“Everyone, these are the recently bred rabbit-mimic play slaves from our exchange. Whether in appearance or quality, they are freshly produced and untouched by anyone. If anyone is interested, feel free to come up and observe closely, but let me be clear: you can look, but you cannot touch.”

As soon as the man finished speaking, more than a dozen people rushed onto the stage, gathering around the women crawling on the ground, their eyes filled with lust, smacking their lips as they looked, their faces flushed with excitement.

“The starting price for each play slave is twenty gold coins, with increments of five coins. Whether for personal use, as a gift, or to entertain distinguished guests, it’s the wisest choice. The auction begins now... Hey, I said you can look but not touch! Someone, drag him out for me.”

Thunder saw clearly that a man was reaching into a woman’s chest, fondling her at will.

Very soon, two burly guards rushed up, one on each side, and dragged the lecherous man off the stage, tossing him outside the door. The man, utterly shameless, kicked his legs and shouted loudly, “I am a baron, I am a noble, you can’t treat me like this!”

The man on stage spat at him in contempt and ignored him.

A baron... According to Thunder’s memories from Colin, every slave exchange in each city is backed by the authorities; a mere baron could never shake the rules of the exchange.

“Buying a few to take home isn’t a bad idea.” Thunder smacked his lips and said.

Tiffany stared wide-eyed at Thunder beside him, and Oak also looked surprised.

“Just kidding.” Thunder felt awkward under their stares and quickly walked to the side.

Chapter 11: The Lucky General

Buying slaves is very simple; there are many compartments in the exchange, each holding at least a hundred or two hundred slaves.

These compartments are divided by type, with men and women in separate areas—strong, smart, delicate, beautiful, petite, all kinds.

Upon entering a compartment, staff from the exchange will come over to assist.

Since he was planning to buy a few bodyguard slaves, he naturally needed to look for the burly, strong men. Glancing at the sign above the compartment, Thunder led Uncle Oak and Tiffany into one of the rooms.

There were quite a few slaves inside, dressed in relatively neat linen clothes, some standing, some squatting. When Thunder entered, a manager from the exchange waved a whip, cracking it on the ground with a crisp sound: “Get up, get up, all of you stand properly.”

The slaves looked dispirited, their eyes dull. It took a while after the whip cracked before they sluggishly gathered together.

“Stand up straight, you scum. If you don’t behave, watch out or I’ll whip you.” As he spoke, the manager lashed a slave, making him stumble.

Thunder frowned at the sight.

“Sir, please take your time to look. If you see anyone you like, just let me know. Our slaves here are healthy and of excellent quality; we never substitute inferior goods for good ones.” The manager came over to Thunder with a smiling face.

These slaves were indeed quite large, their bodies muscular, though probably not well-fed, as their faces looked sallow. Still, they were strong enough to serve as bodyguards.

Reading people’s faces was Thunder’s specialty, so picking out a few suitable slaves from among them was no challenge for him.

“How much are these people each?” Thunder asked as he walked, casually pulling out one or two for a closer look.

“Ten gold coins per person,” the manager followed behind, “these are the strongest men in the exchange.”

Slaves were priced differently according to their quality and intended use.

Thunder nodded, considered his household’s situation, and quickly picked out seven people.

When choosing slaves, loyalty comes first, then quality! The seven people Thunder selected were the type who would never betray their master. Although Thunder couldn’t claim his judgment was one hundred percent accurate, it was close enough.

Just as he was about to turn away, Thunder’s gaze was drawn to a man squatting in the corner. In terms of physique and build, this man was the weakest among the slaves.

But his facial features greatly interested Thunder.

A square jaw, broad forehead, tiger-like brows, sword-shaped lips—the man gave Thunder a sense of hidden sharpness, like a sword sheathed in its scabbard.

Judging by his face alone, this man was destined for wealth and nobility, brave and martial, with the makings of a great general in troubled times. Unfortunately, a mole on the Palace of Fortune in his twelve palaces cut off his destiny.

Such a combination of two completely different facial features—Thunder couldn’t figure out why it would appear on one person.

“Sir,” the manager in the room gently tugged Thunder’s sleeve, “it’s better not to take this one.”

“Why?” Thunder glanced at the manager.

“He seems to be both deaf and mute.” As he spoke, the manager shouted at the man, “Why aren’t you standing up?” and lashed him with the whip again.

The man squatting in the corner took the whip solidly, his clothes splitting open and a bloody mark appearing on his skin, but he remained unmoved, only lifting his head to glance over.