The teahouse smelled of jasmine and smoke. Steam curled from small ceramic cups, weaving patterns like restless spirits. Master Su sat behind the counter, calm as ever, watching Yan Luo slump into a chair.
"You survived," Su said. "But survival isn't mastery."
Yan Luo rubbed his temples. His body still trembled from the alley fight, his mind buzzing with fragments of someone else's memories. "How… how do I control it? The powers, I mean."
Su slid a cup toward him. "First, understand what you carry. Each soul has its fears, its desires. Borrowing without empathy is suicide. Or worse—corruption."
Author Thought: Emphasize moral stakes and consequences. Borrowing souls isn't just power—it's responsibility, which deepens Yan Luo's character.
Yan Luo stared at the talisman. He could still feel her—the red-dress woman. Her fear. Her anger. Her hope. She wasn't gone. Not really.
"Close your eyes," Su instructed. "This time, you will lend your consciousness to her world, not just see it. Walk it. Feel it. And return."
Sweat prickled his forehead. He did as told. Darkness swallowed him, replaced by a sunlit courtyard—memory of the woman in red. He ran, dodged, fell, felt panic claw at him… and then calm. She guided him, silently, like a hand on his back.
He blinked. He was back. He was himself. But not quite. He had changed.
Su nodded. "Good. Control comes from respect. Never force a soul. Listen. Only then can you borrow without being consumed."
A soft ding from Yan Luo's phone interrupted them. A notification: Soul Broker Auction – Tonight, Shencheng Heights.
Yan Luo's stomach sank. The Syndicate wasn't done. They were escalating.
"Looks like your education continues," Su said, voice low. "They want that talisman. And if they can't get it from you… they will get it from whoever you care about."
Outside, neon rain drummed against the streets. Shadows shifted, and Yan Luo realized he was not just a rider anymore. He was a player in a city that traded in the essence of life itself.