I Died 2,000 Years Ago: The Underworld Fears Me-Chapter 83 - 80 — He Bought the Man Who Insulted Him
Four military-grade plasma rifles hummed inches from my chest.
The heat radiating from the heavy barrels was intense enough to singe the frayed wool of my lapels. The air between me and the syndicate guards warped and rippled, smelling sharply of ionized ozone and burnt dust. A single twitch from any of those armored fingers would vaporize my torso, leaving nothing but a pair of smoking boots on the pristine white marble.
Broker Lin stood safely behind his wall of silver armor, adjusting his white silk cuffs.
He waited for me to drop to my knees. He waited for the terror to set in. He expected me to beg for my life, to apologize for bleeding on his perfect, sanitized promenade.
I didn’t blink. I kept my eyes locked on the cracked, spider-webbed screen of my cheap smartphone.
"Leveraged?" Lin laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound, completely devoid of actual humor. He snapped his fingers, gesturing for the guards to hold their fire for just a second longer. He wanted to enjoy the execution. "I am a Tier-Three broker for the Zhang Clan. I sit in the Skyboxes. I drink wine older than your entire bloodline. You are a rat holding a broken piece of trash plastic."
"Four hundred and twelve years," I read aloud.
My voice was deadpan. Flat. It carried no anger, no panic, and absolutely no respect for the plasma rifles pointed at my heart.
Lin’s laughter caught in his throat. The smug, aristocratic curl of his lip froze.
I scrolled down the public ledger on the open-market financial terminal. The blue light of the cracked screen reflected in my eyes.
"You owe the Zhang Central Bank four hundred and twelve years of spiritual labor," I continued, swiping my thumb across the jagged glass. "You borrowed against your next three reincarnations just to afford the genetic modifications to smooth your skin. You took out a fifty-year mortgage for the synthetic jasmine cologne you are wearing. You leased that white silk suit."
I looked up from the screen.
"You don’t own the air you breathe, Broker Lin. You are renting it at an exorbitant interest rate."
A murmur rippled through the gathered crowd of elites hovering in their palanquins. In the Ivory Sky, debt was a dirty word. It was a disease. To have your financial ruin broadcasted loudly in the middle of the VIP promenade was worse than being stripped naked.
Lin’s pale, aggressively moisturized face flushed a violent, ugly crimson.
"Shut your mouth!" Lin spat, a bead of sweat breaking out on his forehead. The polished facade completely shattered. He pointed a shaking, manicured finger at my chest. "Kill him! Vaporize this slum trash right now!"
The guards braced their heavy rifles against their shoulders. The plasma coils whined, glowing a blinding, lethal violet.
"Red Dog," I said.
Cling.
The seven-foot Myrmidon didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t step in front of me to take the blast.
He simply raised the sleek silver briefcase and popped the biometric latches.
He opened the lid exactly two inches.
The holy, blinding light of one hundred million spiritual silver bars erupted into the dim, purple gloom of Sector Eight. It hit the elite guards like a physical blow. The sheer karmic density pouring out of the gap forced the armored mercenaries to stagger backward. Their plasma rifles wavered, dipping toward the marble floor as their augmented optics tried to process the impossible concentration of wealth.
"What—what is that?" Lin choked, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes.
I didn’t answer him. I tapped the cracked screen of my phone.
I bypassed the public ledger and logged directly into the Iron Bank’s hostile acquisition portal. The network in Sector Eight was incredibly fast.
Target Asset: Broker Lin. ID-4409.
Total Outstanding Debt: 4.2 Million Silver.
I held the cracked lens of my phone’s camera toward the glowing gap in the briefcase. A thin red laser shot out of my device, scanning the liquid capital inside.
The network registered the proof of funds instantly.
I looked at Lin. He was squinting through his fingers, his chest heaving in absolute panic. He didn’t understand what was happening, but the primal, corporate instincts bred into his DNA told him he was standing on a trapdoor.
"You have five seconds, Broker Lin," I said, mirroring his exact threat from a minute ago.
"Fire! I said fire!" Lin shrieked, kicking the back of the nearest guard’s armored knee.
"Five," I counted calmly. I tapped the Acquire Debt button.
"He’s blinding us! Shoot blindly!"
"Four."
The loading circle on my screen spun.
Ping.
The phone vibrated against my palm. A crisp, green notification banner dropped down over the cracked glass.
[TRANSACTION COMPLETE.]
[ASSET ACQUIRED: BROKER LIN (ID-4409) FULL DEBT OBLIGATIONS.]
[NEW CREDITOR: REN WU.]
"Three," I said.
I lowered the phone. I didn’t need it anymore. The digital transaction was just the modern interface. The true Authority rested in my soul.
I raised my right hand.
The air around the velvet rope dropped by twenty degrees. The synthetic jasmine scent was instantly swallowed by the heavy, ancient smell of burning incense and old paper.
A massive, burning projection manifested in the air above my palm. It wasn’t a sword. It wasn’t a shield.
It was the Golden Ledger.
The heavy, ancient book floated in the air, its pages turning rapidly with a sound like grinding stone. The sheer, absolute Law radiating from the artifact pressed the four elite guards completely to their knees. Their heavy armor clanked loudly against the flawless marble. Their plasma rifles hit the floor, powering down automatically as the Sovereign Authority suffocated the mechanical energy.
"What is that?" Lin whispered, his voice trembling. He fell backward, his polished shoes slipping on the pristine stone. He scrambled away, hitting his back against the obsidian doors of the VIP elevator. "What are you?!"
"Two," I said.
A heavy calligraphy brush materialized in my grip. The bristles dripped with liquid, golden law.
I looked down at the floating Ledger. The ink formed Lin’s name, detailing every single coin he had borrowed, every fraction of his soul he had leveraged to look wealthy.
"You threatened a Sovereign over a dirty footprint," I said, my voice echoing with a heavy, unnatural harmonic. It wasn’t just my voice; it was the combined weight of two thousand years of administrative judgment.
I pressed the golden brush against the page.
"One."
I slashed a single, brutal stamp across his portfolio.
[VOID]
The effect was instantaneous.
I didn’t hit him. I didn’t cut him.
I foreclosed on him.
Broker Lin’s mouth opened in a silent, agonizing scream. The law does not shout; it erases.
Because I had called in the debt, and because he possessed zero capital to pay it, the System immediately repossessed his collateral. And his collateral was his physical existence.
The tailored white silk suit collapsed inward as the flesh beneath it rapidly dehydrated. Lin’s aggressive bio-sculpting reversed in real-time. His skin turned grey, flaking off like dry paint. His eyes rolled back into his skull, sinking deep into hollow sockets as his moisture, his blood, and his stolen lifespan were violently evicted from his body.
Crack. Crunch.
The sound of his bones hollowly snapping under the weight of the immediate debt collection echoed across the silent promenade.
The elites in the hovering palanquins watched in absolute, paralyzed horror. They understood financial ruin. But they had never seen a hostile corporate takeover applied directly to a human soul.
Lin reached a trembling, skeletal hand toward me.
"Please," a dry, dusty whisper escaped his throat.
Then, he dissolved.
The remaining flesh and bone turned entirely to fine, black ash. A warm breeze swept across the marble, catching the ash and blowing it away into the toxic smog of the canyon.
Broker Lin was gone. Deleted from the ledger.
The pristine white silk suit dropped empty to the marble floor in a crumpled heap.
A heavy silence fell over the VIP entrance. The only sound was the quiet hum of the anti-gravity palanquins idling in the air.
The four elite guards remained on their knees, staring at the pile of empty silk clothing. They were terrifying, genetically modified mercenaries. They were programmed to handle physical violence, riots, and assassination attempts.
But they were not programmed to fight an Auditor.
I dismissed the Golden Ledger. The burning book vanished into the air. The temperature returned to normal.
I stepped forward, my dirty boots leaving a fresh print right next to the pile of ash.
I reached down into the empty folds of the white silk jacket.
My fingers brushed against warm metal. I pulled out a heavy, thick platinum card—the VIP Skybox access pass. Attached to a small chain on the card was the platinum lapel pin. The Bleeding Coin.
I wiped a smudge of black ash off the platinum surface with my thumb.
I slipped the card into my breast pocket, right next to the rusted hairpin.
I looked down at the four heavily armed guards kneeling on the marble. They flinched, expecting to be turned to dust next.
"Your contract is with the Zhang Clan to protect corporate property," I told them calmly, adjusting my cuffs. "Broker Lin defaulted on a legal debt. I acquired the asset, and I liquidated it. This was a lawful financial transaction under the Commerce Code of the Ivory Sky."
I looked at the lead guard, a massive brute with cybernetic eyes.
"Are there any aesthetic violations remaining?" I asked.
The guard swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet air. He slowly shook his head, refusing to make eye contact. He reached out with a trembling hand and pressed the call button for the golden elevator.
The heavy obsidian doors slid open with a soft, welcoming chime.
"Thank you," I said.
I stepped into the elevator. The interior was lined with crushed red velvet and polished brass. Soft, classical music played from hidden speakers.
Lingshan followed me in, her hand finally falling away from the hilt of her sword. She looked at the pile of ash on the floor, a faint glimmer of profound respect in her dark eyes.
Red Dog stepped in last. His massive iron bulk caused the gilded elevator to physically dip. He kept the silver briefcase held delicately in his massive claws.
I turned around to face the doors.
The four elite guards stayed kneeling on the marble, heads bowed, until the heavy obsidian doors finally slid shut, cutting us off from the toxic purple sky.
The elevator hummed, engaging its gravity-dampeners as it began the long, high-speed ascent up into the fossilized ribcage of the Flesh Exchange.
I checked my watch.
Forty-six hours. Ten minutes.
We were right on schedule.
[AUTHOR NOTE]
Never insult a man who can buy your mortgage on a cracked smartphone. 💀💼
Ren didn’t just walk through the front door; he foreclosed on the bouncer. The bagman is officially inside the building.
Next up: The Skybox. Ren enters the playground of the Traitor Families, and Red Dog gets ready to show the local gladiators what real density looks like.
If you enjoyed that hostile takeover, smash those Power Stones and Golden Tickets! The stock market is about to bleed! 📈🔥
