Novel Full Chapter 1080 - 1080: Not even 10%?!
As Kent gave command, the elder casted the portal again.
The starlit portal created like a wound torn open in space itself.
One by one, the companions of Kent stepped forward, their shadows stretching long in the portal’s glow. Amelia of the Yang Clan. Maya of the Poison Sect, serene yet dangerous, the faint scent of toxins lingering on her robes. Sophia of the Chen Family, elegant as a moonlit orchid. Lucy of the Gray Family from Silver Leaf Town, calm and steady, her posture betraying her merchant-blood instincts.
Then Lana, daughter of the Moonbrook Family of Golden Bamboo City, her aura soft yet radiant like the bamboo groves of her homeland. Jia Ron, Kent’s closest aide, walked with the quiet devotion of a shadow bound by loyalty. Behind him skipped Tata Lan, the fierce lolli whose eyes burned with childish defiance and boundless energy.
The two Dragon Twin Sisters followed, their aura feral and unrestrained, their very presence whispering of lightning and scale. Fatty Ben came waddling, his round form shaking, his hand tightly clutching that of his loyal wife—her eyes proud, her back straight, a perfect balance to his comical frame.
At the rear, two figures stood apart in silence—Thea, Kent’s past, the unresolved flame of his destiny, her heart heavy with secrets, and Lily, her sister, whose eyes burned with suspicion and fierce protectiveness.
Together they crossed into the portal.
Inside, the treasury blazed with the light of suspended suns. Endless shelves stretched into darkness, holding relics, weapons, tomes, and artifacts gathered by countless generations of the Syndicate.
Spirit beasts sealed in crystals snarled in silence, pills older than nations pulsed faintly, and swords whispered as though dreaming of blood.
At the center stood Kent, his white robes flowing in the celestial glow, and beside him, the Sixth Elder, smiling faintly with both courtesy and calculation.
“Golden Heir, Your companions may select as well, under your supervision. But remember—the greater the number of treasures taken, the heavier the price. Wealth is never free.”
Kent inclined his head slightly. “We are ready.”
At his words, Amelia stepped forward first. Her sharp eyes darted over the pedestals, finally settling on a jade slip shimmering with red light. “The Blazing Sun Sutra,” she said softly.
Maya, serene, walked next, her fingers hovering over a sealed vial of green liquid that hissed as if alive. “The Emerald Venom Core,” she murmured. “Perfect for the path of poison.”
Sophia paused before a flowing silk robe woven of threads that glowed like starlight. “The Moon-Weave Robe. A shield for those who walk beside me.”
Lucy’s merchant instinct led her to a small golden tablet, unassuming yet thrumming with wealth. She smiled faintly. “The Ledgers of Eternal Trade. With this, no deal is ever loss.”
Lana picked a flute carved from golden bamboo, its sound faintly resonant even in silence. “The Spirit-Binding Flute.”
Jia Ron, loyal as ever, bypassed riches and weapons, choosing a simple dagger of black steel, its edge unremarkable to others. He bowed. “The Silent Fang. Enough for a shadow like me.”
Tata Lan darted ahead, pointing at a massive hammer far taller than her. “That one!” she declared fiercely. The treasury trembled as the hammer resonated, recognizing her spirit. The Sixth Elder’s brows lifted in surprise, but he said nothing.
The Dragon Twin Sisters strode to a pair of coiled chains glowing with lightning. As their hands touched, the chains awakened, crackling with stormfire. The air filled with draconic roars. They smiled—feral, dangerous.
Fatty Ben waddled around, humming, until his wife tugged him toward a chest brimming with spiritual cooking treasures—rare herbs, divine spices, and even a pan forged of phoenix steel. “This will feed us for lifetimes!” he exclaimed, eyes glowing. His wife rolled hers, but said nothing.
Finally, Thea walked silently through the shelves. Her fingers hovered over a dark tome bound with golden seals, but she drew back. Instead, she took a simple crystal pendant, glowing softly. Lily, watching, chose a grand master rank whip.
By the time all had chosen, the treasury glowed less brightly, as if its heart had been plundered. The Sixth Elder’s smile widened, though his eyes were sharp.
“The choices are made. Now comes the price.” He raised his staff, and golden script floated into the air, tallying itself.
“Three hundred thousand mana crystals.”
The words struck the chamber like thunder. Gasps erupted from Kent’s companions. Even Amelia’s eyes widened. Thea’s lips parted in shock. The Dragon Twins hissed.
Fatty Ben’s jaw dropped. The price was greater than what they earned through Golden rat Gambling house.
The Sixth Elder’s smile turned sly. “Three hundred thousand… a sum that could bankrupt nations. Few heirs in history have dared pay such a debt in one lifetime. Golden Heir, you may keep the treasures now, and owe the Syndicate until your last breath. Indebted to us.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. Indebted meant chained. Even a Golden Heir could be bound by the Syndicate’s shadow.
The elder’s smile deepened. “What say you, Kent King?”
Kent’s expression never changed. He walked forward, his steps echoing like drums. From his sleeve, he drew out a single storage ring, its surface plain. Without a word, he pressed his palm against it.
The ring glowed—then cracked.
And from its core poured rivers of light. One crystal, two, ten, a hundred—then thousands. The floor filled with mana crystals, spilling like a flood. His companions cried out in disbelief as the tide grew higher.
With a single flick of Kent’s finger, the crystals piled into a glittering mountain, rising taller than a man. The number was exact—three hundred thousand.
Everyone froze.
The Sixth Elder’s eyes widened, his composure faltering for the first time. The other companions stood speechless, staring at the glittering mountain of wealth that could have bought entire nations.
Kent turned, his voice steady, his tone cold. “This is not even ten percent of my wealth.”
The words echoed like thunder, crushing arrogance, silencing awe, shattering disbelief.
He turned on his heel, his companions following, their chosen treasures secured. Fatty Ben waddled behind, his grin so wide it nearly split his face.
The Sixth Elder remained rooted, staring at the mountain, his staff trembling faintly in his hand. For all his centuries, for all the wealth of the Syndicate, never had he seen such casual, crushing affluence.
And as Kent’s figure vanished through the portal, his words lingered like a brand:
“Not even ten percent.”
The elder’s heart pounded.