Free Web NovelChapter 25: Deal Finalized
"I am also willing to include one hundred thousand Spirit Wine Jars."
Silence. A silence so profound that the ticking of the antique clock mounted upon the wall suddenly became painfully audible.
*Tick. Tick. Tick.*
The Guild Master’s eyes remained fixed upon Dan, and he did not speak immediately. Instead, his gaze slowly shifted toward the Spirit Wine Jar resting upon the table. Its surface shimmered faintly beneath the ceiling lights while the pure spiritual aura emanating from within gently spread throughout the room. Even those who had never seen such an item before could instinctively tell that it was extraordinary.
The Guild Master reached forward, his fingers carefully wrapping around the jar before lifting it from the table. He closed his eyes, and a trace of spiritual power entered the container. Moments later, his pupils contracted.
"He has once again lost his composure."
That realization alone shocked Rowan more than the Spirit Wine Jar itself. The Guild Master had led Black Gun Guild for nearly three decades, and throughout those years, countless crises had threatened to destroy the guild.
Monster outbreaks, guild wars, financial crashes, political disputes. Yet regardless of the situation, he had always remained calm. This was the first time he had ever witnessed such visible astonishment upon his face.
Dan remained seated quietly, neither interrupting nor attempting to persuade anyone. He simply waited.
Meanwhile, the Guild Master’s thoughts raced. Money alone could not save Black Gun Guild. If their only problem had been unpaid loans, then perhaps one billion dollars would indeed have been ideal.
Unfortunately, reality was never that simple. The guild had been bleeding for years — elite members had resigned, sponsors had withdrawn, investors had lost confidence, and several profitable dungeons had already been sold merely to delay the inevitable.
Even if someone somehow paid one billion dollars tomorrow, the money would gradually disappear: debts would be repaid, operational expenses would continue, revenue would remain stagnant, and eventually the guild would once again find itself standing at the edge of bankruptcy.
But Spirit Wine Jars were different. Entirely different. They were strategic resources capable of continuously generating value. Guild members could consume them before difficult streams, allowing them to remain at peak condition throughout entire dungeon expeditions, while elite squads could challenge dungeons previously beyond their abilities.
The jars themselves could also be traded, auctioned, exchanged with other guilds, and used as rewards to retain talented members. Even international guilds would willingly negotiate favorable terms for large quantities of Spirit Wine. Unlike money, Spirit Wine created an unusual opportunity— it strengthened both finances and combat capability simultaneously.
The Guild Master slowly lowered the jar and looked toward Dan once more.
"How many?"
"One hundred thousand," Dan answered without hesitation.
The words landed like thunder. No one breathed. Not one hundred, not one thousand, but one hundred thousand. Even the Guild Master could no longer conceal the shock in his eyes. Such a quantity was enough to support an entire super guild for years.
Across the table, the Guild Master’s daughter quietly stared at Dan. Until this moment, she had merely regarded him as an unusual young man. Now she was forced to reconsider everything.
His clothes remained simple, his expression remained calm, and he had not boasted once — had not flaunted his wealth nor attempted to pressure anyone into accepting his offer. From beginning to end, he had simply presented facts.
His confidence was quiet and steady, as though one hundred thousand Spirit Wine Jars were nothing particularly remarkable. She found herself studying him more carefully.
"...Interesting."
Not admiration. Not affection. Genuine curiosity. Just who was this young man?
Before she could ponder further —
*BANG!*
Rowan slammed both palms against the table and shot to his feet, his furious voice shattering the silence.
"This is absurd!"
"There is absolutely no way this is possible!"
He pointed directly at Dan.
"You expect us to believe that an Iron II Streamer possesses one hundred thousand Spirit Wine Jars?"
"Ridiculous!"
"No..."
His expression twisted.
"I refuse to believe it."
His voice grew louder.
"You stole them!"
"Or perhaps you robbed another guild!"
"Either way, they cannot possibly belong to you!"
The accusation was serious, yet Dan remained completely unmoved, not even sparing the man a glance. His gaze remained upon the Guild Master. Rowan’s expression darkened further.
"Are you deaf?"
"I’m talking to you!"
Still no response. The complete lack of acknowledgement only made him feel even more humiliated. freewēbnoveℓ.com
"You little—"
"Enough."
The Guild Master’s voice was calm, yet it instantly froze the entire room. Rowan stiffened.
"B-But President—"
"I said enough," The Guild Master slowly turned toward him. "I examined the Spirit Wine personally. It is genuine."
"As for Mr. Dan’s ownership..." He looked toward Dan. "I have seen nothing today suggesting dishonesty."
Rowan clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms. He wanted to argue, wanted to continue, yet he could only grit his teeth. The Guild Master’s judgment was absolute, and no one questioned it.
Silence returned once more. The Guild Master leaned back in his chair, his fingers intertwining before him as he closed his eyes, and nobody disturbed him. Everyone understood — he was calculating.
One billion dollars. An asking price established, a price reflecting the tower’s theoretical value. Yet theory and reality were two entirely different things. No buyer had appeared — not because the Seven Abyssal Hell Tower lacked value, but because no guild possessed sufficient liquidity.
Those wealthy enough already controlled equivalent dungeons; those interested lacked the capital. The tower had gradually transformed into a magnificent asset that no one could actually purchase — valuable, yet impossible to sell. Meanwhile, Black Gun Guild continued sinking.
Then came Dan’s offer. One hundred million dollars — enough to immediately stabilize operations, allow employees to continue receiving salaries, partially repay outstanding debts, and restore some investor confidence. But that alone wasn’t enough. The true value lay elsewhere.
One hundred thousand Spirit Wine Jars. He mentally calculated again. Sell thirty thousand, retain seventy thousand — strengthen the guild, support elite members, negotiate trades, restore influence, generate long-term revenue. The more he thought, the clearer the answer became.
He slowly opened his eyes, then stood. The Guild Master walked toward the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Metro City, and far away, a colossal black tower pierced the clouds. The Seven Abyssal Hell Tower. It had been Black Gun Guild’s greatest pride, its greatest treasure, the very foundation upon which their reputation had been built. He stared at it quietly for a long while. Finally, he smiled, a tired smile.
"The tower built this guild.l," He turned around. "And now it will save it one final time."
The Guild Master walked back toward the table and stopped before Dan. Without another word, he extended his hand.
"Mr. Dan Moriarty."
"On behalf of the Black Gun Guild..."
"I accept your offer."
The room froze. Even the Guild Master’s daughter blinked in surprise, and Rowan face became deathly pale. Dan rose calmly from his chair and reached forward. The two men shook hands.
The Guild Master looked at him for several moments before speaking softly.
"Take good care of that tower."
"It deserves a better future than I was able to give it."
"I will," Dan inclined his head.
Those two simple words carried neither arrogance nor hesitation. Only certainty.
Minutes later, Dan exited the executive floor. The elevator descended steadily toward the lobby, and when its doors finally opened, countless employees continued going about their work, completely unaware that ownership of the city’s most famous dungeon had just changed hands.
Dan stepped outside. The afternoon sun bathed Metro City in golden light, and far in the distance, the Seven Abyssal Hell Tower stood proudly against the horizon, its black surface seeming to devour the surrounding sunlight as it stretched endlessly toward the heavens. Dan quietly gazed at it. Then he began walking.
A towering tree begins from a single seed. A journey of ten thousand miles begins beneath one’s feet.
On this day, few paid attention to the transfer of one forgotten tower. Fewer still realized that the young man now walking toward it would one day establish a guild whose name would shake not merely Metro City —
but every realm connected to the Streaming Network.
