Chapter 30: Black Gold

Eugene Fordy’s day began in a bedroom so vast it stretched beyond the horizon, like something out of a novel.

“Are you Maid #71 or #72? Whatever. Serve me.”

The opulence wealth can buy always pushes the limits of human comprehension; as the king among kingpins, he was probably so rich he had nothing left but money.

The slave market handles astronomical sums daily, and for someone like him, as long as he doesn’t go too far—say, embezzling treasures specifically requested by powerful figures—money and wealth alone are so abundant here they can’t possibly be spent.

Hundreds of servants, a mansion that would make a count envious, a bathtub large enough to raise fish, and outside, a line of young, beautiful maids—he lived a lavish, utterly unhidden life.

Yet he remained in the docks district, even within the slave market itself.

Someone like him wasn’t just forbidden to leave Huicheng—he wasn’t even allowed to leave the docks district. The slave market’s private estate was destined to be his entire life.

Sometimes he questioned whether it was the ones inside the cage who were slaves, or himself outside it.

“Hmm, I’m not the prisoner—they are.”

Early in the morning, after enjoying the thrilling “beast fight” show, watching the unfortunate souls torn apart by lions, he laughed with delight.

The slave market in the docks district was no longer merely a trading exchange.

Perhaps it had started that way, but as demand and desire kept rising, it had long since twisted into something else.

Inside a grand hall of the slave market, known as the Arena Club, a blood feast had just taken place.

Outside the circular arena where the dead and beasts lay, audiences of all ranks waved their betting slips, cursing the dead as worthless.

In the private boxes along the walls and the special front-row seats, masked spectators reveled in the thrill of blood and death.

Those once dignified gentlemen and noble ladies no longer spoke the lofty moral platitudes of their former lives.

Some fanned themselves with their hands over their mouths, eyes gleaming with excitement; others scolded the immorality of the place while staring hungrily at the pools of blood.

“Looks like the new show’s a hit, though they seem to have grown tired of beasts tearing apart humans.”

“Maybe we can add something—next time, fetch some monsters from the underground ruins? Add new betting options—bet on favorites.”

“By the way, some of the maids are getting stale, and some have passed ten.”

Everything here offered pleasure, yet clearly, there was no morality.

Even laws existed—after all, within the kingdom, the slave market was legal and regulated.

Under this system, complete slaves who had lost everything were not counted as people—they were merely consumable wealth.

When shedding morality and empathy brings wealth and status, intelligent life reveals astonishing depths of depravity and adaptability.

“Viscount Kuhn loves your new show. He has some slaves he doesn’t want and wants to join in.”

“It’s my honor.” Eugene would never refuse an upper-class patron seeking entertainment.

“Grand Priest Keda hopes you’ll keep an eye out for new merchandise. The boy last time was good, but too old—better if younger.”

Younger? Last time he was seven already—this monster.

“It’s my honor! Please tell him I’ll act swiftly.” Yet Eugene replied with palpable excitement.

“Lieutenant Vendar asks if you need any fully enslaved military captives—your new arena games must consume a lot.”

“Wait, there hasn’t been a war lately, has there?”

“No war doesn’t mean no war slaves. Some backward villages dare refuse to pay taxes—without taxes, how will our generals feed their troops?”

The kingdom’s chaos and decay revealed themselves most plainly and nakedly at the lowest, sewage-choked depths.

Decay was total, every direction sliding deeper into the abyss.

“I’m honored—I’ve got a new idea. Perhaps we could stage a small battlefield spectacle: a fully armed knight facing off against these rebellious peasants. Let our audience enjoy it.”

The evil, wealth-bringing idea of “Black Gold”—Eugene Fordy never ran short.

The slave market had grown to this point, now dragging in countless high-ranking figures—his vicious little mind was likely directly responsible.

It brought him endless wealth and connections, yet trapped him within his own kingdom.

He knew too much—too much of the true beastly nature hidden beneath the noble facades of the powerful.

If he tried to leave his kingdom or retire, people would fear he might expose something.

Merely the possibility of him falling into his enemies’ hands was enough to make him vanish without a trace.

He was in a cage too—only he reveled in and was satisfied by this golden beast cage.

Sometimes he felt he was no different from the gang trash outside—both were pleasant to use, yet when idle, even standing on a public stage felt like an unbearable filth.

Thinking of gang members reminded him of yesterday’s overly eager young man.

Did he think Eugene couldn’t see through the pretense beneath that excessive enthusiasm? But Eugene wouldn’t expose him—he enjoyed the warmth.

Who isn’t a mask-wearing pretender? Who isn’t a hypocrite in this filthy world?

Suddenly, he remembered the new topic in the docks district: a “noble” Classical Oath Knight.

“He’s probably a true good man.” Anyone with even a little knowledge of Oath Knights understood this ancient goodness.

But everyone could see—the degenerate’s power was fading. When he truly lost it, he wouldn’t need tigers or leopards to kill him; the dogs who hated him, feared him, or even envied him would tear him apart themselves.

When everyone is pitch black, your brightness doesn’t just shine—it blinds and hurts our eyes.

“Perhaps I should prepare a seat in this cage for him. A once-noble Classical Knight, torn apart by a pack of lowlife thugs—surely many would pay to watch.”

“By the way, yesterday’s little fellow seemed connected to the Knight. Hah—does that noble man plan to rely on such trash to protect himself after his power fades? How absurd. Let’s see if anyone places a bet.”

Eugene never acted unless there was profit—or rather, an order.

Based on past experience, he was certain one would come—perhaps a noblewoman craving novelty, a hidden cultist practicing filthy rites, a collector, or simply someone trying to humiliate so-called justice and morality.

“By the way, I have another appointment today.”

Yesterday’s man, dressed like a gentleman but acting like a pig, claimed he had a rare, valuable item worth auctioning at a high price.

He said he’d bring it today for me to examine.

“Hah—docks trash, what rare treasures have they ever seen? Probably just more low-quality magic items and junk.”

But soon, he was stunned—his face lit up with surprise.

“Hero’s Blood?! How is that possible?! Is it from that Knight? No—was it from that noble?”

“Private transaction? Of course—it must be kept secret.”

He seriously considered canceling his dinner with a noble and setting off immediately to complete this transaction that couldn’t wait.

“Cavendish, Sil. Forget Cavendish—take Sil.”

His two bodyguards were his protectors—and also the slave market’s (and its backers’) watchers over him.

Hero’s Blood could never enter the auction process—anyone who touched it would instantly try to swallow it whole.

Holding the blood fragment, no larger than a fingernail, feeling its pure vitality, Eugene’s face broke into a delighted smile.

In this world, power meant more than just wealth and status.

If one could evolve into a stronger “species” through this, it meant a longer life—who could refuse living longer?

Bringing one extra bodyguard meant one more person to split the spoils—even if he got only a tiny share, Eugene still resented it.

But he dared not abandon his guards—those who wanted his head were probably more numerous than those who hated the Knight.

“Seven tonight? Fine. Tell your boss I’ll be punctual.”

That night, he arrived precisely on time at the old mansion in the slums, and the giant who opened the door looked somewhat dim-witted.

“Welcome, welcome.” Li En, cloaked in illusion, cheerfully greeted his prey.

(End of Chapter)