Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Divine Radiance Auction

When it came to the name of this game, Wu Hua couldn’t help but feel exasperated. When he first registered on the official homepage, he intended to name himself “Storm,” wanting to be a man as swift and free as the wind. But a slip of the hand turned it into “Exploding Madness,” making him someone who was explosively driven to madness.

“Sogou Pinyin really is full of issues,” Wu Hua grumbled as he logged in.

It was already evening in Dreamstar City. Under the pitch-black sky, a torrential rain was pouring down. The game world had its weather changes too. The downpour wouldn’t harm players, but if you insisted on getting drenched, you’d still catch a cold and come down with a fever, forcing you to lie in a city hospital and trade your credit points for health. The game company wasn’t foolish; even the weather was cleverly devised to drain your money.

Wu Hua darted under the shelter at the taxi stand to escape the rain. There were several friend messages on his receiver, the loudest being from Tu Tao and Ri Wan, averaging one every hour.

Ten hours ago, Ri Wan had messaged: “Online yet?”

Nine hours ago, Tu Tao: “Did you die in your sleep? Get online, we’re leveling up at Frostbrook Path. Moto, Flying Girl, and the rest of us are together—just missing you.”

Eight hours ago, Ri Wan: “Still not online?”

Seven hours ago, Tu Tao: “Damn it, get your ass online already!”

Four hours ago, Ri Wan: “Damn it, we’re all back. We’re drinking. Come join us, and don’t say we didn’t invite you.”

One hour ago, both Tu Tao and Ri Wan: “Damn it, we’re logging off…”

Wu Hua couldn’t help but burst out laughing. After a good laugh, he suddenly remembered the equipment in his backpack. He hurriedly opened it, and after a moment, made a grand decision—to take a cab to the underground black market to find Mount Mao the Trickster.

Perhaps because of the rain, the underground black market was rather deserted that night. Few electronic service signs were lit, and players were scattered about. But at Trickster’s stall in Block D, Unit B5, it was bright as day.

Aside from Trickster himself, a young man in a business suit stood at the stall, constantly reaching out to accept items Trickster handed over, examining each before tossing them back with a running commentary:

“No good.”

“Still not good.”

“This one… barely acceptable. Pity there’s no hidden slot.”

“Sigh, what is this stuff? The stats are terrible. No way this will make it to the auction house, and selling it to the mall is a waste. Why have you been bringing me all this third-rate gear these past few days?”

The young man’s impatience was palpable, but Trickster didn’t dare slack off, nodding and smiling ingratiatingly. “Mr. Guang, honestly, these items aren’t bad. You know, our usual suppliers are all off on survival missions these days, so stock’s been tight. Look at these… Come on, we’re old friends—help me out, get these into Divine Light…”

The young man called Mr. Guang’s expression soured. “Divine Light has its rules. Rules can’t be broken. Even if I’m the big boss, there’s nothing I can do if your goods aren’t up to par.”

Wu Hua, observing the scene, immediately understood—this was someone from the auction house buying up black market stock. The auction house also needed sources for its gear. The best items were usually hunted by their own people, or acquired through connections with top players, while regular high-quality items were sourced by managers like this.

Clearly, Mr. Guang was a procurement manager for Divine Light Auction House, and Trickster was one of his suppliers.

Wu Hua sensed an opportunity and hurried over, shouting, “Hu Hanshan is back!”

Trickster, seeing Wu Hua, greeted him with a grin. “Hey, Brother Explode’s here again! Did you blow all your gear to bits this time? Welcome, welcome, have a seat.”

Wu Hua shot him an annoyed look. This guy had only one wish—that you’d blow up all your equipment every day so you’d come to him for replacements.

Glancing at Mr. Guang, Wu Hua said, “Hey, big brother, I have an item here. Interested?”

“And you are?” Mr. Guang hesitated.

Trickster quickly explained, “This is my old customer, Brother Explode. He supplied that Fire Dragon Armor last time.”

Mr. Guang’s eyes lit up immediately. “I’ve heard much about you!”

He certainly had—the Fire Dragon Armor and Fire Dragon Boots had fetched 63,000 credits at Divine Light’s auction, a small fortune.

“Pleased to meet you,” Wu Hua thought to himself, I’m not famous at all, what’s there to have heard about?

Mr. Guang said, “You must be an expert. May I ask what sort of item you have?”

Without further ado, Wu Hua produced the Snowy Night Fairy’s boots. Mr. Guang examined them for a few seconds, then stood there dumbfounded for a good half-minute.

Trickster wasn’t stupid. Seeing Mr. Guang’s dazed look, he knew Wu Hua had brought another top-tier item.

“Dark gold?” Trickster started fantasizing.

Mr. Guang paid him no mind. He straightened, composed himself, and said, “Mr. Explode, hello. My name is Lifelong Bachelor, customer service manager at Divine Light Auction House.”

“An honor,” Wu Hua replied. “Your name, Mr. Bachelor, is truly admirable.”

“Would you be interested in coming to our auction house for a chat? My car is right outside,” Lifelong Bachelor invited, determined to keep Wu Hua at all costs—he knew his month’s performance depended on Wu Hua’s business.

Divine Light Auction House was fairly well-known in Dreamstar City, largely because of its low fees—just 4% per transaction, three points lower than its competitors. This had earned it the hostility of the major houses, so the company adopted a strategy of exclusivity: only the best equipment would be sold, attracting a loyal clientele characterized by two traits: wealth and skill.

Inside Divine Light’s elegant meeting room, Lifelong Bachelor personally brewed Wu Hua a cup of coffee. “Please have a seat, Mr. Explode. I’ll contact my boss. This item of yours is extraordinary—I’m afraid there are things I can’t decide on my own.”

Wu Hua nodded and began to admire the murals on the walls—each depicting equipment the company had successfully auctioned. After a while, he understood why Divine Light’s reputation never quite soared: the best item they’d sold so far was only purple grade.

At the meeting room door, Lifelong Bachelor pulled out his receiver, considered, then switched to a video call. “Hello, Boss Shen? It’s Xiao Guang. I just got hold of a blue-grade item with incredible stats. Please come to the office—the seller’s here waiting.”

On the other end, the scene was chaotic and noisy, likely a nightclub or karaoke bar. Boss Shen sounded annoyed. “How many times have I told you? No drinking while you’re out procuring items, but you never listen!”

Lifelong Bachelor protested, “Boss, you’re wronging me! I haven’t been drinking. I’m really at the office, and this is serious—the seller’s here in our meeting room.”

Boss Shen’s tone turned urgent—it seemed he realized this wasn’t a joke. “Alright, keep him there. I’ll be right over.”

Twenty minutes later, Boss Shen, sporting a beer belly, sat across from Wu Hua, scrutinizing the boots for a long time before returning them. “Mr. Explode, if you’d like to consign these boots to our auction, we can sign an electronic contract right now. Our company can advance you 50,000 credits as a deposit. You won’t lose out.”

Wu Hua could tell Boss Shen was an expert—he hadn’t thrown out a wild offer. If he’d sold the boots to Trickster, the most he’d get was 50,000 credits.

“I have one condition,” Wu Hua said leisurely.

“Please, go ahead,” Boss Shen replied.

“I’m in urgent need of a new weapon. Does Divine Light have anything good?”

“May I ask your class, Mr. Explode?”

“Gunslinger!”