The spiral staircase seemed endless, winding down into the belly of the ship like a throat swallowing a meal.
The air grew colder with every step. The scent of perfume faded, replaced entirely by the smell of antiseptic and rust.
When Jiang Daolin stepped onto the bottom deck, he found himself in a vast, circular amphitheater.
It looked like an ancient Roman Colosseum, but instead of stone, it was made of cold steel and glass. In the center stood a brightly lit stage. Surrounding it were hundreds of VIP seats, hidden in the shadows.
"Sir, your seat is number 44." The manager bowed and retreated into the dark.
In the East, this number sounded like "Death."
Jiang Daolin sat down. He looked around. Every seat was occupied by people wearing masks—wolves, pigs, snakes. They sat in silence, their eyes fixed greedily on the empty stage.
Clang!
A heavy gong sounded. The lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight on the center stage.
A man in a pristine white tuxedo walked out. He wore a mask of a smiling clown.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the abyss of desire!" The host's voice boomed through the speakers. "Tonight, we have fresh 'spare parts' harvested just hours ago. Young, healthy, and full of vitality!"
Applause erupted from the shadows. It sounded like the flapping of bat wings.
"Let's bring out Lot Number One!"
A cage rose from the floor. Inside wasn't an animal. It was a man.
He was tied to a medical chair, his mouth gagged. He was muscular, wearing a torn athletic jersey with the number "107" on it.
Jiang Daolin's pupils shrank. He recognized that jersey. This man was a famous marathon champion who had vanished from the news a month ago. Everyone thought he had retired; turns out, he was here.
"Look at these legs!" The host walked over and patted the man's thighs like he was inspecting a piece of beef. "Explosive power! Perfect muscle density! The owner of these legs ran 42 kilometers in under two hours!"
"For those of you suffering from muscle atrophy or necrosis, this is your second chance at youth!"
"Starting bid: Five million!"
The man in the chair struggled violently, tears streaming down his face. He looked at the audience, begging with his eyes. Please... I'm a human... not a product...
But no one cared.
"Six million!" "Eight million!" "Ten million!"
The bidding paddles went up one after another.
"Sold! To the gentleman in the VIP box for 12 million!" The host slammed his gavel. "Prepare for immediate extraction surgery!"
Two doctors in blue scrubs walked onto the stage carrying a buzzing electric bone saw.
Zzzzz—
The sound of the saw piercing flesh and bone echoed through the silent hall. Blood splattered onto the transparent glass shield surrounding the stage.
The champion screamed, his voice muffled by the gag, his body convulsing in agony.
In the audience, people were cheering. Some were even clinking champagne glasses, celebrating their "purchase."
Jiang Daolin sat in seat 44, motionless. His hands gripped the armrests so hard that the metal began to warp under his fingers.
This isn't an auction. This is a slaughterhouse.
"Next item!" The host wiped a drop of blood from his mask. "Lot Number Two is something special. A rare delicacy for our most distinguished guests."
Another cage rose.
This time, it was a girl. She looked no older than sixteen. She was curled up in the corner of the cage, shivering. She wore a thin white dress, her skin pale and translucent.
"Lot Number Two: A 'Medicine Girl' from the remote mountains," the host introduced enthusiastically. "She has the rare RH-negative blood type. Her bone marrow has been tested to contain unique regenerative enzymes."
"She is a walking panacea! Drink her blood, eat her marrow, and you will feel twenty years younger!"
"Starting bid: Twenty million!"
Boom!
Something snapped inside Jiang Daolin's mind.
Medicine Girl. Remote mountains. Blood and marrow.
The image of the girl on stage overlapped with the face of his sister, Xiaoyu. Three years ago, was Xiaoyu sold like this? Was she put in a cage, looked at by these monsters, and bought to be drained dry?
"Twenty-five million!" A fat man in a pig mask shouted excitedly. "My liver is failing! I need her!"
"Thirty million!"
"Fifty million!"
The price climbed higher and higher. The girl in the cage looked out at the sea of masks, her eyes dead and hopeless.
"Fifty million going once! Fifty million going twice..."
"One dollar."
A cold voice cut through the frenzy like an ice blade.
The entire hall fell silent. Everyone turned to look at seat number 44.
Jiang Daolin stood up slowly. He adjusted his fox mask.
"I bid one dollar," he repeated, his voice calm but carrying a terrifying weight.
"Sir?" The host frowned. "Is this a joke? The minimum increment is one million."
"I'm not buying her," Jiang Daolin walked down the aisle, heading toward the stage. The red box on his back seemed to hum with a murderous aura.
"I'm buying your lives."
"Security!" The host yelled. "Throw this madman out!"
Four heavily armed guards rushed at Jiang Daolin with electric batons.
Jiang Daolin didn't stop. He raised his right hand.
Flash.
Three silver needles shot out from his fingertips, trailing invisible threads.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The needles pierced the guards' throats instantly. They didn't even scream. They just collapsed mid-run, sliding across the floor.
Jiang Daolin stepped onto the stage. He stood in front of the trembling girl's cage and looked at the host.
"You like cutting people open?"
Jiang Daolin opened his red box. He took out a scalpel that gleamed with a cold light.
"Good. Because tonight, I'm going to teach you a lesson in anatomy."
"Lesson one: The heart is located on the left, but for people like you..."
Jiang Daolin's figure vanished. In the next second, he appeared right behind the host.
"...you don't have one."
Slash!
Blood sprayed into the air like a red curtain, dyeing the white tuxedo crimson.
The auction was over. The massacre had begun.