Shencheng Heights gleamed above him, a jagged crown of neon and steel. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflective. Yan Luo stood at the base, talisman hidden beneath his jacket, heart hammering.
"Remember," Master Su's voice echoed in his memory. "Observe before you act. Borrowing a soul is power—but knowledge is survival."
Yan Luo nodded, taking a deep breath. The entrance to the auction was unassuming: a black steel door between two luxury shops. A small sign read simply: Ghost Market – Members Only.
Inside, the air was thick with incense and whispered deals. Shadows moved like living smoke. People in designer suits, masks, and digital visors gestured over glowing tablets. On raised platforms, souls—trapped, glowing, fragile—hovered inside glass orbs.
Author Thought: Introduce the auction visually and morally—show how the city's elite literally gamble with human lives to hook readers.
Yan Luo felt the talisman pulse. The first soul he had borrowed hummed in resonance. His fingers itched to touch the glass orbs, but he held back. Observation first.
"Over here," a smooth female voice called. Mei Xinyi emerged from a corner, camera slung over her shoulder. "Careful. These people don't play fair."
She led him through the crowd, whispering. "The Syndicate has agents everywhere. One wrong move, and they'll know you're carrying a borrowed soul."
The first auction began. A young executive slammed a gavel, shouting numbers. Orbs flickered, showing fragments of memories—lives up for sale. Yan Luo felt a chill. Each one was a person, a story, a soul trapped for profit.
Suddenly, a figure in a tailored black suit stopped in front of him. Cold eyes scanned Yan Luo. Recognition—or was it suspicion?
"You," the man said, voice low. "You've been meddling where you shouldn't. Step aside."
Yan Luo's pulse quickened. The talisman glowed faintly in his hand. Borrowed memories surged—quick reflexes, instincts, knowledge of the streets. He could fight—but he knew better. He needed subtlety.
Mei Xinyi leaned close. "Do you want my help? Or are you going to get yourself killed?"
He glanced at her. Could he trust her? Could anyone here be trusted? His heartbeat synced with the talisman's pulse.
A whisper cut through his mind: Borrow wisely. Or you die.
Yan Luo swallowed. Survival wasn't just about running or fighting anymore. It was about understanding. About choosing whose soul to borrow—and when.