The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series Roman Prokofiev (top ten books of all time .TXT) 📖

Three or four hours later, the price started to evolve. The cheapest lots sold out first, but after them, even the more expensive ones started to vanish from the market. Only five hundred gallons of blood were left on sale, while purchase prices went up. Late that night, demand exceeded supply, with players offering as much as 300-320 gold for the ingredient, and the remaining market stock rapidly trimmed down, as the largest and most expensive lot, the one that sold more than five hundred gallons for 401 gold, dwindled away.

They fell for it. The local Dragon Blood dealers should be thankful; in one day, I helped them make as much money as they would have made in a month. It was time for the most risky part of my plan. Amidst the shortage, I needed to drive the price up and sell out my stock for as much as possible.

I started bulling the market, offering to buy the blood for more and more money. The purchase price climbed up to 500 gold per gallon, with no available stock. It was the brief period before nobody put up the next batch of Dragon Blood; any second, a cunning merchant could pour out their entire supply, making everything go down the drain. My aim was to seize the moment of peak prices and quickly dump my four hundred gallons on the auction.

Almost a dozen players were buying out the remaining market stock and increasing the purchase price in a bid to outrace me and each other. I physically sensed their excitement and thrill, also feeling carried away with the fervor. The most important thing, however, was to quit while I was ahead. The prices couldn’t be inflated indefinitely.

The people involved in trading and crafting were certainly good enough with numbers. I knew that the bigheads had already taken my recipes to pieces, counted down the production cost, its profitability, and the approximate prices. I had done it a long time ago. By my estimates, the max price of Dragon Blood should have jumped to around 850 to 900; if it cost any more, the price of prepared elixir would become exorbitant. It wouldn’t last long, though, no longer than a few hours or days, but the craze could allow for some immense profits.

When the purchase price rose to 600, I decided to ramp the buzz up. There was no available stock anymore, the list of sold lots clean as a whistle. The locals were holding on to their supply, either having already sold them or waiting for an even higher price. I could wait, too, but I wanted to get out while the getting was good.

I quickly put up half of the remaining Dragon Blood for 999 gold, the only offer on the market, pretending to be an arrogant hustler hoping to make a quick buck. Then I paused. Nobody was buying at such a price, of course; my intention was to set the upper limit of the market and probe for possible competition. Naturally, they sprang to life, trying to outbid me and putting up new batches of the item. Immediately, the market started going down. I had to act fast.

I created a few buying positions for 800, increasing the demand, but they didn’t last long. I put up even more, acting like I was ready to buy out at that price. Buying at a loss, I created the impression that the upper purchasing limit was increasing.

First and foremost, trading is a battle of wills. When the price fluctuates, lots of players think with their emotions, rather than brain. I knew that right now, an unseen opponent was watching the sought-after goods disappear from the market, wavering on whether they should increase the purchase price.

After a tedious minute, a fresh lot popped up. Somebody outbid me, buying at 800.01. At once, I removed all my dragon blood lots and selected that listing.

Sell. Please enter quantity. 439. Confirm.

Now, if my opponent had enough money, the deal would be concluded. Unblinking, I stared at the number on my account. Do it, do it, do it!

The chiming of the bell was music to my ears. The numbers flashed, changing. I had three hundred fifty thousand gold in my account. Three. Hundred. Fifty. Thousand. Plus change.

Choking with hysterical laughter, I scrambled down from the couch and turned off the auction interface, then spent a few minutes guffawing, my face buried in the soft carpet, and bumping my fist against the floor. Thank God nobody could see me at that moment. It was the pure exhilaration after a hard-won battle.

The Magister’s epic recipes. Dragon Blood. Two hundred and fifty thousand gold of net profit. Ladies and gentlemen, masters of alchemy and Bazaar business sharks, meet Cat!

I liked Sphere more and more. And above all else, nobody could figure out my nickname. Thanks to the Diamond subscription, I was completely anonymous, my nickname displayed as a series of question marks. Three hundred fifty thousand gold was a big enough sum to attract unwanted attention.

My eyes fell on the flashing icon of an envelope against the half-translucent interface, indicating new mail. I opened the message and raised an eyebrow, surprised. The author was a player whom I had never heard about before.

Chapter 9

The Bazaar, Seventeenth Tower, VIP Apartment

Joker: Hi. My congratulations. It was an elegant job.

HotCat: Thank you, I guess. What are you talking about?

Joker: About your blood scheme. Actually, many of us expected you to buy out everything, why didn’t you?

HotCat: I don’t get it, what blood?

Joker: Oh stop it, we’ve weighed you up and found you light enough. Do you want to know what gave you away?

HotCat: ...

Joker: It’s simple. The forum messages were under one nickname, but the recipe and the elixirs were sold by a hidden