Translator: AnubisTL
Once suspicion had taken root in his mind, Chen Jiang acted without hesitation, immediately pouring all his blood sacrifice points into the purchase. After all, the difference between 42,000 one-star items and 50,000 one-star items was negligible in terms of qualitative improvement for him.
Only then did he glance with a hint of regret at the remaining stock of Coughing Flamethrowers. This one-star item still had 7,479 units left.
Unfortunately, with no blood sacrifice points remaining, he could only watch helplessly as over 7,000 one-star items slipped through his fingers.
But it didn't matter much. Losing 7,000 one-star items wouldn't significantly impact him.
Afterward, Chen Jiang gazed with satisfaction at his space bracelet, now brimming with loot. He anticipated that after this event concluded, his turrets would undergo a qualitative transformation.
If only there were more events like this, he thought.
Feng Jiutian is truly a benefactor.
This event is perfect for me.
If more events like this were triggered, I might actually hesitate to kill Feng Jiutian when we eventually meet.
He's not a stumbling block on my path to success at all—he's actually a noble benefactor guiding my rise to power!
The situation unfolded exactly as he had predicted.
The moment he swept up all four items in one go, he immediately drew attention.
After all, the words "Human Player Chen Jiang" were simply too glaring to ignore!
The players who noticed this didn't hesitate for a moment. They swarmed the last remaining item—the Coughing Flamethrower—and began snapping up the dwindling stock.
They had no idea what the thing was for.
But if Chen Jiang had bought so many, it must be something good.
Meanwhile, Feng Jiutian, still reeling from the shock, stared at the damaged wooden sword, its stock having instantly plummeted to zero. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then leaped to his feet, his expression twisted with fury.
Line after line of text scrolled frantically across the information stream panel: "Human Player Chen Jiang has purchased this item!"
Those two familiar words stabbed into his pupils like a pair of sharp swords.
With the damaged wooden sword now out of stock, Feng Jiutian's breathing quickened. On the verge of mental collapse, he muttered urgently to himself, "There's still a chance... there's still a chance."
"There are still four other items."
However—
Opening the item panel for the "Triggerless Pistol," the inventory showed zero.
Purchaser: Human Player Chen Jiang.
Feng Jiutian's breathing quickened slightly, his bloodshot eyes betraying no hesitation as he opened the next item panel.
"Magic-Drained Staff"
"Inventory: (0/10,000)"
Inventory: zero. Purchaser: Human Player Chen Jiang.
As if defying fate, Feng Jiutian's hand trembled slightly as he opened the next item panel.
"Hammer Without a Handle"
The inventory remained at zero.
On the adjacent information stream panel, a relentless cascade of gray-white text flashed across the screen: "Human Player Chen Jiang has purchased this item." The words pierced Feng Jiutian's eyes like needles.
"Ha ha..."
Feng Jiutian let out a hollow laugh, his eyes bloodshot. His body suddenly froze in mid-air as he stared at the final item.
"Coughing Flamethrower"
He suddenly realized it was all a joke.
The Ten Thousand Races Arena was a joke, he, Feng Jiutian, was a joke, everything was a joke.
He could already predict the inventory of the Coughing Flamethrower.
Zero.
And beside it, a scrolling line of text would relentlessly repeat: "Purchaser: Human Player Chen Jiang."
With a bitter smile, he raised his hand to click on the Coughing Flamethrower's item panel.
The numbers before him were quite unexpected.
[Coughing Flamethrower]
[Inventory: (5792/10,000)]
The inventory wasn't empty; nearly 6,000 units remained!
Feng Jiutian, who had been on the verge of despair, suddenly saw a glint of hope in his eyes. His deathly pale face regained a hint of color as he leaped to his feet.
Without hesitation, he claimed all 5,792 remaining Coughing Flamethrowers.
Huff.
Only after securing the flamethrowers did Feng Jiutian's face regain a faint glow. Though his complexion remained poor, at least he no longer looked like death warmed over.
He hadn't lost. Nearly 6,000 Coughing Flamethrowers were now his.
He simply hadn't won decisively, but he hadn't lost either.
Just then—
Yan Pomen suddenly sent Feng Jiutian another communication request.
"Feng Jiutian, the plan failed this time."
"I didn't lose!" Feng Jiutian interrupted urgently, his voice frantic. "I exchanged for nearly 6,000 Coughing Flamethrowers. That's not a loss! At least I secured a portion."
"Thank goodness I have sharp eyes and quick hands, or we wouldn't have even managed to snatch these flamethrowers."
As the words faded, Yan Pomen's voice came softly through the communication screen after a long silence.
"It takes 9,000 Coughing Flamethrowers to fuse into a three-star item."
"6,000 Coughing Flamethrowers are completely useless."
"We didn't just lose; we also wasted 6,000 blood sacrifice points."
"Feng Jiutian, you were in charge of this operation. Someone will be looking for you soon."
"Prepare yourself mentally."
After Yan Pomen's words, Feng Jiutian finally snapped out of his daze. His face, which had regained some color moments ago, instantly turned deathly pale again, as if by magic. His eyes filled with despair and disbelief.
He stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at his feet.
How could I have lost again?
This time, the plan had been flawless.
How could we have failed?
He had even exchanged 6,000 completely useless Coughing Flamethrowers.
Now, the pile of 6,000 Coughing Flamethrowers lying nearby seemed to mock him, slowly collapsing in the gentle breeze.
Then, they buried the subordinate standing beside him.
Meanwhile, in a grassy field outside a mountain valley...
Zhao Ritian sat sprawled on the ground, his eyes blazing with fury as he cursed the heavens.
"Are you all out of your minds? Why are you fighting over a flamethrower that only spits phlegm?!"
"Huh?"
"My dream of becoming the Great Slime Emperor... shattered by a bunch of peasants!"
Just moments ago, in a matter of seconds, Human Player Chen Jiang had swept up over 2,000 Coughing Flamethrowers.
Immediately afterward, other alien race players swarmed in, scrambling to buy the remaining stock.
Mechanical Race Player Feng Jiutian then snatched up the final 6,000 units.
In the blink of an eye, the original stockpile of 10,000 flamethrowers had vanished, leaving the inventory at zero.
Zhao Ritian, who had been obsessively monitoring the Coughing Flamethrower inventory, immediately spent all his blood sacrifice points, managing to acquire only 28 flamethrowers.
His original plan had been to buy all the flamethrowers, transforming himself into the Great Slime Emperor.
But now...
His plan had clearly failed.
Zhao Ritian flopped onto a nearby slime, propped his hands behind his head, and glared at the sky, muttering curses under his breath.
"Peasants! Peasants! They're all just fucking peasants!"
"A bunch of peasants!"
"You've ruined my path to becoming the Great Slime Emperor!"
(End of the Chapter)
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