As the historians described—
A soul is the echo of life, feeding on what once made it human.
Indeed.
Thin, twisted shadows clung to the little girl's back, its form half-melted into her spine, as though unwilling to let go.
Black mist seeped from it in slow threads, curling around her neck before dissolving into the air.
Yang stood at a distance, watching the man handle the situation.
"Speak one at a time. What is all this noise about? If there's an issue, explain it properly."
The man frowned, more out of impatience than concern. His brows drew together from the racket.
The crowd lowered their heads, too afraid to offend this young master.
With someone powerful suppressing the area, Yang finally dared to stand a little closer.
In the end, the soul had merely left an imprint for now—unable to fully exert its power, nor act freely.
No matter how terrifying it was, without a living vessel to anchor itself, it was like a blade without a handle.
Understanding this, Yang was naturally emboldened.
"Jing'an!"
At this moment, someone called out familiarly, pushing through the crowd.
"Come take a look here. We suspect something's wrong with a child—"
"Where is she?" Jing'an asked sharply, already moving past him with an unpleasant expression.
The crowd shifted naturally.
His eyes settled on the unnaturally pale child in the woman's arms, breathing shallow and uneven.
"Show me the child," he demanded.
The woman visibly stiffened. See the child?
How could she possibly let him?
One glance would be enough to tear apart the fragile lie she had built. By then, how could it be hidden?
Aunt Chen hugged the girl tighter, almost reflexively.
"Jing'an, it's all a misunderstanding. I already said—she's just tired. It's nothing serious. After some sleep, she'll recover naturally."
Jing'an looked at her calmly and stepped forward. His suspicion deepened.
"Aunt Chen, I just want to take a look. We won't harm her."
Aunt Chen felt a dull weight settled in her chest. She hadn't expected him to be so insistent.
She only wanted to protect her daughter. Was that truly wrong? Who could have known it would come to this?
Yang let out a slow breath in his heart, tapping his fingers as he observed quietly.
This young man, Jing'an, looked simple-minded—but appearances were deceiving.
Good. At least he wasn't blind.
A faint gleam of steel flashed in Yang's in eyes, restrained and cold.
Jing'an's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, subtly making his intent clear.
Something stirred in the air.
A suffocating pressure descended without warning, heavy and formless, like an invisible tide enough to make the crowd uneasy.
Aunt Chen felt her heart plunge.
It's over.
Maybe she had known from the moment Jing'an's gaze settled on her. She had simply been unwilling to accept it.
Why…? She had been so careful—so careful. How could it end like this?
There were countless people in this world. Why her Bubu? Her daughter was still so young. She hadn't even had the chance to grow up.
Her heart thudded violently against her chest, making her breathless. She refused to accept this.
"Please—!"
Aunt Chen dropped to her knees, her last defenses collapsing.
"Please, Jing'an, don't hurt her! She hasn't done anything wrong! You can't take her away from me!"
She cried hoarsely, the child still locked in her arms, she slammed her forehead against the dirt.
"I beg you, Jing'an! She hasn't hurt anyone! I'll watch her—I swear it! I won't let anything happen! Please… please let her go…"
She kowtowed again and again, desperation stripping away every shred of dignity.
But if it were that easy—humanity would've been wiped out long ago.
"Enough."
Jing'an's expression hardened, the faint warmth in his eyes disappearing completely.
"Aunt Chen, that is against the rules." he said flatly, cutting her off. "Do you think your daughter will survive if I let her go today?"
He swept his gaze over the surrounding crowd, their eyes fixed on him as if he were an executioner. Jing'an scoffed at it.
"Tell me, who will take responsibility when it turn on us? Or should I take the chance, let it grow strong enough to wipe is all out? Huh?!"
No one dared to speak.
Annoyance flickered across his face, but his stance never wavered.
Jing'an exhaled, masking his expression as he snapped coldly.
"Aunt Chen. Hand over the child. Don't make me use force."
Aunt Chen shook her head violently, backing away.
Jing'an narrowed his eyes. His patience frayed.
He didn't bother speaking to her again. Instead, he gestured indifferently to the men behind him.
"Take the child away."
"No! You can't!" Aunt Chen screamed as rough hands seized her arms. "You can't take her! She's only sick! She's my child—my child!"
The little one was half-conscious, her small body burning hot. When she was pulled away, her head lolled weakly, a soft whimper escaping her lips
"Mother..."
The men pried her away, separating the woman from the child, firm and resolute.
Aunt Chen lunge forward like a madwoman, clawing, biting, crying. "Give her back! You can't take her away! Give my daughter back!"
Her cries echoed through the open space as the child was carried farther and farther away.
Jing'an's jaw tightened, as if barely restraining his temper. He looked down at her, hoping she would understand.
"Aunt Chen, don't worry. We're only isolating her for now. Keeping her with you would only be dangerous."
"…Isolating?"
She laughed weakly through her tears, then collapsed to the ground.
"...Isolating?"
She laughed weakly through her tears, then slumped to the ground.
It sounded reasonable, didn't it?
Hell—it did.
Yang stood frozen, his mind refusing to process what was happening.
…Wasn't this development a little too disrespectful to the audience?
The absurdity hit him all at once.
He suddenly wanted to slap himself hard across the face.
Wake up. How did he forget?
Hah.
A cold chuckle escaped his lips. It dawned on him—
So this was the beginning of Arcana.
An era where ignorance killed more people than monsters ever did.