Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God
Chapter 276 - 220 Weizemay Manor_1

Chapter 276: Chapter 220 Weizemay Manor_1

Not only were the half-elf girls’ gazes drawn over, but the eyes of the audience present were attracted as well.

He was a boy who, at first glance, appeared to be no older than eighteen. His attire was that of a proud little rooster, as extravagant as can be. He seemed determined to draw the attention of everyone in the room to himself. This style was characteristic of the wealthy from the south, as only by doing so could one flaunt one’s wealth and extraordinariness.

When Regina and the half-elf girls took notice of him, the boy’s spirits soared even higher. His head held higher, his oily face shone, and even his beautiful young acne was gleaming as he loudly declared, "I bid five thousand gold coins."

"Ha ha... Another little Sambia fool has fallen into Princess Regina’s beautiful trap."

"As long as Princess Regina presides over the auction for the reclaiming of the lost estates, this kind of scene is bound to happen. Though I’ve seen it countless times, it never gets old."

"It would be best if such fools came every month; our Esebra’s finances would be even more ample, the Rosaville Road would be better maintained, bringing us more caravans and wealth."

"Perhaps they don’t see themselves as fools, but as the chosen ones. He he, then they won’t only inherit Anka’s legacy and become the King of the Valley, even winning the beauty’s heart – isn’t that how biographical novels always go? Ha ha..."

"You people are somewhat unkind. While enjoying the wealth others bring, you still badmouth them behind their backs. We should honor them as Woken messengers; the more of these messengers, the better."

"That’s right, that’s right, that’s right, we shouldn’t go too far."

The onlookers from Battle Valley whispered among themselves, their faces filled with barely concealed schadenfreude and mockery.

These haughty Sambia rich second-generations were all too common for them. Having been born into privilege, they believed themselves to be naturally superior. Places like Anka Estate seemed to them preordained for their taking, easily acquired upon their arrival.

The cold and ruthless Bound Spirits would help them recognize the harsh reality.

Some just watched on coldly, not a single one stepping forward to dissuade.

The reputation of Sambia in Battle Valley was poor; to be precise, it was poor throughout the entire valley.

And these young second and third-generation rich kids were one of the main troublemakers.

The rich kids who came here either caused trouble in Sambia and fled here to avoid disaster,

or were sent by their families to gain experience and oversee their family’s estates and lands in this region.

Whichever it was, nothing good ever happened.

Having suddenly gained great authority and yet unstable in temperament, they often committed extravagant misdeeds, triggered public outrage, and then, with a turn of their butts, fled back to Sambia to escape legal punishment.

Such nuisances, the fewer the better, let alone preventing them.

"This gentleman bids five thousand gold coins; does anyone offer more?" Regina’s smile was sweet and picture-perfect. Whether she was smiling at the boy or at the glittering gold coins, only she knew.

But the Sambia boy believed the smile was for him. He was infatuated, lifting his head high and acting as if the auction win was assured, ready to fight tooth and nail with anyone who dared to compete with him.

Although the room was lively, there were no competing voices.

With such auctions being held monthly, if one was indeed interested in exploring Anka Estate, they could wait for the next month. There was no need to waste money unnecessarily.

Regina obviously knew this and sped up the auction process, fearing that the duck in hand might fly away. "Five thousand gold coins once, five thousand gold coins twice, five thousand gold coins thrice, sold! The right to reclaim Anka Estate this month goes to this young master. I hope he will have a victorious start and inherit Anka’s legacy, gaining ownership of Anka Estate and bringing back a piece of lost land for our Battle Valley. Please, after the auction is complete, come to the back to pay and receive the corresponding permit."

Regina’s infectious voice rose a few decibels, "Excellent. We have had a good start today. Let’s move on to the second auction item, the Good Luck Tooth Mage Tower.

The origins of this mage tower are unknown, and so is its affiliation, but one thing is certain: it still contains powerful magic and traps, as well as treasures left by the previous owner.

It is said there are passages leading to unknown areas.

The pioneers will gain all the treasures within the mage tower and ownership of the mage tower itself, with an additional one kilometer around the tower included as affiliated territory.

The starting bid is ten thousand gold coins, and the auction begins now."

The auction price of this Ghost Castle in Battle Valley had little to do with its actual value.

If one talks about potential value, none can top Anka Estate.

It’s directly linked to the danger coefficient; the higher the starting bid, the higher the danger.

The purpose was to have those taking on this mission consider it carefully.

Regina called out several times but still no one responded.

When her gaze accidentally swept over the Sambia boy who had participated in the previous bid, it thrilled the lovesick boy to the point he almost blurted out a bid impulsively.

But the number of gold coins in his purse limited his performance, preventing him from casually throwing ten thousand gold coins just for a smile from the beauty.

Even for him, ten thousand gold coins was no small sum.

Five thousand could at least buy a possibility and be justified; throwing in another ten thousand was out of the question.

With a chorus of regretful sighs, the Good Luck Tooth Mage Tower was passed in.

Regina’s mood was not affected in the slightest; she continued smiling, "Today’s third and final auction item is Weizemay Manor.

Many of you are probably familiar with this estate already.

Located on Gryphon Hill in the Three Rivers Region of Battle Valley, it once boasted the largest and finest vineyards, producing Crystal Grape Wine famous even in the Northern Lands.

Unfortunately, Duke Kolonfer’s wrong choice plunged both himself and his estate into a desperate cycle. Whoever can alleviate Duke Kolonfer will inherit all his assets, including Weizemay Manor and nearly ten square kilometers of vineyards surrounding it.

The starting bid is fifteen thousand Gold Coins, and the auction officially starts now,"

No sooner had Regina’s words fallen than a young male voice rang out, "Fifteen thousand five hundred Gold Coins."

How come there are so many suckers this time?

Did something big happen over in Sambia?

All the young people have run over here?

All eyes followed the voice and indeed, they rested on a vibrant and handsome young man. Judging from his appearance, he was not over twenty, over one meter eighty in height, but with a proportionate build resembling a graceful cheetah ready to spring into action at any moment. His slightly pointed ears indicated his Elf Bloodline, yet when his gaze flickered, it gave the illusion of piercing cat eyes, as if peering through others.

A young girl who did not look very old stood next to him, cloaked in a loose white Sacrificer’s robe and shawl, which failed to hide her slender and well-proportioned figure. Her golden hair tied back revealed a round face with a nervous and shy smile. Faced with countless eyes turning towards them, she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on the Moonstone Cross.

This was the symbol of the Crippled God Ilmater. It seemed she was a follower of the Broken God.

Those who realized this couldn’t help but smile at the young Priestess. As one of the Three Holy Deities, Ilmater may not be the strongest or the most famous, but he is the kindest, and his followers are deeply beloved for their commitment to saving lives and aiding the wounded, earning them great favor among the common folk. Even his priests sometimes enjoy special treatment.

"Twenty thousand Gold Coins," a voice full of vigor called out.

Not only were the onlookers shocked, but even the Half-Elf youth had a stunned expression. The normally overlooked auctions had suddenly become a hot commodity.

All eyes once again followed the voice, landing on a middle-aged man bearing the marks of exposure to the elements. Over forty years old, the cloak typically enveloping the Adventurer had now been opened.

His Armor revealed beneath was just as seasoned with time, marked with various cuts and scratches from blades and claws, proof of countless battles fought.

Emblazoned on the front of the armor was a crest, featuring a balance scale mounted upon a warhammer.

Upon recognizing this emblem, everyone present couldn’t help but treat him with reverence, and some followers of the God of Just unconsciously straightened up, pounding their right fists to their chests as a salute to the middle-aged man.

The middle-aged man seemed to sense this respect and quickly returned the gesture to them.

This was a Holy Warrior, a Paladin of the God of Justice, Tyr.

As the head of the Three Holy Deities, Tyr, known as the Hand of Equilibrium and God of Just, bears the responsibility of supervising the entire world.

His Holy Warriors loyally embody this principle, watching over evil and supervising unlawfulness, revealing the truth, punishing sinners, and amending mistakes.

They uphold the justice of their regions, punishing those who break the law and aiding the weak in their quest for revenge.

They are among the finest judges of Felen, without question.

This has led to their reputation being quite polarized, especially in Sambia.

The rich Rulers there, while utilizing them, also harbor resentment, as many of their policies uphold the ruling class, which the Tyr Holy Warriors often oppose.

However, in the eyes of the common folk, the image of these Holy Warriors is radiant, symbolizing Justice and Judgment.

In the Valley, their image is deeply entrenched. Wherever they go, they are welcomed with enthusiasm, sometimes even acting as temporary judges, making decisions or seeking revenge for local settlements and towns.

This is largely due to the loose political structure and fragmented legal system of the Valley.

Take Battle Valley for instance, there is hardly any systematic law; Lord Ilmet may be the nominal ruler of Battle Valley, but his authority is confined to Esebra, with no capacity to govern elsewhere.

With the Elves’ great retreat and the increasing darkness sprouting in Kosoman, he is already run ragged.

As for concerns about these Holy Warriors being corrupt, accepting bribes, or favoring one side, such worries are non-existent.

Should that happen, they would no longer be called Holy Warriors but would be fallen Dark Guards in darkness.

Regina, recognizing the middle-aged man’s appearance, leaped directly from the stage and walked towards him with a graceful gait.

As she passed, the excited men did not crowd her but involuntarily parted to form a human corridor, as if to welcome her.

By the time the men came to their senses, Regina had already glided past them with a fragrant breeze.

Regina respectfully addressed him, "It turns out to be the Darnell Inquisitor himself. It is our greatest honor to have you assist us in reclaiming the lost land. How could we possibly charge you for the auction? Here is the entry pass to Weizemay Manor, please accept it, Inquisitor Darnell."

"So it’s him!"

"What? Is this Darnell Inquisitor very famous? What’s his story?"

"Ever heard of the Monastery of the Hammer of Justice?"

"No."