Chapter 105: The Appraisal Event (III)

“I want that item. Help me secure it.”

Upon hearing Ferren’s words, the three sisters showed no immediate reaction, but Miss Yue, standing beside him, nodded in agreement.

“All right, understood.”

“Huh?”

Watching Miss Yue skillfully operate the remote control and begin participating in the auction, the three sisters were momentarily stunned. This was clearly their commander’s purchase, so why was Miss Yue handling it? Wasn’t she affiliated with the Fuyuan Society?

Sensing their confusion, Ferren quickly explained to ease their doubts.

“Every auction, I entrust half of my assets to the Fuyuan Society for safekeeping. So when the appraisal meeting happens, I delegate the transaction side of things to them. It’s simple, fast, and… I don’t have to worry about a thing.”

As if to prove Ferren’s words, it wasn’t long before the screen before them displayed the auction prices for a cloaking cloak, starting at one million and climbing steadily to five million… These soul artifacts, much like magical equipment, were highly sought after in the wasteland. Whether for personal use or for their subordinates, they significantly boosted combat power.

In the end, the cloak sold for six and a half million—equivalent to six excellent-grade energy chips plus five ordinary-grade ones. Almost immediately after the sale, someone delivered the item, and Ferren caught the cloak, barely glancing at it before tossing it to Chris, who sat dazed nearby.

“This is for you.”

“Huh?”

Looking at the limp cloak draped over her lap, Chris was momentarily frozen. She instinctively grabbed the cloak, and after a brief daze, it was as if she’d been electrocuted—she sprang up, staring at Ferren in astonishment.

“Commander?”

“Don’t look at me like that, you earned it.”

Without a second glance at Chris, Ferren waved his hand dismissively.

“Since you’ve chosen this path, I, as your commander, naturally must give you something to keep you alive. I’m sending you to the battlefield, not to your deaths. The gear’s yours now; whether you survive from here on depends on yourselves.”

“…”

Hearing Ferren’s words, Chris blinked but said nothing. Instead, she clutched the cloak tightly and sat back down. Honestly, Ferren’s words were not incorrect; as a commander, he had the responsibility and duty to update his troops’ equipment and enhance their fighting capabilities. Yet, in this wasteland, how many could truly do that? Even the mercenary groups wandering the wilds mostly scavenged gear from spoils. To intentionally bid on something for their use? That was simply impossible.

“Don’t hesitate with him. If you see something you want, just say it,” Miss Yue said with a teasing grin, stirring things up.

“The doctor is one of our biggest clients. His wealth here is practically limitless. Unless he gets bored enough to buy an aircraft carrier, his money could easily support him living in Vegas for a hundred years. And don’t be fooled by his appearance—most of the equipment he wears is soul gear, you know?”

“Really?”

At this, the three sisters suddenly grew interested. Their eyes widened, and they focused their gaze on Ferren’s person. Yet, disappointment soon overtook them as they failed to detect any equipment information on him. Clearly, this was some gear designed to block detection—but where Ferren hid it remained a mystery.

“Of course it’s true.”

Ferren seemed unconcerned about Miss Yue exposing him. He reached out and gently stroked the chin of a black cat.

“Otherwise, why do you think I dress like this? I’m not some Persian cat with obsessive cleanliness, needing five sets of the same outfit…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, just reminded me of some boring old memories.”

Waving his hand to indicate he didn’t want to dwell on it, Ferren turned his attention back to the screen before them. Soon, the second item appeared—a miraculous artifact that could make girls grow a certain appendage. It was unclear which familiar had come up with such a bizarre creation out of boredom.

While Ferren and his group were engrossed in the appraisal meeting, elsewhere in Vegas, in a different room, another secret transaction was underway.

“Have the items been brought?”

Through the screen, Monks stared at the man on the other side—dressed up like Caesar himself—and almost had to summon all his willpower to keep from laughing. Calling his group the Caesar Legion and thinking oneself Caesar? What use was it dressing like Caesar? You’re just a fool with nothing but muscles. Doing business with someone like this, and having to personally appear as well, felt humiliating. Monks’ family traced back to two presidents and was renowned worldwide. If not for the damn catastrophe, perhaps he could have entered politics and become a congressman or president.

Little did Monks know that the man on the other side harbored the same thoughts—The Federation collapsed decades ago. Just because you wear a suit doesn’t make you a president. Ha! Look at these brainless fools, descendants of exiled convicts with only this level of intelligence. Unlike us, descendants of the noble Roman Emperor Caesar, destined to restore Roman glory on this continent! What could a bunch of bandit and outlaw descendants hope to achieve?

Each side secretly regarded the other as fools, which ironically made the transaction proceed smoothly. Using pre-catastrophe official language, one might say they conducted a productive and friendly exchange, signing a series of contractual agreements… but that was far from the truth.

“Of course the items are ready.”

As a descendant of the Caesar royal line, the legion commander clearly had no intention of wasting time on a convict’s descendant—what was there to care about these fools who bullied locals with guns against bows and spears, arrogant as if they were something special? Their military bases and ports could be infiltrated by a tiny island across the sea. They were as dumb as amoebas.

“Have you brought your items?”

“Certainly.”

As a member of a noble family with two presidents in their lineage, Monks clearly looked down on this outsider—those damned Italian immigrants who sneaked in and only caused trouble with organized crime. They were good for nothing else.

They would be wiped out sooner or later.

Thinking this, Monks waved his hand. Soon, a servant stepped forward, opening a chest and displaying its contents.

“A total of 150 energy chips, including five of excellent grade—all here.”

“Only this?”

The Caesar legion commander’s expression softened slightly but didn’t change much. Seeing this, Monks frowned in displeasure.

“What’s wrong? This was agreed upon. Is there a problem?”

“The situation has changed. I demand an additional ten energy chips, at least of excellent grade.”

“Dream on!”

Monks’ ancestors were tough as nails, having braved storms, scalped Native Americans, and trafficked slaves. He had no respect for a few Italian immigrant descendants. Already displeased, he was angered further when the legion commander tried to renegotiate.

“You damned bastards looking for a fight? The price was agreed upon long ago. It can’t just change now!”

“We have legitimate reasons! This is compensation! You must compensate for our losses!”

Ignoring Monks’ furious roar, the Caesar legion commander showed no signs of backing down. His family was once one of Wall Street’s Big Five, respected even by the Federation’s high-level politicians and bureaucrats, who would address them as “Godfather.” Now the Federation’s president—the pre-catastrophe one—was just a puppet of the conglomerates, refusing even to obey their orders?

“Your losses are none of our concern.”

Monks was unafraid of the legion commander’s threats. He could threaten to storm their camp with a bottle of laundry detergent, wiping out their damned slaves without mercy.

“Our people were targeted by the doctor, suffering heavy casualties, even my son died. Isn’t it the Federation’s responsibility to compensate?”

“I…”

Hearing the shameless and unreasonable claim from the legion commander, Monks was speechless. In fact, he had long suspected why Ferren suddenly attacked the Caesar Legion. He suspected Ferren might be an enemy of his own secret organization; otherwise, why would he fight the Caesar Legion? The legion commander’s words seemed to confirm Monks’ suspicion.

Could it be that the doctor was after their goods?

With this thought, Monks no longer wished to waste time.

“Fine, I understand.”

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Monks made a decision.

“I will prepare ten excellent-grade energy chips immediately. I guarantee to get them as soon as possible. But I hope this is the last time. If after I prepare these, you still refuse to hand over the goods, don’t blame me for being ruthless!”

“Of course, business is business.”

Surprised by Monks’ straightforward acceptance, the Caesar legion commander wasn’t expecting it but didn’t intend to haggle further. According to their family motto, everything was business, and business required principles. As for that damn doctor… after settling things here, he’d deal with him.

The communication window closed. Monks stared coldly at the auction hall on the screen, sighing deeply before sitting down again. At that moment, his servant hurried over, anxiously speaking.

“Sir, we have no more chips in reserve…”

“I know.”

Monks was well aware that what he brought was nearly all that remained in the Federation’s stockpile. Honestly, he was dissatisfied but powerless, as the price was set by the secret organization behind him. He could only pay. Unless he abandoned the Federation, this money had to be paid.

After a moment’s hesitation, Monks gritted his teeth and made a decision.

“Contact the Fuyuan Society and tell them we have a new item to submit for auction…”

“What item?”

“The Watchful Goddess.”

“What?”

Hearing Monks’ words, the servant was shocked.

“Sir, that’s impossible! The Watchful Goddess is one of our Federation’s most important assets…”

“Do as I say. Go handle it.”

Waving his hand, Monks dismissed further objections. The servant left the room. After the door closed, Monks closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

This time, the Federation suffered a heavy loss.

(To be continued.)