Reborn with Infinity Money System, I was Worshipped by All Universes!

"Arrogant? How were you being arrogant?" Velen asked curiously.

"Master, remember when I promised to compensate Little Ray by making sure he wouldn't get beaten up for a few days?" Blackie replied with a bitter face. "Well, the folks behind me didn't mind. They thought it was fun to hit me instead and got a good laugh out of it. But the two guys up front didn't like it. Said I wasn't worthy to take the hits for Little Ray… and they really went hard on me."

Blackie looked deeply regretful. If he had known it would end like this, he never would've made that bold declaration.

"I didn't expect you all to be so united and caring."

Velen couldn't help but chuckle.

He had a real fondness for guards who had their own minds and strong bonds with each other.

"All right, from now on, you're sticking with me. If anything goes wrong during the auction, follow my lead."

"Blackie obeys!" Blackie dropped to one knee, his voice firm and respectful.

Outside the auction hall…

"Everyone, I know many of you don't believe our Stellar Auction actually has the legendary treasures we've claimed."

"But I, Sherlock, give you my word—if those items don't show up today, you're welcome to tear this entire auction house apart!"

The moment his words fell, the crowd erupted into whispers and gasps.

A lot of people had come just for the fun of it, expecting a hoax. But Sherlock's bold statement gave them serious pause—maybe this was real after all?

Back in the third-floor guest room, Velen sighed in disappointment.

"What's with the guarantees? Come if you want. Don't if you don't. No one begged them to be here. Why pamper them like this?"

"This kid Sherlock still needs some serious polishing."

"If it were Senator Sherlock in charge, he would've just yelled, 'Believe it or not, I don't care. Don't believe? Then get lost!'"

Velen made a mental note—once the auction ended, he'd have to properly educate his young auctioneer.

Moments later, Sherlock's voice rang out again:

"Due to limited space, only a portion of attendees will be allowed to bid. Selections will not be based on strength or wealth—just on whether I like your face!"

An explosion of noise tore through the crowd.

Veterans of countless auctions had never encountered such a bizarre rule before. Many felt insulted, especially mages from major fortresses or powerful lone cultivators.

Anastasia perked up. This style was unmistakably Velen's.

"Sherlock!" barked a middle-aged man in a gray robe. "You'd better take back what you just said. If not, you'll suffer the consequences. Even your father Selroc wouldn't dare behave this way!"

From the third-floor room, Velen took a sip of tea and casually said, "Blackie, deal with him. And from now on, stand beside Sherlock. Anyone who questions, protests, or threatens—eliminate them on the spot."

"Understood."

Blackie leapt from the window and landed silently at Sherlock's side.

Just as Sherlock opened his mouth to respond to the gray-robed man, a cold presence appeared beside him.

Blackie reached out and gave the man a light squeeze. A puff of blood mist exploded in the air—just like that, he was gone. The noisy crowd fell silent in an instant.

"His Highness Velen sent me," Blackie said to the stunned Sherlock. "You keep doing your thing. I'll handle the rest."

At that moment, an old man with a long white beard flew into the air, glaring at Sherlock with righteous fury.

"We came here with sincere intent to participate in the auction, and you're killing people at will? Is this what the Stellar Auction has become?!"

Someone in the crowd gasped and shouted, "That's Gantraven! The man who withstood six waves of thunder tide!"

Everyone's face changed instantly.

To withstand six thunder tides was a feat that commanded immense respect in the magical world.

But what terrified the crowd even more was that Blackie, once again, slowly raised his hand—this time, pointing directly at Gantraven.

Everyone held their breath.

Boom! Another burst of blood mist filled the air.

With a single move, even a thunder-tide veteran had been effortlessly slain. No struggle, no resistance—just obliteration.

Those who had planned to protest were now pale and trembling.

Anyone who dared question or threaten the auction house would be instantly eliminated. The ruthlessness of this system sent chills down their spines.

"Third one," Anastasia murmured, watching from the crowd, heart pounding. "That black-clad man… he must be that spendthrift's third guard."

Even she was shaken by Blackie's decisive execution.

On a distant rooftop, Ironback Centipede watched the whole thing with a sour face.

"That's it? Just a puff of blood? I can do that too!"

"One blast from my furnace and not only would there be blood mist, there'd be chunks of meat flying! This was my chance to shine, and I had to run into the lady…"

"Anyone else got a problem with how I pick participants?" Sherlock now shouted confidently, sweeping his gaze over the crowd.

No one dared respond.

With the atmosphere firmly under control, Sherlock began selecting bidders.

First, he pointed to Anastasia.

Then, he continued picking random people who simply caught his eye.

"That punk actually picked me?" Anastasia sneered as she stepped into the auction hall. "Well then, don't blame me for playing dirty."

This was her chance to shed the nickname "Walking Wallet."

Back in the guest room, Velen rubbed his chin in confusion.

"Why is my mentor joining this auction? She should've figured out it's my doing… Don't tell me she's trying to solidify her title as the Queen of Overbidding?"

Inside the auction hall, 300 participants had taken their seats.

All eyes were glued to the auction platform, hearts pounding in anticipation for the five legendary items to be unveiled.

"Before we begin, I need to explain the special rules for today's auction," Sherlock announced.

"On the table are five boxes. Inside each is a legendary treasure. On the bottom of each box is a word—that word determines the auction rule for that item. No more spoilers—let's start with the first one!"

He lifted the lid of the first box.

Inside were three shining Astral Aurum Stones.

The crowd inhaled sharply, eyes lighting up with desire.

"I bid one low-grade manacrystal," Anastasia said calmly.

The room froze.

One low-grade manacrystal?

People stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

That was an Astral Aurum Stone! Capable of absorbing thunder tides! And not just one, but three—and she was offering a single low-grade manacrystal?

Many suspected she was here to mess things up.

Sherlock nearly tripped over his own feet.

He knew the first item would be awarded to the lowest bidder, but he had assumed everyone would still bid their full net worth.

But this?

One crystal?

He could feel his heart bleeding at the thought of those three Astral Aurum Stones going for such a pathetic price.

Anastasia, meanwhile, looked around proudly.

"Speechless, huh? I'm not the walking wallet today! I'm here to wreck this thing!"

"100,000 low-grade manacrystals! That's my entire fortune! Anyone bids higher, I'm out!" a middle-aged man shouted.

"One million!"

"1.5 million!"

Bids began to roll in rapidly. The final price reached 8.8 million low-grade manacrystals.

"That fat guy is definitely the new sucker," Anastasia scoffed. "Three lousy rocks and he shelled out 8.8 million? Even if I had gotten them for one crystal, I'd still be a sucker."

She conveniently forgot that back in Chaos City, just one Astral Aurum Stone was worth 100,000 chaos points—or 100,000 advanced manacrystals.

Something felt off, though. No one else was bidding anymore, yet Sherlock hadn't struck the auctioneer's hammer.

Why?

What was going on?