Old Wang Had Been Rich Too

A wisp of consciousness entered the "Heart of Azeroth."

The Darkhold floated at the very center, looking as ancient and ominous as ever, every bit as impressive as the "Book of Medivh."

With a wave of Azeroth Miss's hand, the Darkhold drifted into her palm. She nodded slightly. "Not bad!"

That was already extremely high praise. Anything that caught her eye was at least legendary-grade.

As she spoke, the Darkhold automatically opened to its first page.

"Trying to read my thoughts and display itself in my native language? Such a simple spell might work on Norgannon. But what is my native language? Titan language?"

Azeroth Miss frowned and pondered the issue for two seconds.

A mere book obviously could not read her thoughts. That was not what troubled her, either.

She was a Titan.

Logically speaking, her native language should have been Titan language.

The original Titan language had actually been created by the first Titan, Aman'Thul. She had only learned it later.

As a planetary lifeform, she knew every language spoken by the races of Azeroth.

Common Tongue, Elvish, Dwarvish, Tauren, even Draconic, Demonic, and Kobold language—she knew them all and was highly proficient in every one, at an expert level.

If they really had to count it, the first language she had learned should have been Elemental language, used by the elementals in primordial Azeroth.

"Which language should I use?" Azeroth Miss thought aloud.

"How about... Chinese?" Old Wang suggested.

During those years when Old Wang served as Azeroth's representative, whenever he was tired from fighting, he would chat with Azeroth Miss. He not only told her stories and sang nursery rhymes, but also taught her Chinese: Tang poetry, Song lyrics, Yuan plays, Ming and Qing novels, the Hundred Family Surnames, the Three Character Classic, and the Thousand Character Classic. They went through them several times.

Partly because raising-game mechanics were pretty fun, and partly because he wanted to practice regularly so he would not forget how to speak after returning to Earth.

Time was terrifying. It could make a person forget many things.

The one thing that must never be forgotten was one's native tongue.

"Mmm, okay." Azeroth Miss stopped agonizing over it.

It was not important.

If they were being honest, throughout her billions of years of life, the language she had spoken most was indeed Chinese.

After all, before she had Old Wang as her representative, no one had kept her company or talked to her!

"Oh? A magical system completely different from the one in our universe... Interesting. But it isn't as entertaining as those fairy-fighting comics you drew for me."

Azeroth Miss's eyes lit up.

Old Wang froze.

What were fairy-fighting comics? I have no idea!

Was it the seven Dwarves battling Snow White, or the seven Calabash Brothers battling the snake demon?

It could not possibly have been the Seven Fairies battling Sun Wukong, could it?

All I remember is writing you those hard-struggle stories about young men and young women, plus a tale about a golden carp leaping over the Dragon Gate. They were inspiring, cultivated one's character, and helped you mature mentally as quickly as possible.

Azeroth Miss took a full seven seconds to finish the first page.

The Darkhold automatically turned the page, flipping faster and faster.

Five minutes later...

Azeroth Miss closed the book and tossed it into the air as though it were garbage, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Finished."

That expression, that demeanor, that tone—it was no different from when she had finished reading those young-men stories...

She had said it was not good, yet women really did say one thing and mean another!

The "Seven Rings of Azeroth" lit up.

The Darkhold was just about to disappear.

Old Wang blinked, then hurriedly shouted, "Stop!"

"What is it?"

Azeroth Miss looked utterly baffled. "Weren't you going to exchange it? I don't know exactly how much it can be exchanged for either, but there should be at least 100 grams. You don't want it?"

A hundred grams?

Old Wang's breathing grew heavy.

That was no small amount. Four quantum batteries had only been worth ten micrograms.

The Darkhold's value was actually several million times that of quantum batteries?

Perhaps not quite that much, but at least several hundred thousand times.

It was hard to put a price on such high-tech products themselves. But if they were sold on the black market to someone who needed them, such as Justin Hammer or Tony Stark, they could probably fetch a million dollars, not merely a hundred thousand.

By that calculation, how much was the Darkhold worth?

Several hundred billion dollars?

Or even several trillion?

Stark Industries' market capitalization seemed to be only a little over three hundred billion, and it was about to fall.

One book was worth an entire Stark Industries?

Old Wang's breathing became increasingly rapid.

It really was not his fault.

Old Wang had been rich too!

Back in World of Warcraft, he had been the nominal ruler of Pandaria, Shaohao's successor, ruling a territory larger than the United States. That was not even worth mentioning.

After killing Deathwing, Old Wang had claimed Deathwing's entire corpse for himself, including all of his Elementium Armor. There had to be tens of thousands of tons of it, and that stuff was worth hundreds of times more than gold. That was not worth mentioning either.

After completely purifying Karazhan, he had received Lady Aegwynn and King Varian's permission to become the master of Karazhan and lord of Deadwind Pass. That was not worth mentioning, either.

Just consider the more than twenty class artifacts he had acquired from Icecrown Citadel, Tirisfal, Hall of Kings, Karazhan, and other places—Frostmourne, Apocalypse, Silver Hand, Scale of the Earth Warder, and so on—as well as more than thirty pieces of legendary equipment no worse than artifacts, such as the Orange Hammer, Orange Staff, Orange Bow, and Thunderfury. How much had those been worth?

Unfortunately, he had not brought back a single one.

Now, Old Wang was poor.

He had only a thousand dollars in his pocket, and next month's rent had not even been paid.

With hundreds of billions, perhaps even trillions, of dollars right before him, how could he not be tempted?

Yet Old Wang was not tempted.

He would not exchange it!

Of course, he still needed money. He had to eat, buy a house and car, and prepare a betrothal gift and the like.

So Old Wang decided to approach it differently.

"Cough, cough."

Old Wang pondered for two seconds, then looked at Azeroth.

"Knowledge is priceless. A book is merely its vessel."

"I won't exchange the book. I'll only exchange the knowledge."

"You've read the entire book. You've already taken away its most valuable part."

"I don't want much. Just give me ninety-nine grams of blood."

"Or I can take a loss... ninety grams?"

Old Wang was not bluffing. He meant every word.

If it had been the "Scrolls of Chthon," the scroll itself would probably have been an artifact. If it could not be used, Old Wang would definitely have exchanged it directly to strengthen himself as much as possible.

But the Darkhold was different.

It might also have been a rare and powerful magical item, but what truly held value was the knowledge recorded within it.

The knowledge of Chthon, the "God of the Underworld."

Everyone could see different things in the Darkhold.

Mages could see spells, scientists could see theorems and formulas, robots could see binary code, and webnovel authors would probably see phrases that bewitched the hearts of readers.

Only by reading it again and again, and having different people read it, could its value be maximized.

Most importantly, Old Wang knew very well what this book represented.

It was naturally not an artifact on the level of the "Book of Medivh." Ten copies of the "Darkhold" could not be exchanged for one "Book of Medivh."

But to this world, it was more valuable than the "Book of Medivh."