The auction hall dimmed as the next lot rose into view: a soul glowing pale blue, flickering like a trapped flame. It pulse weakly inside a glass orb suspended above the stage.
"Lot Seven," the auctioneer announced, voice booming through hidden speakers. "A combat-trained soul fragment — thirty-six years' experience in security and covert operations. Starting bid: two hundred thousand yuan."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The Syndicate's buyers leaned forward. Yan Luo felt the talisman shiver under his shirt. That soul was alive — desperate.
Beside him, Mei Xinyi tilted her head, eyes glinting. "That's one you could use. Enough reflexes to survive three Syndicate hits in a row."
Yan Luo stiffened. "It's a person."
"Everything here was a person," she murmured. "Question is, do you want to live?"
He swallowed. He could almost hear the trapped soul's thoughts: Help me. A thin echo of despair scratched against his mind.
The auctioneer's gavel slammed once. "Two-fifty!" shouted a masked bidder. "Three hundred!" called another. Prices soared. Yan Luo's pulse rose with each number.
Then the Syndicate man in the black suit raised his paddle. "Five hundred thousand." The hall fell silent.
Yan Luo's vision blurred. The talisman pulsed harder, drawing his palm toward the orb like a magnet. He knew if he reached for it now — even mentally — he could borrow that soul. For a few hours, he would gain its combat instincts, reflexes, and training. Enough to escape. Enough to kill.
But what would it do to him? Two souls in one talisman already stretched the limits.
Mei Xinyi's voice slid into his ear. "Do it. They'll tear you apart otherwise."
Yan Luo's heart thudded. Borrow wisely. Or you die.
He closed his eyes. A storm of neon and whispers swirled around him. He saw Master Su's face, calm and stern. Every soul is trust. Every trust has a price.
The gavel lifted for the final time. "Five hundred going once, going twice—"
Yan Luo's fingers brushed the talisman. A flash of light. The orb cracked. Gasps erupted. The blue soul surged toward him like a desperate wave, colliding with his chest, fusing with his heartbeat.
Alarms blared. The Ghost Market dissolved into chaos. Syndicate agents rose from their seats, shouting.
Yan Luo opened his eyes. His vision sharpened. Every exit lit up in his mind. His body thrummed with power not his own.
And he knew, with a cold certainty: there was no going back now.