Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 712: Chapter 712 – Taming the Fifth Year – Millions

“Everything is identical,” he murmured with growing astonishment, glasses slipping down his nose as he bent over the samples. “Same quality, same age, same processing… No variation.”

The young apprentice started examining the remaining backpacks, his expression transforming from that anticipated dread to pure relief.

“There aren’t ’different elemental types looking the same’ here like you warned me about,” he reported with a voice rising in pitch from excitement, the joy of someone discovering their first day wouldn’t be the hell he’d been promised. “No different parts from different beasts, no mixed ages. Everything, absolutely everything, is first-quality weaver silk.”

The three evaluators looked at each other.

Understanding passing between them. The kind of understanding that came from shared professional experience, from knowing exactly what they’d been saved from.

Then, simultaneously, they smiled.

Real smiles… Genuine relief and satisfaction mixing into expressions that suggested Ren Patinder might have just become their favorite student for entirely unexpected reasons.

“You magnificent bastard,” the gray-bearded one said with good feeling. “You actually found a mountain of the one material that’s the most expensive possible in the rank limits.”

“Do you know what this means, Patinder?” the gray-bearded one asked, his tone completely different now… Not the resigned suffering of before. “Apart from a general review to ensure consistent quality in each backpack, this won’t be nearly as much work as we thought. We can process this in a fraction of the usual time.”

For evaluators who’d built their careers around the nightmare logistics of mixed-material deliveries… Uniform product meant uniform evaluation.

What should have taken days would take hours. What should have required rotating shifts and emergency staffing would be handled by their regular team.

Ren Patinder had somehow turned their professional hell into a best-case scenario.

“Good to hear,” Ren responded with the casual tone he always subconsistently copied from his father.

The middle-aged one was already making mental calculations, his fingers moving over an abacus with speed. Impressive speed, even if not quite Theodore speed…

Click-click-click of beads sliding along wires, the rhythm of expertise translating quality into concrete numbers.

“Weaver silk, optimal quality, perfect age, from the best parts of the Silver 3 ring…” His voice took on the particular cadence of someone reciting market data memorized through years of professional necessity.

“We’re talking about the only Silver rank material valued in the market at a price comparable to or greater than many Gold-rank materials… approximately ten thousand crystals per roll, one hundred per backpack. Maybe twenty million for everything if the complete review confirms this quality throughout all the cargo.”

The numbers hung in the air…

Twenty million crystals.

Ren’s team, which had been waiting in silence, exploded into exclamations.

“One hundred thousand?” one of them repeated, incredulous, the number so large it didn’t feel real. “Per backpack?”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word. Composure shattering against the reality of wealth beyond anything he’d imagined earning as a student.

“And we’re carrying sixty-five of the two hundred,” another calculated rapidly, mental math racing ahead of shock. “That’s…”

“More than six million crystals that Ren practically gifted us,” the girl completed, her voice barely a reverent whisper. “Among the four of us and just for the first trip…”

The words felt impossible. Six million crystals divided four ways. One and a half million each.

Klein calculated with a mix of complex emotions churning in his chest.

Surprise at the sheer amount. Gratitude for Ren’s generosity in letting them keep what they carried. And something that felt dangerously close to shame at how close he’d come to betraying someone who’d offered this kind of opportunity freely.

Ren had promised from the beginning that they’d keep what they carried. Each person would receive the full value of their personal backpacks. And Klein had carried twenty of those sixty-five backpacks on this trip.

Two million crystals.

The number echoed in his mind, transforming from abstract concept into reality.

Despite having been from one of Yano’s ’best’ families, Klein was now nearly broke.

When his family fell into disgrace because of his idiot brother, the brother who’d played with corruption like it was a toy, who’d risked everything for power he didn’t understand, who’d nearly destroyed everything the Goldcrests had built over generations… Klein had been left with very few things to his name.

The family mansion? Confiscated by the crown. Seized as restitution for crimes committed under its roof.

The investments? Frozen. Tied up in legal proceedings that would take years to resolve, if they ever did. Probably being quietly siphoned by lawyers and administrators.

The social contacts? Evaporated. Fair-weather friends who’d smiled and schemed with his family suddenly discovering urgent business elsewhere the moment the Goldcrest name became toxic.

He’d been left with his beast, his skills, and his pride.

The first two were valuable…

The third had nearly destroyed him through poor choices.

Two million crystals wasn’t a fortune. Not really… It wasn’t anywhere close to being sufficient to rebuild what he’d lost, to restore the Goldcrest name to its former position among the great houses.

But it was a substantial beginning. A foundation he could build on. Seed money that could be invested wisely, that could open doors, that could prove to skeptics he was worth taking seriously again.

And more than that, so much more than the money itself… It was earned honestly.

No tricks, no manipulations and no depending on sordid agreements with opportunistic nobles who’d demand payment in loyalty and obedience. No fake marriages to desperate heiresses. No political games that would have left him feeling dirty for the rest of his life.

This was clean money. Earned through hard work, risk, and choosing the right person to trust when it mattered most.

Besides, two more ’work trips’ remained.

Forget about not sleeping for 3 days… If each trip brought similar amounts, he’d be looking at six million total. Enough to seriously start rebuilding his base.

“Thanks,” Klein murmured, so low it was barely audible even in the relative quiet of the evaluation area.

But Ren heard it.

He looked back, nodded once… acknowledgment without making it into something bigger than it needed to be, and then returned his attention to the evaluators.

“We’ll be back with more,” Ren informed the three men, who groaned again but with less suffering this time.

The groans were almost performative now.

“Of course you will,” the gray-bearded one sighed with the resignation of someone whose life had been made simultaneously harder and easier by the same person.