Cold iron pressed against Jin's throat before the old black-market dealer could even blink.\n\n"Spill it," Ruan muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through the creaking floorboards of the cramped shop. "Who has the rest of his remains?"\n\nJin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the razor-sharp edge of Ruan's chipped steel blade. Sweat beaded on the old man's brow, dripping down his wrinkled, dust-coated cheeks as his breath came in short, desperate gasps.\n\nAround them, the narrow shelves of the dark shop seemed to close in, packed with illegal magical gear, cracked mana-cores, and glowing jars of stolen essence. The heavy scent of mold, dried blood, and old paper hung thick in the air, making the claustrophobic space feel even smaller.\n\n"Please," the old man wheezed, his eyes wide with a terror that went deeper than simple fear of death. "I only brokered the piece. I didn't dig him up. I swear it on my life!"\n\n"Give me a name," Ruan demanded, his grip like stone. The pressure increased, drawing a tiny bead of crimson that rolled down Jin's wrinkled, leather-like neck. He didn't want to hurt the old man, but the sight of his junior brother's blood-stained tassel had shattered whatever peace he had left.\n\n"Hector," Jin gasped out, clutching at the air with clawed, trembling fingers. "It's Hector. The Executioner. He runs the Blood Arena in the deepest ring of the Undercity."\n\n"Why does he have my brother's tassel?" Ruan's eyes burned with a cold, ancient fury that made the temperature in the room plummet, frosting the glass jars on the nearest shelf.\n\n"He's auctioning it," Jin whispered, tears of pain leaking from his eyes. "Tonight. It's a prize. A relic of the dead era. The wealthy elite from the Upper City pay millions to watch hunters die, and they bid on treasures like that to fuel their private collections."\n\n"Sect treasures are not toys for highborn scum," Ruan hissed.\n\n"To them, they are," Jin pleaded, his voice cracking. "Hector uses them as bait. He lures hunters into his arena, promises them the relics if they survive, and then slaughters them for sport. Please, spare me. I've told you everything I know."\n\nSlowly, Ruan lowered the blade. He stepped back, his chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths.\n\nGuilt clawed at his chest, heavy and suffocating. Junior Brother Chen had been the youngest of them, a bright boy who always snuck extra peaches from the orchard. He had died alone, his body desecrated, and now his memory was being bought and sold like common street garbage in this neon-drenched hellscape.\n\n"Where is the arena?" Ruan asked, his tone flat, devoid of any warmth.\n\n"Down the main pipeline," Jin said, pointing a trembling finger toward the back door of his shop. "Follow the smell of copper and ozone. You can't miss it. But don't go there, kid. It's suicide. Hector is backed by the Constellations themselves."\n\nRuan didn't answer. He turned and walked out into the dark.\n\n---\n\nDarkness swallowed the narrow alleys as Ruan stepped into the damp Undercity air.\n\nNeon signs flickered above, casting greasy puddles in shades of toxic pink and green. The smell of garbage, cheap fuel, and despair hung heavy in the air.\n\nCrowds of desperate, dirt-grimed citizens pushed past him, their eyes hollow, their bodies marked by the glowing brands of their celestial masters. Some had collars that hummed with magical energy, a constant reminder of who owned their souls.\n\nSlavery wore a modern mask here, but it was slavery nonetheless. The gods had taken everything, leaving humanity to rot in the dark while they feasted on their prayers and their blood.\n\nAnger simmered beneath his skin, a controlled burn. For a thousand years, he had slept in his quiet cave, believing he was simply waiting for the world to heal. Instead, his family had been hunted like beasts while he lay in blissful ignorance.\n\nEvery step he took felt like a betrayal of the dead. He had been their senior brother, the strongest among them, yet he had not been there to save them.\n\nReaching the lower sector, the air grew thick with the metallic stench of fresh blood. The ground vibrated with the heavy, rhythmic thud of a bass-heavy sound system.\n\nHeavy steel doors blocked the entrance to a massive subterranean dome. The words 'THE BLOOD PIT' glowed in jagged red neon above the gate.\n\nMuffled roars of a bloodthirsty crowd echoed through the reinforced concrete walls, punctuated by the occasional scream of agony.\n\nTwo heavily armed guards stood at the gate, their armor bearing the emblem of the Constellation of the Iron Bull. They held heavy assault rifles, their eyes scanning the crowd with casual disdain.\n\n"Stop right there," one guard barked, raising his rifle as Ruan approached. "ID or invitation."\n\n---\n\nSilently, Ruan moved.\n\nBefore the guard could register the motion, Ruan's hand clamped over the man's visor. He twisted, using the guard's own momentum to slam his head into the concrete wall with a sickening crack.\n\nPanicked, the second guard fumbled for his weapon, his fingers trembling on the trigger, his eyes wide behind his helmet.\n\nRuan spun, his elbow driving hard into the man's throat. Air hissed out of the guard's lungs as he collapsed, clutching his neck and gasping for breath on the wet floor.\n\nStepping over the unconscious bodies, Ruan pushed open the heavy steel doors and slipped inside.\n\nNoise assaulted his senses immediately. The roar of thousands of spectators filled the vast arena, a wall of sound that vibrated in his teeth.\n\nHigh above the blood-soaked sand, a glass-walled VIP lounge jutted out like a vulture's nest, overlooking the carnage below.\n\nHe bypassed the main stands, heading straight for the private elevator that led to the upper levels.\n\nAnother pair of guards stood outside the gold-plated lift, looking bored. They didn't even have time to draw their sidearms before Ruan's fists silenced them, leaving them slumped against the wall.\n\nStepping into the elevator, he pressed the button for the top floor. The ride was smooth, a stark contrast to the gritty filth of the levels below.\n\nCrashing through the double doors of the VIP lounge, Ruan stepped into a world of obscene luxury.\n\n---\n\nCrystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over plush velvet couches.\n\nMen in tailored suits and women dripping with mana-infused jewels sat sipping champagne, laughing as they watched the screens displaying the brutal fight below.\n\nIn the center of the room, displayed on a velvet cushion inside a glass case, lay the jade-tipped tassel.\n\nIt was stained with dried, ancient blood, yet it hummed with a faint, residual spiritual energy that only a true cultivator could feel. It was Chen's. There was no doubt about it.\n\nA sleek, bald man with a cybernetic eye stood beside the case, gesturing toward it with a gold-plated cane. This was Hector, the Executioner, his chest bearing the heavy brand of a high-ranking demon Constellation.\n\n"Look at the exquisite craftsmanship," Hector sneered, his voice amplified by a collar mic. "A relic from the forgotten age of martial arts. The bones of these weaklings make excellent catalysts, but the personal belongings of their masters hold a unique, nostalgic value. Shall we start the bidding at four million credits?"\n\n"Five million!" a wealthy man in the front row shouted, raising a glowing tablet.\n\n"Six million!" a woman with silver hair countered, her eyes gleaming with greed.\n\nRuan's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword.\n\nVeins bulged along his forearm, his knuckles turning stark white. Every instinct screamed at him to draw his blade and paint the velvet walls with their blood.\n\nHe wanted to watch their heads roll, to hear them beg for mercy just as his brothers must have begged before they were slaughtered.\n\nBut violence here would only bring the entire city's forces down on him before he could secure the relic safely. He needed to be smart. He needed to play their game, just long enough to tear it down from the inside.\n\nForcefully, he reigned in his killing intent, locking it deep within his chest until it burned like molten lead.\n\n---\n\n"I bid my own life," Ruan's voice cut through the chatter like a freezing wind.\n\nSilence blanketed the room as the wealthy elites turned to look at the intruder, their expressions shifting from amusement to disgust.\n\nHector paused, his cybernetic eye spinning as he scanned Ruan from head to toe, noting the simple, worn clothes and the ancient sword at his waist.\n\n"Who let this trash in here?" Hector spat, waving a hand to summon his personal guards. "Get him out."\n\nFour hulking guards, their armor glowing with divine runes, stepped forward with weapons drawn.\n\nRuan didn't flinch. He kept his gaze locked on Hector, his eyes cold and dead.\n\n"You want entertainment," Ruan said, his voice steady and carrying a strange weight that made the air grow heavy. "I will fight in your arena. If I win, I take the tassel. If I lose, you get my body. A true martial artist's body is worth more than any credit amount."\n\nHector's eyebrows shot up in amusement. He raised a hand, stopping his guards.\n\n"A martial artist?" Hector laughed, a grating, wet sound that echoed off the glass walls. "I thought your kind was entirely extinct. You survived the purges?"\n\n"I am the last," Ruan said simply.\n\n"Interesting," Hector mused, stepping closer, his cybernetic eye whirring as he analyzed Ruan. "Very interesting. The crowd would pay a fortune to see a relic of the old world get torn to shreds."\n\n"Do we have a deal?" Ruan asked, his voice flat.\n\nHector laughs and points to the arena floor, where a massive, mutated chimera infused with divine blood is currently tearing three S-rank hunters apart.

Chapter 8: Buying Back the Dead