The place had no sign.
No visible guards.
No clear entrance.
And yet Lin Ye knew they had arrived the instant the air gained weight. It wasn't spiritual pressure or an active formation. It was something subtler: the feeling that every step from this point on counted as a declaration.
—Here —Su Yanlin said under her breath—. Don't cross the threshold unless you've decided what you're willing to lose.
Lin Ye stopped in front of an old wooden door, so ordinary it felt almost insulting for a place like this. There were no visible seals, but the Eye of the Threshold sensed layered transitions stacked on top of one another. Entering wasn't just entering.
It was agreeing to be seen by those who knew how to look.
—I'm not planning to lose everything today —he replied—. Just enough for them to listen.
Su Yanlin watched him a second longer than necessary.
—That's already a dangerous bet.
They pushed the door open.
Inside, the space was larger than it should have been—not through obvious spatial techniques, but through intelligent organization: descending circular platforms separated by shadow and semi-transparent curtains. People didn't look at each other directly. They didn't need to. Here, identities were flexible…
but intentions weren't.
There was no stage.
No auctioneer.
The auction was already happening.
—"…three routes shut down in the North District. Immediate delivery."—"…a minor imperial debt, transferable."—"…administrative silence for six days."
Lin Ye listened without showing a reaction. Every "bid" was a life, an opportunity, or a ruin wrapped in neutral language.
—They don't sell objects —he murmured—. They sell consequences.
—Exactly —Su Yanlin replied—. And everyone here thinks they know what each one is worth.
They moved toward a side section where the shadows were thicker. There, a figure seated alone lifted his head slightly as they approached.
A thin man with an expressionless face and eyes that didn't reflect light. His cultivation was hard to measure—not because it was high, but because it was… flat. As if something had been deliberately removed.
—I didn't expect to see you here, Yanlin —he said softly—. I thought you preferred cleaner markets.
—I did too —she replied—. But today we're looking for something specific.
The man's gaze slid to Lin Ye.
—Ah —he said—. The active variable.
Lin Ye didn't react.
—I'm looking for information —he said—. About someone taken out of the flow without a record.
The man tilted his head.
—That depends —he replied—. Is it merchandise… or is it a message?
Lin Ye held his gaze.
—Both.
The silence between them was brief, but heavy.
—Then you're willing to enter the bidding —the man concluded. —Good.
He tapped the table in front of him with gentle precision.
—A private lot is now open —he announced without raising his voice—. Life retained. Low informational value. Growing symbolic value.
A few heads turned.
Not toward Lin Ye directly.
Toward the concept he'd just introduced.
—Opening bid —the man continued—: silence.
Lin Ye frowned.
—What kind of silence?
—A silence of reaction —the man replied—. For a short period, certain events won't move against you.
Su Yanlin tensed.
—That's too cheap —she said—. And too dangerous.
—It's an opening —the man replied calmly—. The real auction begins when someone else decides to speak.
It didn't take long.
—I offer indirect pressure —a voice said from the shadows—. Reinforced rumors, doubled surveillance.
Another voice joined in:
—I offer relocation —it said—. The boy disappears completely. No corpse. No trace.
Lin Ye's stomach tightened.
—That isn't an offer —he said—. That's a threat.
—Here, there's no difference —the man replied evenly—. Only values.
Lin Ye drew a deep breath. His body protested. The margin tightened.
—My bid —he said at last.
The murmurs died away.
—I offer visibility.
Some figures shifted.
—For a limited time —Lin Ye continued— I won't hide. I won't deny my presence. If something happens… it will be public.
The man raised an eyebrow.
—That increases risk.
—Exactly —Lin Ye said—. And it raises the price of touching what's mine.
The silence thickened.
—Interesting —someone murmured.—That changes the odds —another whispered.
The man in front of them laced his fingers.
—An acceptable offer —he said—. But incomplete.
—What's missing? —Su Yanlin asked.
The man's eyes returned to Lin Ye.
—A guarantee —he replied—. Something that proves you won't back down when the cost manifests.
Lin Ye closed his eyes briefly.
The Eye of the Threshold vibrated in warning. This was not the moment to use it. Not like this.
And yet…
—Tell them —Lin Ye said— that if the life they're holding goes out… the silence breaks.
The man watched him for a long time.
—That's a declaration of conflict —he said—. Not everyone here fears you.
—I'm not asking for fear —Lin Ye replied—. I just want them to know I'll remember.
Something shifted in the atmosphere.
Not pressure.
Not hostility.
Expectation.
—Very well —the man said at last—. The life is maintained… for now.
Lin Ye felt something inside him loosen, just a little.
—But —the man added— the margin has shrunk. From now on, every move you make will be… evaluated.
—It always is —Lin Ye replied.
When they withdrew, Su Yanlin walked several steps in silence before speaking.
—You just put yourself on the list of inconvenient people —she said.
—I already was —he replied—. Now it's just official.
They didn't yet know how much that visibility would cost.
Or that somewhere beneath the city, someone was receiving the order to accelerate the process.