夜色如墨,城市的霓虹在雨幕中扭曲成流动的幻光.李乘风伫立在一座废弃商场的后门处,雨水从他额前滑落,在他手腕的"黑钥"图纹上汇聚成一滴光.
他低声唤道:"接入协议."
纹路一闪蓝芒,周围空间如水面般泛起涟漪,现实被撕裂成裂缝.他瞬间消失,进入一条紫黑色调的狭长甬道.
这里是"灰域"——灵界与现实间的裂缝,是灵能者才可潜入的灵感中转地.一道模糊的音频在通道尽头浮现:"编号A17,灵魂残片,起拍价300,000灵点."
他踏入拍卖主厅.
空间扭曲中,座位如浮岛悬空,投影与本体混杂,来者无一不是戴面具的灵级存在.贪婪,杀意,能量波动交织成一张看不见的网.
他启用"隐号B21"身份登录,面前光屏亮起:
> 拍品第5轮:破魂镜.
李乘风轻勾唇角,眼中寒芒一闪:正如预料.
这时,一道低沉女声从他身后传来:"你似乎没有邀请验证."
他语调平静:"但我有筹码."
女子未现身,只脚步轻盈绕至他前方.她身着墨蓝长袍,面具紫曜流光,左眼旁悬浮着一枚六芒阵符文.
她举起手掌,掌心赫然是一片熟悉的符文碎片——那是他特意藏好的.
他眼神一凛:"你在监控我?"
"你制造了痕迹."她回应,"破魂镜与你无关,但你知道它的关键."
第4轮拍品上架.
"你到底是谁?"
"合作者."她伸出手,"否则你连拍场都出不去."
沉默片刻,他握住了她的手.
第5轮开启.
全场沉寂.空中浮现一面破裂镜器,镜面泛红如血,背部雕文诡异蜿蜒,散发出噬魂波动.
主持高声宣读:"第5拍品,破魂镜,起拍价500,000灵点."
竞价声如战鼓,记忆与命运之争,在此刻正式展开.
Chapter 2: The Black Market Auction
Night blanketed the city, rain diffusing neon into spectral hues. Li Chengfeng stood silently by a derelict mall's service gate, droplets tracing down to the glowing symbol—"Black Key"—etched on his wrist.
"Access protocol: Engage," he whispered.
The sigil flared blue. Space folded. With a shudder of light, he stepped into the Grey Domain.
This interstitial layer between realms housed forbidden exchanges. A low-frequency voice called from the depths: "Item A17. Soul Residue. Starting bid: 300,000 spirit units."
He passed through a flickering veil and entered the auction atrium.
Hovering tiers formed a spiral theatre, each seat masked by enchantments. Attendees shimmered between avatars and living bodies. Desire, secrecy, and tension thickened the air.
Alias login: "B21." His console blinked:
> Lot 5 incoming: Soulshard Mirror.
He nodded inwardly. Bullseye.
A voice, gentle but steel-lined, rose behind him: "Your credentials don't match."
He replied without turning: "But I carry value."
Footsteps. Then she stood before him: midnight robes, violet mask, hex-glow near her eye.
"This?" She lifted a luminous shard—his security rune fragment.
Eyes narrowing, he said, "You tracked me."
"You left traces," she said. "The mirror isn't yours. But you know why it matters."
Lot 4 loaded onscreen.
"Your name?"
"Ally—if you agree," she said, extending her hand. "Otherwise, you're already outmatched."
He stared. Then accepted.
Lights dimmed. A fractured crimson mirror floated midair, emanating warped frequencies.
"Lot 5: Soulshard Mirror," the announcer boomed. "Opening bid: 500,000 units."
A war for identity, memory, and truth began—amid shadows.