Meanwhile, down in the cargo hold beneath the auction house, a very different scene was unfolding.
Huge iron cages were arranged in dense rows, and the air was filled with an atmosphere of fear and despair.
The cages held tonight’s “merchandise,” soon to be brought onto the auction stage.
Their races varied, their ages differed, but all shared the same numb, terrified, hopeless eyes.
In one cage in the corner, a white-haired man sat on the ground with his back against the bars, Rayleigh.
He held a flat flask in his hand, drinking occasionally, his expression relaxed as if he were lounging in his own backyard.
Apart from the explosive collar around his neck, a clear mark of his status as “merchandise,” he hardly looked like a slave awaiting auction.
Setting down the flask, Rayleigh reached up and touched the cold explosive collar, clicking his tongue softly.
“Tch… been a while since I wore one of these.
Feels a little tight this time.
But the craftsmanship and design are exactly the same as ever.
No improvements at all.”
Then, listening to the muffled auction noises and Disco’s enthusiastic shouting filtering through layers of soundproofing, Rayleigh’s lips curved slightly.
“Go ahead and have your fun.
You won’t be laughing soon enough.”
…
On the auction stage, Disco skillfully stirred up the atmosphere.
After a few decent “regular goods” were sold and the crowd had warmed up, he clapped his hands and announced with a mysterious smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen!
Our next item is a little surprise for tonight!
Behold the princess of the Longarm Tribe!”
The curtain was pulled back, revealing a tall Longarm woman dressed in an imitation luxurious royal gown.
She was beautiful, but her hollow eyes were filled with deep terror, and her long arms stood out sharply under the spotlight.
Disco had deliberately dressed her to resemble royalty, instantly igniting many buyers’ curiosity and collector instincts.
“Starting bid, five million berries,” Disco announced loudly.
Bids flew thick and fast.
The wealthy showed considerable interest in this “special collectible,” and the price quickly climbed past ten million berries.
Just as competition intensified, Saint Charlos, who had been sitting on the platform with snot running from his nose while looking around aimlessly, was suddenly stirred by the excitement.
He waved his bidding paddle excitedly and shouted, “I’ll pay thirty million berries!
I want her!
That long-armed freak looks fun!”
The hall fell silent for a moment.
No matter how much money others had, no one dared bid against a Celestial Dragon.
Several buyers immediately withdrew their bids and lowered their heads, some even convincing themselves that thirty million was too much for a Longarm slave anyway.
Disco’s face lit up with a grin.
He loved decisive buyers like this, especially Celestial Dragons who always paid far above expectations.
“Thirty million!
Saint Charlos bids thirty million berries!
Any higher?
Going once, going twice…”
Just as he raised his gavel.
“Sorry, but the auction ends here.”
A calm but clear male voice suddenly echoed from above the hall, cutting through the entire auction floor.
Everyone, including the Celestial Dragons, Disco, and all guests, instinctively looked up toward the dome.
There, in the shadows behind the main spotlight rig, sat a figure no one had noticed arriving.
A black cloak covered his body, his hood hid his form, but the cow-cat mask on his face was clearly visible.
“The… the Black Cat Sheriff?!”
“How did he get up there?!”
“Where are the guards?
The Marines?!”
The hall erupted in chaos.
Fear returned instantly.
No one could understand how this madman dared appear here in front of the Celestial Dragons.
Disco froze.
His gavel hung mid-air.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Every entrance was guarded.
Every vent was covered.
Surveillance Den Den Mushi everywhere.
He should not be here.
But before he could react further, he forced himself to regain composure, pointing upward and shouting.
“Guards!
Seize this intruder immediately!”
However,
“Ohhh!
That mask!
It’s him!”
Saint Charlos suddenly stood up, pointing at Moren with excitement.
“Go!
Capture him!
I want him!
Lock him with that long-armed freak.
He’ll be my new toy!”
To him, this was not danger.
It was entertainment.
Saint Rosward frowned but said nothing.
He didn’t care.
That was the Celestial Dragons’ arrogance.
Beside him, Shalulia adjusted her sunglasses and said calmly.
“Hurry up.
Don’t let him escape.
I want to see what’s so special about this ‘Black Cat’.”
“I saw him first!” Charlos shouted.
“Whoever catches him owns him,” Shalulia replied coldly.
The two Celestial Dragons began arguing over who would “own” Moren.
The crowd felt an absurd chill.
To them, the “Black Cat Sheriff,” who seemed like death itself, was just another collectible toy.
The atmosphere twisted into something grotesque.
Some even began to wonder, if the Celestial Dragons weren’t afraid, why should they be?
But then,
Beep… beep… beep…
A sharp, rhythmic electronic beeping suddenly came from beneath the Celestial Dragons’ seats.
The sound was faint, but in the suddenly quieter hall, it was deafening.
The bodyguards froze.
They knew that sound.
A timed detonation device.
“I said the auction ends here,” the voice echoed again from the dome.
“And you on the platform, and the ones in black around you…”
“I suggest you don’t move.”
“Unless you want to be blown to pieces.”