They all call me an Outer God.

"It can split infinitely. You only need to make a wish to it to receive a continuous stream of new gold coins, and there is no cost... What do you think of this thing, Mr. Butler?"

Sullivan spoke these words very seriously to Fred, but the other man blew his beard as if he thought Sullivan was just joking.

"Stop joking, young master, you're really making me laugh."

He laughed until he was breathless, and after a long while, he straightened up and said, "You mean you want to ask me how much something that can continuously split into new gold coins is worth? And you're actually willing to sell it?"

Let's set those aside for now and talk about its function. Although the existence of mysterious items isn't uncommon in our circle, I still have to say something—

There is no such thing as a mysterious item that can generate money infinitely; its existence is a paradox, and even legendary alchemy wouldn't dare to write such a thing! This thing doesn't exist!

Fred thought Sullivan was talking nonsense at his age, otherwise he must be crazy.

The value of gold is undeniable. Gold is equivalent to currency, but currency is not equivalent to gold. If gold could be generated indefinitely, it would, at the very least, be detrimental to the balance between people, and at worst, it could even disrupt the global economy.

Even God wouldn't dare grant a wish made by a fanatical believer.

"But now it's right in front of you."

Sullivan gripped the gold coin and then released it: "If you don't believe me, you can make a wish upon it."

"I wouldn't dare make a wish upon a mysterious object so casually; these things come at a price."

"It doesn't."

"Hehehe."

Fred smiled and shook his head, but he was really interested in the thing, so he went out and found a bodyguard from an outsourcing company and gestured for him to try making a wish on it.

"The old man is quite cautious."

Sullivan secretly grumbled, but he was also very interested in the scene of making wishes, so a crowd gathered around a bodyguard to watch him make a wish on a gold coin.

"I wish I could get another gold coin."

As the bodyguard finished speaking, the original gold coin turned into two. Seeing that the new gold coins had appeared for a long time without any special phenomena, the group hurriedly asked the bodyguard to try again.

"No matter how many gold coins you wish for, these will be your salary for today."

The bodyguards might have been wary of this inexplicable supernatural phenomenon, but after Fred told them this, their concerns were immediately forgotten.

Sullivan was not keen to recall what he had experienced that day. Even the most abundant things, like gold, would become tiresome if viewed too often, especially since that gold did not belong to him!
He only saw the bodyguard buried under the gold coins. Just when everyone thought he had been crushed to death, he suddenly crawled out of the pile of gold coins, hugged the gold coins with a happy expression, which made the people around him envious.

Sullivan knew his actions were quite risky, as there was a chance someone might become greedy and kill him to steal the gold coins. Fortunately, the people here were relatively reasonable on the surface; they agreed to Sullivan's auction demands and understood that this auction was bound to be unusual.

It's possible that everyone will go crazy because of this.

Sullivan now simply needs to patiently wait for the auction to begin.

To be honest, it felt pretty good to have a god protecting me for the first time.

Soon after, everyone took their seats at the auction. The huge auction hall was divided into different classes. For example, the owner of this auction would never show up until the very last moment, so even if Sullivan was anxious, he had to wait.

"I always feel like I'm not prepared enough. If only I had a bomb."

Sullivan was using the identity of the eldest son of a viscount. Out of respect for his father, they would arrange for him to sit in a private room on the second floor as a VIP, a privilege reserved for nobles. As for the wealthy people without titles, they could only crowd around the audience like ants. "Will he be in the crowd too?"

Before the auction officially began, Sullivan tried to find the man who called himself "Swald," but unsurprisingly, he couldn't.

Just when Sullivan thought he wouldn't appear again, he was caught off guard to find his room fogged up. Then, the young man casually sat down in the chair opposite him, sharing the room with him.

"How did you get in?"

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

Schwarz adjusted his glasses and coughed, "Is everything settled?"

"Of course, I'm ready to exchange one gold coin for more gold coins from other people, so I can get money without paying any price!"

"Good job, you learn very quickly."

Schwarz praised him, then closed his eyes as if deep in thought: "It's just a pity that he's not even one ten-thousandth as good as Him, but that's probably one of the reasons He had me guide you."

"Actually, I've wanted to ask this from the very beginning."

Sullivan looked at Schwarz: "The one you keep mentioning, the Lord of Trade, right?"

"Yes."

Schwarz did not deny it, nor did he try to cover it up.

"Why did He help me? Will He help every believer in the same way?"

"How can you think He is helping you on purpose? He is not one to meddle in other people's business. Just watch, child. As His followers, you and I are fortunate enough to witness a performance that belongs only to angels."

Schwarz became somewhat excited at the mention of these things. He squinted his eyes, casually grabbed a plate from the table, and stuffed it into his mouth as if it were a cookie.

He completely ignored the strange look in Sullivan's eyes.

Sullivan noticed that two out of every three sentences Swaal uttered mentioned "He," but he couldn't say anything. What he had initially worried about not being able to complete his revenge had become feasible under Swaal's guidance.

He himself was more like a witness. If the god said to turn this place into a stage for performance, then he only needed to be the so-called audience and cheer for Him, even though he did not yet understand the name of the performance by this being.

Schwarz, standing to the side, seemed to understand his thoughts. He gently curved the corners of his mouth up, and the shadow beneath him became increasingly grotesque and twisted, as if it were parasitized by endless mycelium. These fungi were growing wildly, intertwining, and then releasing their pitch-black spores.

He didn't give Sullivan a specific answer, but just casually mentioned it.

"There are too many parasites in Endlers."

“The termites need bigger termites to keep them in check, otherwise they will cause countless problems.”

“If you want to kill all the parasites here, we can help you, but simply killing them is too boring. If I wanted to, it would be just a matter of a thought.”

"So we came up with a more interesting way to play."

(End of this chapter)