"What is that? A healing potion?"

"Are you joking? No healing potion comes in that color."

The host didn't explain immediately, instead letting the guests discuss among themselves. This was his tried-and-true tactic to build interest and maximize profits during the bidding phase.

Once the murmurs from the audience subsided, he continued:

"This is a luxury item called perfume, provided by a lady from the capital. As for its effects, I believe a demonstration would be most convincing."

The host unscrewed the cap and applied some of the pink liquid to the necks and arms of two nearby maids.

These two maids, provocatively dressed and beautiful, walked through the crowd with seductive steps. They too were merchandise, available for purchase if any distinguished guest desired them.

Wherever they passed, they left behind an intoxicating fragrance that lingered in the air.

"This is...!"

"Quick! Buy it!"

"I must have this! You have to get it for me!"

The crowd immediately erupted in excitement, especially the female guests, who seemed completely defenseless against the fragrance.

Meanwhile, the sharp-eyed merchants had already discerned the true nature of this so-called perfume.

"This perfume thing is quite interesting."

"What perfume? This is pure gold in liquid form!"

Siegfried, seated in a shadowy corner of the hall, couldn't suppress a smile.

Yes, this item was his - or rather, something he had cleverly obtained from Yang Jing.

Earlier, when he saw Yang Jing take out this bottle of Chanel from her inventory, he had already formed a plan.

Although Shannon had said that technological products from other eras couldn't be removed from the inventory, perfume apparently didn't fall into that category.

After much persuasion, Siegfried finally acquired this bottle of Chanel from Yang Jing, despite her obvious disgust. (He would owe her two bottles later.)

Yang Jing's task this time was to negotiate with the organizers to add this item to the auction at the last minute.

The negotiation had clearly succeeded - quite an achievement for that expressionless beauty.

"I believe you now understand the value of perfume. But please, don't be hasty. What we're auctioning is not this bottle of perfume, but rather..."

The host paused deliberately before continuing:

"Its formula."

At this moment, Siegfried could clearly hear the collective intake of breath around him.

"How much money did you bring?"

"Not nearly enough. I came for the final item. Damn it, who could have predicted such a business opportunity?"

"Forget that one. We must secure this formula at any cost."

The crowd, especially the merchants, was in an uproar.

They understood that the production cost of this perfume was likely minimal, and they knew that once it became widespread, imitators would emerge.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

But they also realized that whoever obtained the formula first would have the chance to monopolize this new product's market, potentially becoming one of the leading merchant guilds in the Kingdom of Moen or even across the continent.

As for whether the perfume would sell?

A foolish question. One look at the ladies present, practically salivating, answered that.

"The starting bid is 500,000 gold moens, with minimum increments of 10,000. Though expensive, I trust you understand its value."

Five hundred thousand was merely the opening price. Acquiring the technique to craft this luxury item and marketing it to nobility and the upper class would yield annual returns far exceeding this amount.

If they could develop an affordable version for common people, the profits would be astronomical.

"550,000!"

"600,000!"

"700,000!"

Bids flew from the audience as soon as the host finished speaking.

Siegfried participated too, adding 10,000 whenever bidding seemed to slow, drawing mockery from others.

People assumed this nouveau riche had exhausted his funds earlier, hence his modest bids.

Watching the rapidly climbing prices, Siegfried could barely contain his grin.

In his twenty-plus years, he'd never seen money flow so easily. So this was the power of being a transmigrator - absolutely fantastic!

Just then, a leisurely voice cut through the chaos:

"Enough. One million."

The venue fell silent for the first time. All eyes turned to the middle-aged man who had spoken.

He was corpulent and broad-shouldered, every inch the wealthy merchant. A cigar rested between his fingers, occasionally releasing white smoke rings.

The Wanderer's Manual displayed his name: Kortman.

Siegfried's eyebrows twitched. The target had taken the bait.

Kortman, a slave trader, was the provider of the auction's final item and the true target of this plan.

The perfume formula was merely bait. Siegfried didn't actually possess Chanel's formula - if he had, he'd be manufacturing perfume himself rather than participating in this auction. He'd even thought of a brand name: Siegnel.

The corpulent middle-aged man stood up, removed his mask, and bowed to the crowd, announcing loudly:

"Good evening, everyone. I am Kortman. Our guild provided the final item in today's auction.

I believe you're all familiar with our line of business. I hope you'll extend me this courtesy - in return, you'll all enjoy preferential rates in future dealings with our guild."

Though his gestures were courteous, his tone dripped with arrogance, clearly considering the formula already his.

The crowd fell silent. Not for the promised discounts, but out of wariness toward the figure behind the slave trading guild.

For this guild to operate the slave trade in the southern region as mere commoners, they must have powerful backing.

In truth, Kortman and his guild were merely extensions of that person - the true operator of the slave trade.

Now that Kortman had bid, this fat man who'd remained silent all evening had finally shown his hand for this formula.

The message was clear: his master wanted the perfume formula.

"What's their problem? Isn't their business big enough already?"

"Quiet! Do you have a death wish?"

Whispers rippled through the crowd, everyone angry but afraid to speak out.

Not only were they outmatched in power, but they were also on enemy territory. Any real conflict might prove fatal.

Siegfried was seething. He'd estimated the formula could fetch at least 3 million or more, but this fat bastard's single statement had evaporated half that potential.

(You dog, blocking someone's wealth is like killing their parents. Just wait and see how I deal with you later.)

"One million once, one million twice, one million three times!

Sold!"

The host's gavel fell with unusual speed, as if fearing another bid.

(Keep hammering away. There won't be any formula, of course. But the money - that stays.)

Finally, the auction neared its end, signaling the arrival of "the one" everyone had been discussing.

The audience held their breath. More than half had come specifically for this final item.

They'd brought the majority of their wealth, determined to secure this last piece at any cost.

"The final item!"

Accompanying the host's elevated voice came the sharp clinking of iron chains.

A muscular demi-human guard approached, holding two iron chains. At the other ends were two beautiful girls who looked like divine creations.

"A pair of young high elf twins! Starting price: 3 million gold moens, minimum bid increments of 100,000 gold moens."