Zhou Yan noted bread fetching 50 spirit coins in the trading hall. His black-scaled snake, surely worth more, prompted a bold ask: 1,000 spirit coins in the [International Trading Hall]. A steep 10% fee would skim off the top—less stingy than the [National Trading Hall]'s 5%, or private trades' mere 1%, akin to postage. Spirit coins ruled here; without them, survival meant dust.
To his shock, the snake sold instantly.
[Territory Prompt: "[International Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 900 spirit coins."]
He gaped. "What the hell?" Hunger-crazed lords snapped up a wild carcass—worth a hundred coins tops outside—for ten times that. Laughter erupted from him, wild and unrestrained. A goldmine beckoned.
Fat and water, he mused, shouldn't flow to strangers. Sensing the food shortage, he listed another snake in the [National Trading Hall] for 1,200 spirit coins—a modest hike. Then, in the international market, he dangled a third at 5,000, unapologetically gouging foreigners. No wars scarred the Canglan Continent's reality; nations clashed instead on the lordly plane, battles confined to "fair" zones. Immortal overseers forbade total war, permitting only controlled skirmishes. The Dragon Kingdom's rapid rise drew foreign ire, its victories frequent and proud.
High trial scores could earn university favor, national rewards—lavish for thriving lords—or even a military post. Zhou Yan dismissed such paths. His dual lord spaces demanded secrecy.
[Territory Prompt: "[National Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 1,140 spirit coins."]
"Gone again!" he exclaimed. Anonymity cloaked his sales—no one traced them to him. He listed more.
[Territory Prompt: "[National Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 1,140 spirit coins."]
[Territory Prompt: "[National Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 1,140 spirit coins."]
[Territory Prompt: "[National Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 1,140 spirit coins."]
A poetic urge struck: Ah, how sweet this haul! To thrive and defend, he'd need a [Barracks]. Its summons—spanning countless races—grew rarer with territory quality. All required food. Starve a mighty, ravenous soldier, and loyalty crumbled to mutiny—a ruinous prospect. Day one's desperation explained the black-scaled snake's inflated worth.
Emboldened, Zhou Yan priced his remaining snakes at 1,500 spirit coins, flooding the [National Trading Hall].
[Territory Prompt: "[National Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 1,425 spirit coins."]
He grumbled, "Damn capitalists." Only the wealthy wielded props to flood the trial with coins—luxuries beyond most. Then, a jolt:
[Territory Prompt: "[International Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 4,500 spirit coins."]
"What the—?" His foreign fleece landed a sucker. Temptation surged. He listed his last snake—meant for dinner—at 5,000.
[Territory Prompt: "[International Trading Hall] Sold one black-scaled snake. Received 4,500 spirit coins."]
The rich baffled him; poverty veiled their world. The chat room buzzed with outrage:
"Shocked! Mystery lord sells black-scaled snake for 1,200 spirit coins—moral decay or human twist?"
"Insane! Poor-mad lord hikes snake to 1,500 spirit coins. Beastly!"
"International fools pay 5,000 spirit coins—pure robbery!"
"Yet some idiot buys."
"Not you, though—you're broke."
"Rich bastards! My troops and I chew bread; I'd die before buying that snake—100 coins real-world!"
"Kid, your sourness stinks. I'd weep, but I'm too broke."
"Snake lord, PM me—sister sings and dances, satisfaction guaranteed."
"Could be a lady seller."
"Or swings both ways."
"Penguin Group here—let's deal, snake friend."
"Pin Duoduo's chairman's my dad—snake pal, let's connect."
"Xiaomi Group—snake bro, let's talk."