Chapter 24: Old Wang Once Knew Wealth

A strand of consciousness entered the Heart of Azeroth.
The Dark God Book floated at the very center, as ancient and shadowy as ever, exuding an aura of mystery and power.
Miss Azeroth beckoned, and the Dark God Book drifted into her hand. “Oh? This is not bad, much better than the box you made earlier!”
As she spoke, the Dark God Book automatically flipped to the first page.
“Still trying to read my thoughts and present itself in my native language? How dare you! But what is my native language? Titan tongue?”
She frowned, troubled for a couple of seconds.
She was a Titan.
Logically, her mother tongue should be Titan tongue.
But in reality, every Titan is born without a language, utterly alone, with no one to teach them.
The original Titan tongue was actually created by the first Titan, Aman'Thul, and it was only many millennia later that she learned it.
As the living soul of a planet, Miss Azeroth mastered all languages spoken by every race on Azeroth: Common, Elvish, Dwarvish, Tauren tongue, even Draconic, Demonic, Kobold chatter—she knew them all, and with true expertise.
If she had to count, the first language she ever learned must have been the elemental tongue used by the elemental beings in primordial Azeroth.
“Which language should I use?” she pondered.
She shook the Dark God Book. “Tell me, which language would be best?”
The Dark God Book trembled incessantly.
Sister, how would I know!
I wanted to read your thoughts, but I simply can't!
Your level is far beyond mine, how could I possibly read you?
I dare not offend you.
I won’t read you anymore.
Better you read me!
“How about… Chinese?” Old Wang suggested.
During those years as Azeroth’s envoy, whenever Old Wang grew tired of fighting, he would chat with Miss Azeroth, telling her stories and singing nursery rhymes, even teaching her Chinese: Tang poetry, Song lyrics, Yuan songs, Ming and Qing novels, the Hundred Family Surnames, the Three Character Classic, the Thousand Character Essay—he went through them all, several times over.
Partly because nurturing games were fun, partly to practice, lest he forget his language upon returning to Earth.
Time is a fearsome thing, causing people to forget so much.
The one thing not to forget is your mother tongue.
“Hmm, all right.” She stopped worrying.
It wasn’t important.
Truth be told, in her billions of years of existence, she’d spoken Chinese the most.
After all, before Old Wang became her envoy, no one ever spoke to her!
She glanced at the Dark God Book, and it instantly stopped trembling, obediently displaying the elegant typeface Old Wang had seen before.
“Oh? A magical system completely different from ours… Interesting, though not as entertaining as the comic you drew about fairies fighting.”
Her eyes shone with delight.
Old Wang froze.
Fairies fighting? What on earth was that?
Was it the Seven Dwarfs battling Snow White, or the Seven Calabash Brothers fighting the Snake Spirit?
It surely couldn’t be the Seven Fairies against Sun Wukong, could it?
All I remember is writing the “Young Married Woman’s Struggle” series, and the tale of the golden carp leaping over the dragon gate—very inspirational, cultivating virtue, helping you mature emotionally as quickly as possible.
Miss Azeroth took seven seconds to finish reading.
“What are you waiting for?” she snorted.
The Dark God Book shuddered, its pages crumpling pitifully.
Sister, how am I supposed to know you’ve finished?
I still can’t read your mind!
Of course, it dared not complain, only obediently turning the pages, faster and faster.
Five minutes later…
She closed the book and threw it into the air as if discarding trash, sighing contentedly. “Finished.”
Her expression, demeanor, and tone were no different from when she’d finished the youth series years ago…
And she claimed it wasn’t good—women are always contrary…
The “Azeroth Seven-Ring Road” lit up.
The Dark God Book was about to vanish.
Old Wang was startled and shouted, “Stop!”
“What is it?”
Miss Azeroth looked confused. “Weren’t you going to trade? I don’t know exactly how much you can exchange, but a hundred grams should be possible. Don’t you want it?”
A hundred grams?
Old Wang’s breathing grew heavy.
Not bad—four battery boxes only yielded ten micrograms.
The Dark God Book’s value was…
A million times greater than the battery boxes?
Wait…
That calculation might be off.
The higher the value, the lower the shipping—well, the transportation fee. The Dark God Book’s fee might be only two percent, since its value was almost equal to “Blood of Azeroth” per unit weight.
The book weighed at most five hundred grams, yet could be exchanged for a hundred grams of Blood of Azeroth—that was remarkable.
Even in the world of Warcraft, very few items matched the value of “Blood of Azeroth,” mostly legendary artifacts.
But battery boxes were different.
Bulky and heavy, the shipping was pricey.
Don’t be fooled by the final ten micrograms of Blood of Azeroth—shipping might have cost a hundred micrograms, maybe even a milligram.
Still, the Dark God Book’s value was tens of thousands times higher than that of the battery boxes.
High-tech products have uncertain inherent value, but if sold on the black market to someone in need, say Justin Hammer or Tony Stark, not just a hundred thousand dollars, but a million would be possible.
So, how valuable was the Dark God Book?
Several tens of billions?
Even hundreds of billions?
Stark Industries’ market cap was only about three hundred billion, and it was about to drop.
A single book equivalent to a Stark Industries?
It might be inflated, but at least… a tenth of Stark Industries?
Old Wang pondered carefully, and it seemed accurate.
A set of Iron Man armor could cost upwards of a hundred million, even a billion dollars—not counting the top-tier ones.
The “Hulkbuster” would surely be even pricier.
The primary material for Iron Man armor is gold-titanium alloy, ninety-nine percent gold, one percent titanium; the Hulkbuster must be measured in tons…
Usually, the materials are the cheapest part—the real value is the technology.
The technology behind Iron Man armor—forget a billion, even a hundred billion, would Tony sell it?
If he dared, Justin Hammer would buy it, and the government and military would be first in line—
Though Tony had yet to be kidnapped, and Iron Man was not born.
The knowledge contained in Stark Industries couldn’t compare to the Dark God Book, which involved dimensional transfer and life creation.
The value of this book was beyond imagination.
So, floating before me was something worth hundreds of billions?
Old Wang’s breath quickened.
It wasn’t his fault.
He’d been wealthy before!
Back in Warcraft, he was nominally the master of Pandaria, heir to Shaohao, ruling more land than the United States—not to mention;
After defeating Deathwing, he monopolized the corpse, including the entire suit of origin armor, weighing tens of thousands of tons, with a price hundreds of times that of gold—never mind;
Purifying Karazhan completely, obtaining permission from Lady Aegwynn and King Varian, becoming the master of Karazhan and lord of Deadwind Pass—never mind;
Consider only the twenty-plus legendary artifacts obtained from Icecrown Citadel, Tomb of Tyr, Kings’ Road, and Karazhan: Frostmourne, Apocalypse, Silver Hand, Scale of the Earth-Warder, plus thirty legendary items like orange hammers, staves, bows, and swords—how much were they worth?
Sadly, he didn’t bring a single one back.
Gave them all away.
Even the three Monk artifacts he never parted with were gifted.
Now, Old Wang was broke.
Just a thousand dollars in his pocket, next month’s rent unpaid.
Hundreds of billions lay before him—how could he not be tempted?
But no, Old Wang was not tempted.
He wasn’t trading it!
Of course, he still needed money—he had to eat, buy a house and car, prepare a dowry and all that.
So, Old Wang decided to take a different approach.
“Ahem.”
He pondered for a couple of seconds, then looked to Azeroth:
“Knowledge is priceless; a book is but its vessel.”
“I will not trade the book, only its knowledge.”
“You’ve read the entire book, taken all its precious secrets.”
“I won’t ask for much—just ninety-nine grams of blood.”
“If I must suffer a loss… ninety grams?”