Chapter 101: The Value of the Immortal Dragon

I haven’t even warmed it up yet, and you’re already trying to swindle it away—must you be so heartless?

Old Wang gave the young lady a sincere smile.

It was nothing serious; she was merely offering a suggestion. The decision was entirely his to make.

Old Wang knew full well that the Heart of Azeroth was a gift from the young lady, a bond symbolizing their shared breath and intertwined fates.

If this were a romance novel, it would probably be a token of love or a dowry.

As representatives of order, the Titans of the Pantheon did not engage in deceit or treachery; what belonged to Old Wang belonged to him, and no one could snatch it away.

In fact, there was little room for scheming, since this artifact was essentially crafted by the young lady herself. The Titans merely enhanced its functions. Moreover, the bond between the young lady and Old Wang seemed... closer than that between him and the Titans.

This was the so-called “blood is thicker than water” or “a near relative is better than a distant one”?

Perhaps the analogy wasn’t quite right...

Regardless, in the eyes of this mere few-billion-year-old little girl, Old Wang’s importance clearly surpassed that of the Titans of the Pantheon.

She was neither a “spirit of the artifact” nor a “system sprite.” She was merely a preserved projection—perhaps driven by some sentiment to accompany him, or maybe just an innocent girl hitching a ride, livestreaming along the way to entertain the Titans of the Pantheon.

And I—am the true master of this artifact!

Back in the day, to boost morale and foster a sense of belonging and mission, Old Wang had Mimiron forge a batch of “Hearts of Azeroth” in the young lady’s name. Using himself as the “Azeroth’s envoy,” he passed them on to the most powerful professional leaders—the high lords, warlords, archmages, archdruids, and the like.

He told them, “You are the saviors of Azeroth; the task of rescuing the star soul falls to you,” thereby roping in quite a few.

Besides enhancing the wearer’s power comprehensively, the Heart of Azeroth could also strengthen other equipment like helmets, chestplates, and pauldrons.

The one in Old Wang’s possession, however, was the true supreme artifact, imbued with unimaginable powers. It bore the original name he had given it, with the prefix “True” added to distinguish it from counterfeit imitations—

Was this an act of laziness or respect for intellectual property?

He had already examined the artifact’s attributes and knew all its capabilities.

The primary ability was the “time-space portal” linking to the world of Warcraft, but it was far from the only one. The supreme artifact, forged jointly by the Titans of the Pantheon, encapsulated their collective wisdom—an exquisite fusion of technology and magic.

Many abilities were upgraded versions of counterfeit features, all capable of significantly boosting the wearer’s power and enhancing other gear.

However, unlocking these abilities required a substantial amount of Azeroth’s Blood.

These powers were undeniably important and useful, elevating one’s strength to a new level. Yet the dragon bone was equally vital—Lu Dan had long coveted it, for its true worth far exceeded its intrinsic value. It simply could not be wasted.

“We’ll discuss that later.”

Old Wang waved his hand, then glanced at the soul shards. Twenty-four of them quickly flew over, arranged neatly in two rows and three columns—a model of obedience.

“Redeem!”

The Marvel universe lacked a Twisted Void, and Old Wang was no warlock. Soul shards were of little use to him; if he wanted any warlock spells or demonic minions, he could simply redeem them directly.

At level one, the time-space portal activated. The twenty-four soul shards vanished swiftly as the spherical space expanded from replenishment, large enough to hold at least ten Old Wangs.

Yet it was all an illusion—a kind gesture to mask poverty.

“Attribute interface,” Old Wang said, folding his hands behind his back and calling out loudly.

A spectral interface appeared, which, under Old Wang’s mental control, transformed into the art style of “World of Warcraft.”

In the realistic character interface, Old Wang stood with his slightly rounded belly, arms at his sides, swaying gently in the void. Eighteen equipment slots surrounded him, mostly decorative with little practical meaning—after all, this wasn’t a game, just a nostalgic homage to distant memories and a decade of devoted effort.

In the neck equipment slot, a golden necklace gleamed brightly, extending into an enlarged equipment attribute panel.

[True Heart of Azeroth (Supreme Artifact)]

[Azeroth’s Blood: 1 milligram]

[Equipped: Eternal Flask (1 gram Essence of Eternal Well Water)]

[Equipped: Titanium Alloy Staff (Exquisite), Titanium Alloy Gauntlets (Exquisite)]

[Item: Intact Immortal Dragon Bone (Legendary, 125 meters)]

Old Wang frowned slightly.

The value of the soul shards was far less than the knowledge contained in the Dark God’s Tome, yet still much higher than that of quantum batteries.

Using the cost and exchange rate of quantum batteries as a reference, he roughly estimated Azeroth’s worth on the Marvel Earth:

One milligram of Azeroth’s Blood was worth about ten million US dollars—equivalent to one kilogram of vibranium, but a hundred thousand times more valuable by weight.

Old Wang understood this roughly and silently calculated the value of other items, once again restraining the urge to exchange for the Dark God’s Tome.

It wasn’t out of attachment but because there were other uses.

Although the knowledge inside had been backed up, the expression of the same knowledge varied greatly from person to person; no matter how many backups were made, none would be complete.

Especially for spellcasters in the Marvel world, this book’s value was akin to Medivh’s Tome in Warcraft—undoubtedly a legendary piece of equipment, priceless.

It could be exchanged with those people for items of equal or even greater value.

For example, some true wealthy mage sitting atop a hoard of artifacts...

Squinting thoughtfully for two seconds, Old Wang gestured again, and a segment of dragon bone flew before him.

It was part of the dragon’s tail, about five meters long—probably the lowest value portion of the entire skeleton.

“Redeem,” Old Wang ordered.

Level six time-space portal opened, and the dragon bone vanished.

The spherical space showed no visible change, but the attribute interface had altered.

[Azeroth’s Blood: 0.1 gram]

Old Wang estimated silently.

The immortal dragon bone measured 125 meters in total; five meters of tail exchanged for 0.1 gram of Azeroth’s Blood.

Of course, the tail was relatively thin; five meters of tail likely didn’t equal one meter of the dragon’s head. The whole skeleton’s value should be around 20 grams—roughly one-fifth the worth of the Dark God’s Tome, about 200 billion US dollars.

Not insignificant.

Naturally, the dragon bone paled in comparison to a complete corpse, and the corpse was incomparable to a living creature. The total worth of a 125-meter-long immortal dragon surely far exceeded that of the Dark God’s Tome.

Old Wang suddenly grew curious about how long “Shou Lao,” the immortal dragon of Kunlun, was now...

“I am MT, the impregnable fortress.”

“I parry, I dodge, I guard you with my body.”

Old Wang’s personally sung phone ringtone rang, awakening the meditative Grandmaster.

After greeting the young lady, Old Wang opened his eyes and picked up the phone.

“Lu Dan? Not bringing good news, huh...”

Old Wang smiled, holding the phone half a meter away from his ear, and pressed the answer button.

The booming roar of a bald black man, barely held in check, accompanied by loud table slams, erupted:

“Master Wang, Immortal Iron Fist! As per our agreement, the resurrection coffin and the dragon bone belong to S.H.I.E.L.D.! I got the coffin, but where’s the dragon bone?”

What S.H.I.E.L.D.? That bone clearly belongs to you, Lu Dan. Also, don’t your hands ache from all that slamming...

Once the roar subsided, Old Wang brought the phone closer.

“Calm down. I swear I haven’t taken even a microgram of dragon bone from the Hand.”

“If I break this oath... I’ll never be able to rise again?”

On the other end, Lu Dan snorted.

Not from the Hand, huh?

Then it came from somewhere else?

Could it be buried beneath that building’s underground area last night?

What else but the dragon bone could compel those Hand members, who have hidden it for over a thousand years, to act rashly without adequate preparation?

Even if there was no dragon bone deep underground, Kunlun must have some.

Lu Dan hadn’t really planned to do anything to Master Wang; he was just venting his frustration, which flared up once a month.

He took a deep breath, walked a few steps, adjusted his mindset, and his voice grew low, magnetic, and charming.

“Tell me, how much do I have to pay to buy it?”

Old Wang smiled faintly.

Lu Dan took the bait.