Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 73: A Million Gold Coin.

A Million Gold Coin.

Leon’s back had turned to Torven; his gaze serene but keen. The merchant had stood by and watched the whole event unfold, still at a distance. When Leon had chosen the first hairpiece for Aria, he had subtly created a shield around himself and the women, making sure that their private moments stayed just that. Torven had witnessed in amazement how Leon had glided across the space, a silent intent in his movements. It was then that Cynthia, with a quick motion, had boosted Leon’s barrier, her Grandmaster-level cultivation energy strengthening the protective barrier making outsider to hard seen what going inside the barriers.

Torven naturally stepped back as Cynthia’s Grandmaster-level aura flashed, Torven felt the huge pressure envelop him. The barrier was no normal shield, and he knew it would be foolish to cross it. He sensed the tension of the guards but then lifted his hand, telling the guards to relax. Torven grasped the implied rule—Leon, with a Grandmaster beside him, needed privacy, and it was not something to dispute, particularly in a store where the top cultivation was Master realm. Then it all settled out, Leon regarding Cynthia with a slight nod. She smiled kindly, her essence withdrawing as the shield dissipated. Leon moved on to confront Torven, his voice solid but not brutal.

Leon cleared his throat to speak again, his tone pleasant but as pure as crystal. ”Mr. Torven.”

Torven, still standing humbly in front of the fancy table, stiffened like strings pulling taut. ”Yes, sir!”

Leon’s eyes remained fixed on the ornament box, where four hairpieces shone softly, their dainty shape tucked away like precious stones in the shadows of the velvet. He smiled faintly, cocking his head. ”And I’ll have these four as well.”

Torven’s face brightened. ”As you please, sir!” he said with a bow and a wide merchant’s smile.

Leon nodded, fingers running along the edge of the display box. ”Now, Mr. Torven, how much is all nine hairpieces?”

Torven clasped his hands together. ”Each hairpiece, sir, is around fifty thousand gold coins,” he replied cautiously. ”So nine of them collectively would be four hundred fifty thousand gold coins.”

All the women standing around Leon were shocked again.

Chloe stood motionlessly to one side, her fingertips shaking as she stroked the silver hairpiece now set amongst her dark tresses.

Fifty thousand pieces of gold? Her heart accelerated at the notion. That would keep her kin going for years. And it was given to her—her, a lower-born, a daughter of mere vassal. She couldn’t possibly voice anything else. Not in dread, but deference. If she made a foolish comment, she would risk offending Lord Leon, and the thought of disappointing Lord Leon... it scared her more than anything. So, she clenched her lips together, locking the suffocating warmth within her heart like a treasured flame. The other ladies—Aria, Cynthia, Kyra, and Syra—observed with composed faces, though their eyes had a sparkle of surprise.

They were aware that Leon had once purchased necklaces for princesses and queens more costly than these hairpieces—but that didn’t render these presents any less valuable. These hairpieces were not about money. These hairpieces were something else. Not due to their cost, but because he had selected each of them himself, paired them to their very soul, and placed them by his own hand. That act rendered them more valuable than any crown jewel. It made them feel... noticed. Loved. Leon interrupted them again, breaking them out of their reverie. ”So, Mr. Torven, if I remember correctly, the necklaces before cost me six hundred thousand gold pieces... and now these are for four hundred fifty thousand. That makes it... one million and fifty thousand, right?”

Torven nodded. ”Right, sir.

As Leon’s eyes swept over the store, it lingered—caught by a pendant suspended from a silk cord. It shone softly in the light, its lines simple and tasteful, yet compelling. His eyes narrowed by a fraction with interest, a spark of admiration flickering in their depths. ”And what about that pendant?” he inquired.

Torven caught his eye and smiled. ”That one is fifty thousand gold pieces, sir.

Leon nodded nonchalantly. ”I’ll take that one as well.”

Aria blinked in puzzlement. ”Darling, why did you buy another pendant?”

Leon smiled, winking at her teasingly. ”It’s a secret, dear.”

Despite being puzzled, Aria smiled again. She trusted his every choice. If he purchased it, there was a reason.

Leon addressed Torven once more. ”So, my total bill is one point one million gold coins now.”

The women who were with him all gasped. That was no little amount.

One point one million... The figure was colossal—enough to finance Silver City for decades. But for Leon, it was merely a whisper of his huge fortune spent in one lazy afternoon with languid ease. But for Leon, who controlled the keys not only to bygone Leon fortunes but to moonwalker’s ancestors’ huge bequest, a figure like this was little more than a rumor in their tradition.

But Torven’s heart was racing.

One million one hundred thousand gold coins. This was not a sale—it was a historic deal cemented in the annals of the Black Gold Company. Across Moonstone’s entire network of branches, yearly revenue hardly reached 2.2 million. And here and now, in a single transaction, he’d locked up half that worth. His thoughts were dizzy at the prospect—his commission alone would be astronomical. Promotion? Virtually assured. This was not merely a transaction—it was destiny calling on his merchant’s door, and Torven was shaking before it, awed by victory. He swallowed hard, his hands quivering a little before he bent low in a bow. ”Your Grace, in deference to your benevolence, I will give a discount—one hundred thousand gold coins off.”

Leon smiled that rare, grateful smile. ”Then, Thank you.”

”Would you like to go downstairs and finalize the purchase?” Torven inquired humbly.

Leon nodded, and the whole group descended to the ground floor. They stood in silence beside the highly polished counter for a moment before the faint jingling of armor announced the presence of three guards. Two of them each held medium-sized ornament boxes, while the third handled a large one with both hands. They came in a neat fashion and deposited the boxes carefully on the desk, their actions being sharp and deferential.

Torven advanced smiling, unclipping the fastenings with a seasoned touch for Leon to verify the items. He lifted the top tiny box, where delicate necklaces lay within soft velvet. And then the next one—just another necklace. At last, he raised the big one, and in that were the four remaining hairpieces, every single one within a padded cell by itself, pristine and untouched.

”All just as chosen,” said Torven genially.

Leon leaned forward to examine the contents, then nodded in approval. ”Perfect.”

Then he raised his left hand above him—and with a snap of his fingers, his voice rang out, cool but commanding, as he said a single word: ”Black.”

In a flash of mana, a dark figure tall and dressed in dark black materialized behind Leon. The room grew tense. Everyone but Leon and his group stood instinctively in defense.

Leon lifted his hand serenely, feeling the tension in the room. ”Mr. Torven, don’t be frightened,” he said in a calm voice. ”He’s, my subordinate.”

Torven blinked in surprise as a figure appeared silently next to Leon. The man had come without a whisper—no footsteps, no aura. Even the guards, conditioned to pick up on Master-level cultivators, hadn’t caught his coming until now.

Torven’s heart jumped. He could hardly get words out. ”W-Who...”

But Leon remained silent.

The hooded figure moved forward and, in a single fluid movement, pulled out a medallion from beneath his robe—the emblem of House Moonwalker. Medallion shone threateningly in the shop’s dim light. Only the Duke of Silver City and his descendants were allowed to use that crest.

Torven’s breath was caught.

That symbol... it could not be confused. Only one living man was entitled to wear it, and only his most loyal underlings bore it in his name.

Slowly, Torven’s eyes came back to Leon. Golden eyes, black hair—the description fit the Duke of Silver City, a man seldom seen outside his castle walls.

”Impossible...” Torven breathed, comprehension dawning. He had heard rumors and whispers, but now the truth stood before him.

Leon, the mysterious man who had just made a record-breaking purchase, was no other than The Duke of Silver City. Leon Moonwalker. Torven’s mind spun, the gravity of the discovery sinking in.

He bowed low, his voice shaking.

”Your Grace,” he stammered, reverence in his voice.

Leon, as ever cool and collected, merely waved a hand in dismissal. ”Just head up, Mr. Torven.”

Without another look in the direction of the merchant, Leon faced and looked in the direction of the desk, he made a slight movement with his right hand, and before anyone could even blink, the three boxes disappeared from the desk, sucked in effortlessly into his storage ring.

He faced Black, his tone cold and authoritative. ”Black, take care of the payment. I want to keep on with my market walk.”

Black bowed his head respectfully. ”As you command, my Lord.”

Without another word, Leon turned toward the door and began walking toward the exit. The women behind Leon exchanged knowing glances, their lips curving into gentle smiles as they followed him.

Torven gazed on in silence, wide-eyed and frozen in surprise – a legendary duke pay personal attention to his shop. He witnessed in raptures of amazement how Leon moved as if princely, with an air of command, followed by the five ladies as they shadows, with their faces besplendored by their acquisitioned jewels. A change occurred to the surroundings with the moving-in of the Silver City’s Duke, with the man Torven had never encountered except within whisper and rumors.

The door of the shop swung open, and voilà. The Duke of Silver City emerged from Black Gold Company, making Torven stand agog, his mind still in the state of wonderment.