Just four bids.
In an instant, the price of this single piece of information—which had no physical asset accompanying it—was pushed to eleven million dollars by the European woman.
This was the unique art of a King family auction.
They always ensured that for every single item, there were at least two clients who desperately wanted it. If only one client was interested, they wouldn't put the item up for open bidding; instead, they would hold onto it and wait for the right price.
From this perspective, Locke was genuinely curious how the King family had managed to stay afloat for so long.
What a pity.
'You could have kept going for much longer.'
Locke thought to himself.
Then, he heard Rosa beside him raise her paddle once more, her voice utterly cold. "Twenty million!"
Instantly, Rosa became the center of attention yet again, drawing the gaze of everyone in the room, including the Western European woman.
Locke was becoming increasingly curious.
"The King family only delivers the goods once they see the payment cleared."
"I know."
Locke raised an eyebrow. "You have that kind of money?"
"No."
"..."
Rosa lowered her voice and murmured, "Lend it to me first. I'll return it to you with interest. It won't take more than two hours."
Locke had a sudden epiphany.
Alright.
Rosa hadn't just shown up today thinking she would play a game of empty-handed white wolf; she had planned this long in advance, fully prepared to rob the rich to feed the poor. Specifically, robbing the wealth of the King family to feed the impoverished Brotherhood!
This could be considered a grand tradition of the Brotherhood assassins; they had been doing exactly this since the Middle Ages.
The European woman across the room raised her paddle once more without a change in expression, but right after doing so, she took a satellite phone handed over by a nearby bodyguard.
After a moment.
Even Locke couldn't clearly hear what the woman was saying to the person on the other end. He could swear that the language used on the phone just now was completely unfamiliar. It was a language Locke hadn't even dabbled in, a new tongue that even his high-level linguistic skills couldn't decipher.
'Is this a dialect from some remote corner of the world?'
Locke thought to himself.
Shortly after, Francis on the auction stage brought down the gavel with an excited expression. "Twenty-five million, sold!"
Following the fall of the gavel, the European woman cast a brief glance at Rosa. Then, turning around under the escort of two black-clad bodyguards, she chose to leave directly.
Locke's peripheral vision followed her.
When he first entered, his very first glance had been directed at that European woman because, just like him, she hadn't chosen to converse with anyone else upon arriving. Instead, she had stood quietly in place with her arms crossed.
People like that had only one objective: they came exclusively for the item they wanted to bid on.
And now? She just gave up like that.
Furthermore...
Locke looked at Rosa beside him and whispered, "Is that Western European woman a remnant of the Templars?"
Rosa shook her head. "Doesn't seem like it. She looked at me just now."
"And?"
"She's proud. The Templar Order is proud too, but her pride is different. It's a mix of three parts contempt, three parts indifference, and four parts open hostility."
"...So?"
"I don't know," Rosa replied, shaking her head. "But she shouldn't be a Templar. After all, the Fruit of Eden—the Golden Apple—isn't a secret known only to a handful of us."
Locke nodded.
That was true enough. Regardless of whether HYDRA cared about this Golden Apple, since S.H.I.E.L.D. already knew about it, it wouldn't be surprising for any other organized group to find out.
Whatever. Who cared? Even if there was trouble, it would be the Brotherhood's trouble. The moment he took off his glasses, he was just a high school student named Locke. This trouble wouldn't find its way to his head.
Locke thought to himself.
Soon, the figures on the auction stage swapped places.
By this time, nine guests in the hall had already departed. Five of them were clients who had failed in their bidding and chose to leave immediately, while the other four had gone to the back to swipe their cards and collect their goods.
Tyler King took the stage.
Francis King, meanwhile, was fastening his buttons as he walked up to Rosa with a slightly flushed face. "Ms. Ada..."
Rosa's expression remained neutral. "Wait a moment."
Francis King froze. What was the meaning of this? Regretting the bid?
Standing beside her, Locke looked at Francis King and spoke directly, "I would like to chat with Ms. Ada for a moment, if I may?"
Looking at Locke through his sunglasses, Francis King felt his heart skip a beat. Then, he smiled. "Of course you may. However..."
With a swift movement of her right hand, Rosa handed a bank card over to Francis.
Francis's eyes lit up. This was exactly what he wanted. It didn't matter if Rosa went to the back or not, as long as the card was present. They offered on-site card-swiping services here.
Watching Francis depart, Locke smiled and looked at Rosa. "Didn't you say you had no money?"
Rosa replied, "This happens to be all that's left. If it had gone any higher, I really would have had to borrow from you. I didn't mean to hide it from you, but the fact that you were willing to lend me the money is great. You didn't join us because you agreed with our creed, but I believe that sooner or later, you will come to accept it."
Why does this sound like she's raising a death flag?
This sum of money was the Brotherhood's operational fund. It was the hard-earned blood money they had made recently by running around various parts of the US, taking on assassination contracts for the Continental Hotel similar to what Locke did.
Locke smiled, watching Tyler King conduct the auction on stage, and spoke to Rosa. "Go ahead and collect your item first."
"No need to wait for you?"
"No."
Locke spoke casually, the corners of his mouth curving upward. "If you wait for me, I suspect you might end up losing both your money and your goods."
Rosa caught his drift for a moment, then frowned. "I'll stay."
This place was merely a single stronghold of the Earl King family, not where their actual wealth was kept.
Rosa and her companions had already figured everything out; they were waiting until she secured the Golden Apple intelligence here before the Brotherhood assassins, who were already lying in ambush near the King family's actual castle, would strike to complete their operation of robbing the rich to aid the poor.
Locke smiled. "You have your own troubles to deal with."
Rosa raised an eyebrow.
Although he hadn't understood the words spoken by that Western European lady inside the hall, his sharp senses had captured what she said once she stepped outside, waiting for her car to leave.
'Move in the moment Rosa steps out!'
Those words were spoken in English, and he had heard them plain as day.
Seeing the expression on Locke's face, Rosa seemed to guess something as well. She nodded.
"See you tomorrow?"
Locke gave an affirmative grunt.
Soon, Rosa turned and walked toward the back hall to collect the intelligence regarding the Golden Apple. After a short while, on the auction stage, Tyler King had progressed to bidding out Locke's *Voodoo Encyclopedia*.
As the bidding opened at the same starting price of five million dollars, Locke got a clear view of who the buyers for his item were.
Locke scanned the room, then turned to the remaining crowd, asking with curiosity,
"Who are those two?"
Since Rosa had planned to rob the place, she had certainly done her homework. If she hadn't realized earlier that they couldn't just barge in blindly, she probably would have driven straight into this manor with her foot slammed on the gas.
"The one on the left is an assistant to the President of Haiti."
"And the one on the right?"
"A voodoo chieftain from Louisiana."
"Alright then."
One represented a national state religion, while the other was the head of the largest voodoo stronghold within the US. Excellent.
This was very good; neither side should be lacking in funds. After all, one treated the national treasury and UN relief funds as their personal piggy bank, while the other was sustained by the offerings of voodoo believers across the USA.
Locke nodded with immense satisfaction.
Business was business. Although Earl King was courting death, it was undeniable that his eye for selecting clients remained top-tier. Except, of course, for the miscalculation he made regarding Rosa.
Locke thought to himself.
Three minutes later, the auction price for Locke's *Voodoo Encyclopedia* was finalized.
Thirty million dollars!
After deducting the commission due to the Earl King family, the amount he would receive still came to a full twenty-two million plus.
'What a pity. I originally intended to let you earn the commission you deserved, but why didn't you give me the chance?'
Locke shook his head internally. Watching Tyler King descend from the stage, he smiled and shook Tyler's hand, then spoke to the remaining attendants,
"Wait for me a moment, Ms. Ada."
Rosa nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Peerless."
A moment later, in the back hall.
Earl King—whose heart wasn't beating at all and whose face was pale, yet who still maintained the habit of sitting in a wheelchair—rose from his seat upon seeing Locke enter behind his son. He happily extended his right hand toward Locke.
"Mr. Peerless, your reputation precedes you."
Locke shook his hand.
It was icy cold, exactly like shaking hands with a block of ice.
Earl King, who looked as though he had just consumed fresh blood, withdrew his right hand and laughed.
"Apologies, my body has just recovered, and the doctor says I am still very weak, leaving my hands and feet freezing cold."
Locke offered a polite smile, then turned directly toward Tyler King. "Transfer the funds."
Tyler King snapped out of his thoughts and smiled. "Mr. Peerless, the buyer is currently processing the corresponding payment. Once the funds arrive, twenty-two million five hundred thousand dollars will be wired immediately by our financial team back home. Please rest assured."
Locke gave an affirmative grunt, looking at Tyler with a thoughtful expression.
"So, inviting me back here was for...?"
Tyler King poured two glasses of bourbon from a decanter on the table and handed one to Locke with a polite smile.
"Mr. Peerless, thank you for bringing us such a massive piece of business. Cheers, a toast to you."
With that, Tyler King directly drained the liquor poured from that very same decanter in one gulp.
Locke looked at the bourbon in his own glass, then at Tyler King, who showed absolutely no adverse reaction after downing his drink. Letting out a short laugh, Locke likewise drained the bourbon in his glass.
The fine liquor rolled down his throat.
The very next second.
*Clatter!*
With a sharp thud, the wine glass in Locke's hand slipped from his fingers, dropping straight down toward the floor.
*Smash!*
The glass shattered instantly!
***
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