room Eight went dark and silent.

Michael didn’t even glance his way.

“One hundred and thirty-five,” he called next, voice calm.

The auctioneer took one last look across the room. “Any more bids?”

No response.

“Going once… twice…”

He struck the final gavel.

“SOLD! Room Eleven claims the Poison Wyvern Blood Essence.”

The chamber buzzed once more.

Michael leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking toward

Michael finally exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders like a sigh escaping his bones.

And then, the numbers hit him.

Six thousand nine hundred gold coins for the dark elf.

One hundred and thirty-five thousand gold coins for the wyvern essence.

The total was 141,900 gold.

That was 14.19 million silver coins.

And in Aurora terms…

He mentally crunched the number.

Roughly 14.19 million dollars.

Spent in a single night.

Even for a capital auction, that was insane. Not many nobles could do that without feeling pain. Yet here he was, leaning casually in his chair, a rare blood essence secured and a deadly assassin about to be delivered.