Rage of the Dark City

Annual deposit interest of three percent? Annual loan interest of five percent? These rates are indeed more favorable than any money house in the market. But the question is—who would deposit spirit stones with someone who just shut down thirteen gambling dens?

"As for our first day of business—"

He pointed at the mountains of loot piled behind him, a glint flashing in his eyes.

"All these spoils will be converted into cash. Three days from now, the city lord's mansion will host a grand auction. A wide variety of items at fair prices, no cheating, no deception. Everyone is welcome to participate. Rare opportunity—miss it today, wait another year."

The managers of various merchant houses poked their heads out from doorways, their eyes fixed on the mountains of treasure lining the streets. Heaven-grade cultivation jade slips, top-grade spirit pills, rare divine materials, and even a few sinister artifacts ranked around a thousand—things that never appeared on the open market, now piled by the roadside like common street goods.

Wang Hao had cornered them ruthlessly—seized their businesses and now planned to resell their own goods at an auction, forcing every merchant house in the city to bid against each other. That way, he could quickly liquidate assets, drive up prices, and cozy up to the commercial powers of the city all at once. A triple win, black-hearted to the core.

Before the auction even began, some merchant houses started secretly conspiring to depress the prices. To that, Wang Hao just smiled and whispered a few words to Wei Zhongxian.

The next day, every merchant house in the city received an auction invitation from the Great Xia Emperor himself. The invitation made it clear: "This auction will offer 'Eastern Wasteland Partner' priority bidding rights. Merchant houses with deposits over 50 million spirit stones in the Imperial Treasury may enjoy a 20% discount at the auction and obtain first rights to mine resources in the Eastern Wasteland."

The news sent the entire city into uproar.

A deposit of 50 million spirit stones in exchange for a 20% discount and mining rights? The math worked out too well to pass up: the deposit was still their own money, available for withdrawal anytime, with three percent annual interest. The 20% discount meant they could snag rare items below market price at auction. And the mining rights in the Eastern Wasteland—those were solid, long-term gains.

In an instant, the alliance planning to suppress prices fell apart. No one was willing to ruin their chances in the huge Eastern Wasteland market just to shave a little off the bidding price.

After all, the Eastern Wasteland might be remote, but it was vast and rich in resources. It was once ignored because of the Central Region's blockade. Now that Wang Hao was a War God and flexing his power, with treaties already signed, the Eastern Wasteland market was bound to open up sooner or later. Whoever struck a deal with this emperor first would grab the biggest slice of the pie.

Within a single day, pre-deposits at the Imperial Treasury surged past one billion spirit stones. The number made Wang Hao laugh out loud, while the original money houses of the city fell into stunned silence.

Seize people's businesses, auction off their goods, get everyone to deposit money, and then use that money to go collect more debts. Make money from money, working the game even better than the money houses themselves. You could never guess what trick he'd pull next.

Meanwhile, in a secret chamber somewhere in the city, five figures in black robes sat around a stone table. On the table lay a recording stone showing footage of Wang Hao shutting down the gambling dens and giving his speech at the city gate. One of them pressed his hand on the stone, his hoarse voice trembling with barely contained fury.

"This Wang Hao really thinks that becoming a War God lets him do anything? He dares to touch the territory of Dark City and hangs our people on the city walls for all to see. He's literally pissing on the face of Dark City."

Another black-robed figure snorted coldly: "Let him have his fun. The Big Boss has spoken—the Eight-Gang Alliance of Dark City cannot let this slide. Today he shuts down our gambling dens, tomorrow he'll come for our headquarters? This isn't just about spirit stones anymore. It's about face."

"Notify headquarters and request reinforcements." The first speaker stood up, a pair of sinister eyes visible beneath his hood. "Dispatch the Shadow Guards. Teach him a lesson first. They say he has two War Gods? Let's see if they can defend against this."

The chamber's candle flame flickered suddenly, the fire shifting from orange to black, radiating a cold and eerie aura.

The fifth black-robed figure had remained silent throughout, polishing a jet-black short blade. Reflected on its surface was not his own face, but a pair of eyes made of pure darkness, devoid of any emotion.

That was the mark of the Shadow Guards—Dark City's deadliest assassination unit. Each Shadow Guard was a peak Imperial Ascension Realm expert, forged in mountains of blood, specializing in the killing arts. Once marked by a Shadow Guard, no one below War God level had ever survived seven days.

And this time, the Shadow Guard's target was a War God.

"So what if he's a War God?" The blade-wiping figure finally spoke, his voice flat as if discussing a trivial matter. "There are plenty of people in this city who want Wang Hao dead. All we need is a sharp enough pawn and a chaotic enough moment. Tell the Big Boss—the wrath of Dark City's Eight-Gang Alliance will burn all the way to the Eastern Wasteland's imperial throne."

Three days later, Southern Market of the city.

The continent's largest free market was experiencing its craziest day since its founding.

Before dawn, the streets of Southern Market were crammed with merchant caravans from across the world.

The camel trains of the Northern Snow Wolf Merchant Guild, the elephant caravans of the Southern Gu King Valley, the iron-armored wagons of the Western Blood Iron Trade Alliance, and the flying boats from the sacred lands of the Central Region—every notable merchant house had sent representatives. Some had even sailed from overseas islands, crossing the sea overnight just to make it to this unprecedented auction.

The manager of Southern Market's largest auction house had lived four hundred years and had never seen such a spectacle. Standing at the window on the fifth floor, he looked down at the sea of heads stretching from the market entrance all the way outside the city walls. The line of people snaked like a serpent, packing Southern Market so tight that no one could move.

"Everyone's lost their minds," he muttered.

"Not really," his deputy replied coolly. "Yesterday, the Great Xia Emperor released part of the auction list. Just the items listed already exceed our auction house's turnover for ten years. And there's one item—the grand finale."

He lowered his voice: "Rumors say it's an elixir that can make someone break through to War God.

" A chance to break through to the War God realm? Spirit-breaking pill?" the man asked

"I'm not sure. The list from the general's mansion just says 'a mysterious elixir that can help a late stage Imperial Ascension master break through their bottleneck.' It doesn't say it's a spirit-breaking pill, but it doesn't say it isn't."

Whether it was or not, those nine words—"help a late stage Imperial Ascension master break through their bottleneck"—were enough to drive every Imperial Ascension master at that level insane. And this news? Wang Hao had deliberately let Wei Zhongxian leak it.

At this moment, the Eastern Wilderness army was stationed in a temporary camp outside Jieyin City. The bonfires had burned for three days and three nights. Cavalry from the Mobei Legion and infantry from the Western Regions Legion sat in circles around the fires, one ring after another. Every face wore an uncontrollable excitement, like wolves catching the scent of meat.

"We're rich, we're rich!"

A Mobei chieftain of a thousand rubbed his hands together and shouted in broken Eastern Wilderness dialect.

"What did I tell you? Fighting under the Sacred Khan is a hell of a lot more profitable than herding sheep on the steppe! Three years without a kill, and one kill feeds you for thirty! Last time, when we hit the Northern Barbarian Court up in Mobei, we split so many cattle, sheep, and slaves I figured I was set for life. But this time, taking down that gambling den? We're not splitting spirit stones—we're splitting a whole mountain of them!"

"Look at you, thinking small." A military officer from the Western Regions Legion sneered, a scar running from his temple to his jaw—a memento from the fall of his homeland years ago. "Spirit stones? Those are nothing compared to what's on the auction list. Heavenly-grade cultivation techniques. The Sacred Khan said soldiers with merit can bid first, at a 30 percent discount. I've been stuck at the Air-Stepping Realm for eight years. If I can get my hands on a Heavenly-grade technique... heh heh."

"Heavenly-grade technique?"

A veteran from the Imperial Guard curled his lip in disdain, slowly wiping his long blade. "You guys missed what else the Sacred Khan said. He's setting up an Imperial Bank. Annual interest of three percent on deposits. Three percent! I'll put in all the spirit stones I've saved in my life. The interest alone every year will feed my whole family. And for Imperial Guardsmen, the rate goes up another point—four percent."

The camp fell silent for a moment. Then three soldiers from three different legions let out a meaningful sigh at the same time—a sigh laced with something close to devout reverence. Not the reverence you'd give a god of martial power, but the kind you give to an emperor who knows how to make money.

"Long live the Sacred Khan." The Mobei chieftain raised his wineskin, his face flushed red with genuine excitement. He wasn't faking it—he really believed he'd followed the right man. For a thousand years, the people of Mobei had been called barbarians by other tribes of the steppe, never treated as their own. But Wang Hao had drafted them into official legions, paid them wages, gave them a share of the spoils, and even let them earn interest on their savings.

"Long live the Sacred Khan!"

Hundreds of voices answered at once, exploding across the camp. The bonfires roared, their flames leaping thirty feet high as if shaken by the sound. Sparks burst into the night sky like a small fireworks display. Firelight illuminated every soldier's face, showing their expressions clear as day—the look of starving wolves catching sight of a mountain of meat, the manic hope of men held down too long, finally seeing their chance to rise.

In the center of the camp, inside the main tent, Wang Hao sat at his desk reviewing the preparation checklist for the auction. Hearing the cheers outside, he lifted his head to glance at the blazing firelight beyond the tent flap. The soldiers were still howling, wave after wave of noise, mingled with the neighing of horses and the trumpeting of war elephants.

"What's all the fuss about?"

Wei Zhongxian stood behind him and answered in a flat voice, "The soldiers of the Mobei Legion and the Western Regions Legion are shouting 'Long live the Sacred Khan.' After seeing the gambling den's treasury, they got too excited. In their own words, Jieyin City is filthy rich—richer than the Northern Barbarian Court and the Western Regions Palace combined. A few chieftains are already discussing whether to sneak into the Southern Market tonight and 'borrow' some things."

"Have the Imperial Guard keep order," Wang Hao said without looking up. "Tell them this isn't the time for looting. There'll be plenty of chances later. Once the auction is over and all the spoils are converted to cash, I'll distribute them according to military merit. Those who did well get more; those who did little get less. Anyone caught looting on their own will face military law." He paused, then added, "But don't crack down too hard. Just have the Imperial Guard stabilize their spirits. Don't let the men feel resentful. These people are used to running wild on the steppe and in the Western Regions. I brought them here to broaden their horizons. Once they've seen the prosperity of Jieyin City, when we march on the Dark City later, they won't need any pep talk—their eyes will be red with hunger on their own."

Wei Zhongxian acknowledged the order and was about to turn and leave to relay the command when the tent flap was suddenly thrown open.