[HOST INTEGRITY: 20%]
[LOCATION: SECTOR 9 - SURFACE ENTRANCE (THE ALLEY)]
[TIME: 11:00 PM (NEXT DAY)]
The alley behind the convenience store was quiet.
To the naked eye, it was just a dead-end stuffed with dumpsters, broken bottles, and the smell of old grease and wet cardboard.
To Ren's [Spirit Sight], it was a loaded gun.
The asphalt was vibrating.
Not from traffic. From bodies.
"Ren..." Jian whispered, standing five feet back from the sewer grate. His knuckles were white around his backpack straps. "The ground is moving."
Ren checked his watch.
"That's not movement," he said, adjusting his mask. "That's Demand."
It had been exactly twenty-four hours since the "Free Sample" drop.
The effects of the Spirit Incense (Type-F) suppressed hunger for roughly six hours. That meant the test subjects below had spent eighteen hours with the hunger clawing back into their bones.
Eighteen hours of remembering what relief felt like.
Eighteen hours of losing it again.
Ren stepped forward and kicked the metal grate three times.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The reaction was instantaneous.
The grate didn't just rattle; it buckled inward.
A sound like a thousand punctured lungs screaming erupted from the darkness below.
Pale, translucent hands burst through the bars, clawing at the night air.
"MASTER!"
"SMOKE! GIVE US THE SMOKE!"
"PLEASE!"
"IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"
Jian stumbled back, nearly tripping over a trash bag.
"Ren... there were fifty yesterday." He stared down into the swarm of glowing, desperate eyes. "There are... there are hundreds down there now."
"The Referral Program worked," Ren noted calmly. He pulled a heavy padlock key from his pocket. "I told them: bring five new customers, get one free stick. Marketing 101."
Ren unlocked the grate and swung it open.
He didn't retreat. He stood right at the lip of the hole, looking down into the sea of glowing eyes.
The smell of ozone was gone. All that remained was the thick, rotting stench of spiritual starvation.
The ghost with the broken neck from yesterday shoved its way forward, trampling weaker spirits aside. Its eyes were bloodshot with manic need.
"I brought them!" it shrieked, holding up a rusted coil of copper wire. "I brought the metal! Give me the cure!"
Behind it, the mob surged.
Ren saw the shift in their eyes. They weren't just hungry; they were feral. If he showed weakness now, they would climb out and tear him apart to get to the bag.
If he panicked, he was dead.
Ren pulled the Tiger Seal from his pocket.
He didn't activate the full suppression—it cost too much HP. He just let it flare.
A brief, red flash of Authority rippled outward like a shockwave.
"QUEUE!" Ren barked.
The word cracked like a whip.
The ghosts flinched. The surge stopped instantly. They looked at the red light of the Seal, instinctual fear warring with their addiction.
"This is not a riot," Ren stated, his voice cold and projected. "This is a Transaction."
He pointed to the concrete wall of the alley.
"Form a line. If you push, you get nothing. If you scream, you get nothing. If you try to steal..."
Ren lit a single stick of incense. He let the purple smoke curl up for a second, then crushed it under his boot.
"...I close the shop."
The silence was absolute.
The threat of losing the supply was more terrifying than the Tiger Seal.
Slowly, trembling with effort, the ghosts scrambled out of the sewer and lined up against the wall.
Ren sat on a plastic crate he had brought with him. He set up a small folding table.
"Next," Ren said.
The Broken Neck Ghost stepped up. He slammed the copper wire onto the table. It was dirty, stripped from a construction site, but it was solid copper.
[ITEM: SCRAP COPPER (5 LBS)]
[VALUE: ~20 COINS]
Ren nodded. He handed the ghost one stick of incense.
The ghost didn't even wait to light it. He shoved the stick into his mouth, absorbing the essence directly. He collapsed against the dumpster, sobbing in relief.
"Next."
A weeping woman placed a silver locket on the table.
Ren checked it. Low spiritual value, but the silver was real.
[ITEM: TARNISHED SILVER LOCKET]
[VALUE: ~10 COINS]
Ren handed her a stick.
"Next."
A thin, child-like ghost placed a dead rat on the table.
Ren paused. He looked at the rat. He looked at the ghost.
"No organic waste," Ren said flatly. "I accept metal, jewelry, or information. Get out of the line."
"Please..." the ghost wailed. "I'm hungry..."
"Get. Out," Ren said.
He didn't offer charity. Charity didn't buy body refinement pills.
The ghost was shoved aside by the next customer—a hulking spirit carrying a stolen car battery.
Jian stood behind Ren, his job reduced to "Inventory Management." He was stacking the copper and batteries into a pile.
"Ren," Jian whispered, looking at the growing mountain of scrap. "This is... thousands of dollars in recycling."
"We aren't recycling," Ren murmured, accepting a gold tooth from a ghost. "We are extracting value from the waste stream."
The line was moving smoothly. Ren had distributed 40 sticks.
Then, the atmosphere shifted.
A ghost at the back of the line—a spindly thing with no jaw—suddenly flew forward. It didn't walk; it was thrown.
It hit the wall and dissolved into mist.
A new figure stepped out of the shadows of the sewer entrance.
This ghost wasn't starving. It was bloated. Its skin was a sickly green, and it wore a tattered leather vest with a red bandana tied around its arm.
It held a jagged spectral knife.
[ENTITY: TRIAD ENFORCER (LEVEL 3)]
[AFFILIATION: RED BANDANA GANG]
The starving ghosts scattered, terrified.
The Enforcer floated toward the table. He looked at the pile of copper. He looked at the incense.
Then he looked at Ren.
"You're in our territory, flesh-bag," the Enforcer growled. His voice sounded like wet gravel. "Sector 9 belongs to the Red Bandanas. You pay the tax, or we bleed you."
Jian froze. "Ren... Level 3. That's higher than the Bell Tower ghost."
Ren didn't stand up. He didn't reach for the Tiger Seal.
He just looked at the Enforcer.
"I am conducting licensed commerce," Ren lied smoothly. "Interfering with a merchant is a violation of the Peace Treaty."
"I wipe my ass with the treaty," the Enforcer laughed. He raised the knife. "Give me the stash. All of it."
Ren sighed.
He looked at the fifty starving ghosts shivering against the wall. They were terrified of the Enforcer.
But they were more terrified of going back to the hunger.
Ren held up a handful of incense sticks. Five of them.
He looked at the starving mob.
"Whoever removes this pest," Ren announced, "gets a Week's Supply."
The silence stretched for one second.
The Enforcer sneered. "They're trash. They won't—"
SCREEEE!
It wasn't a battle. It was a feeding frenzy.
The starving ghosts didn't attack like warriors; they attacked like rats.
Fifty of them launched themselves at the Enforcer.
They bit. They clawed. They tore at his spectral form with desperate, maniacal strength.
"Get off!" the Enforcer shouted, slashing. He killed one. He killed two.
But ten more latched onto his arms. Twenty piled onto his back.
They dragged him down.
They tore him apart, limb by spectral limb, until there was nothing left but fading green mist.
Ren watched the violence with a flat expression.
When it was over, the Broken Neck Ghost stood up, panting, holding the Enforcer's dropped knife.
He looked at Ren.
Ren tossed the five sticks of incense onto the ground.
"Transaction complete," Ren said. "Next customer."
High above the alley, on the rooftop of the convenience store, a figure watched.
Ye Lingshan lowered her binoculars.
She felt the spiritual fluctuation. She saw the frenzy.
She saw the boy in the mask controlling a horde of ghosts not with magic, but with... trade.
She frowned, tapping her sword case.
"Someone is organizing the vermin," she whispered to the wind. "That's... new."
She pulled out her notebook.
[LOG: ANOMALY DETECTED IN SECTOR 9]
[ACTION: INVESTIGATE SOURCE]
Down in the alley, Ren looked up at the roof.
He saw nothing but darkness.
But he felt the gaze.
We're growing too fast, Ren thought, handing a stick to a weeping ghost. The predators are waking up.