My Manor

"Two hundred and fifty million." The Soviet Union's representative had just finished shouting, and before the audience could even focus on him, the Spanish delegate had already made his bid. The fifty million tier was indeed surprising.

When the British heard the amount, they hesitated for a moment.

In fact, they had already done their research on the value of the armor before coming here. Aside from the Spanish government's sentimental attachment, most other countries were looking to collect and, in some cases, humiliate Spain.

But even humiliation has its limits—such as a price of no more than five hundred million dollars.

Now the bid had reached two hundred and fifty million. To be honest, the proud British were starting to feel uneasy.

"Two hundred and eighty million." But their hesitation didn't mean that others were also frightened. The Middle Eastern tycoon at Table 103 finally made his move. He raised the sign in his hand, and his assistant quickly shouted the new price.

"Three hundred million." The Spaniards followed suit immediately. Seeing the Spaniards grit their teeth, the Soviet giants, who had been disinterested until now, couldn't help but laugh. They enjoyed seeing the Europeans upset, so they slowly raised their hands.

"Four hundred million!" As the giant's voice echoed, the British immediately withdrew from the bidding.

For them, it was never about winning. They had only hoped to inconvenience Spain. After all, this wasn't an item the British had any claim to.

"Asshole." The Spanish table cursed under their breath, then raised their sign again. This time, however, they only added the bare minimum—an extra one million. In their minds, four hundred million was already close to their breaking point. After all, Spain's annual GDP ranked only sixth in Europe and thirteenth globally. The government wouldn't allocate such a large sum for this purchase.

And frankly, bleeding their budget for this was truly unbearable.

But just because they couldn't stomach it didn't mean others felt the same. After the 401 million bid, the Middle Eastern tycoon raised the price again, and his assistant quickly announced a whole number.

"Five hundred million!" At this announcement, the crowd became more energized. Although they had come prepared, knowing that the price of this armor was likely to be around one billion, hearing this bid still took them by surprise.

"Six hundred million." Upon hearing the new bid from the Middle Eastern tycoon, the Russian giants, now serious, raised their bid to six hundred million. The Spaniards' faces grew darker. In fact, they were similar to the British in their discomfort, but while the British had a ceiling of five hundred million, the Spaniards could only go as high as six hundred million.

But now the Russians had already bid six hundred million. Though it was an international figure, akin to a seal of imperial authority, this was still beyond their reach. As for Jiang Hai, he felt his breathing lighten at this point. While Phillips's team had said the armor could fetch up to one billion, that had seemed like a casual remark. Now that the money was in front of him, Jiang Hai was a little stunned. He glanced at the person in charge beside him, who was still calm, though his trembling hands betrayed his nerves.

"Go contact the British!" The Spaniards, seeing the fierce bidding between the Middle Eastern tycoons and the Far Eastern giants, decided to compromise. This artifact belonged to Europe, and if they couldn't have it, they couldn't allow it to go to the Middle East. Who knew what they would do with it? Maybe display it on a lion? After all, they had done stranger things.

The Spanish representatives quietly approached the British table, and after some brief discussions, it was clear they had reached a deal. When the Middle Eastern tycoon raised the price again, it had reached 800 million dollars.

"Nine hundred million!" Seeing that the Middle Eastern tycoons were undeterred by the escalating costs, the Russian giants wiped their brows. The final Soviet bidder called out the price, but after doing so, he slumped in his chair. This was the limit for the Soviet Union.

At this point, the auctioneer glanced at the person in charge below. The price was nearly reached.

When the person in charge nodded, signaling they could proceed, another voice interrupted.

"One billion! I bid one billion dollars." With this declaration, all eyes turned to the Spanish representatives.

No one knew how they had convinced the British to lend them the money, but they had now placed a bid of one billion.

For Spain, this armor was far too precious. It was a symbol of their most prosperous era. To them, it was akin to discovering a relic of Emperor Li Shimin from the Tang Dynasty in modern times. Even if it were Li Zhi or Li Longji's armor, it would still be priceless.

If the government didn't take action, private citizens would pay any sum to bring it home.

Though Philip III wasn't as significant as other emperors, for Spain, seeing their emperor's armor displayed in another country was a national disgrace. No matter the cost, they had to reclaim it.

As the one-billion-dollar bid echoed, the entire venue fell silent. Jiang Hai, who had been on edge, relaxed. He had reached his goal—one billion dollars. His net worth had just surpassed a billion, and the thought filled him with elation. He smiled, feeling more excitement than any other achievement in his life.

"One billion once, one billion twice, one billion...sold!" The auctioneer quickly concluded, and with that, the Spaniards sat back in their chairs, helpless. Their national treasure had slipped through their fingers.

Jiang Hai, too, slumped into his chair, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

He had made a fortune. After the auction, there was a dinner. Jiang Hai had no interest in the socializing, but as he thought about his earnings—1.1 billion yuan, minus taxes and commissions, leaving him with around 682 million—he realized his wealth was now well over one billion. If he bought all the cows from the three companies once he returned, his fortune would exceed 2 billion dollars. Thinking of this, he felt as though he could retire for good—not just in this life, but in every life to come. He wouldn't need to do anything anymore.

Sometimes, all people need are dreams to chase. Jiang Hai's previous dream was to be rich, and now that he was, his dream had changed—to eat and wait for death. Well, he was a son of the plane, after all, without any grand ambitions.

The dinner was lively, but the Spaniards were absent, needing to report the day's events. Everyone else seemed to be in a good mood, especially the Soviet giants, who had already secured a lot of goods.

As the dinner went on, Jiang Hai focused on eating. He felt out of place at such an event, always seeing himself as a failure. Even now, despite his wealth, he still thought of himself as a loser. However, he was proud of being a loser who wasn't as fake as the so-called successful people. At least, that's how he saw it.

"Hi, Jiang, it's good to see you again." Just as Jiang Hai was about to finish his meal, a familiar voice called out. Looking up, he saw Du Famen—the Middle Eastern tycoon who had purchased his armor—along with his entourage of women.

"Good to see you again, Du Famen. Congratulations," Jiang Hai smiled and stood up.

"Congratulations to you too, Jiang. That's quite a sum." Du Famen laughed.

"Uh, how did you know it was me?" Jiang Hai's smile froze as he heard Du Famen's words. His hand, about to extend in greeting, recoiled. Could this man have investigated him? If so, he would have to be cautious.