A sharp pain shot through her head, making Serena Whitaker stagger before she forced her eyes open. She was in a dim, filthy place, the stench thick in the air. Her hands and feet were bound tightly, rope digging deep enough into her skin to draw blood.

The pain helped clear her mind a bit.

She took in her surroundings—dark, rancid, with a disgusting smell that curled her stomach.

Before she could fully process it all, her scalp felt like it was being torn away. A rough, meaty hand yanked her hair, dragging her out of the cage like she was nothing but trash.

A gruff voice barked over her head.

“She looks half-dead already. Sickly as hell. How much could this one even sell for? Damn it! What bad luck. If that guy hadn’t paid so much, no way I would’ve brought back a walking corpse!”

At those words, Serena’s gaze turned cold, her brows briefly drawing together.

Where the hell was she? And why was this guy dressed so... strange?

She also noticed something odd about her own body—it didn’t feel right.

The man yanked her up and tossed her back into the cage, frowning as he did.

What’s her deal? Wasn’t she just trembling in fear a moment ago? Why is she suddenly so calm?

She gave off this unsettling, icy vibe, like she was dangerous.

It made his skin crawl.

He rubbed at the goosebumps rising on his arms.

But whatever—she was about to be sold anyway. Who cared what her deal was?

With a wave of his hand, he ordered someone to haul the “merchandise” out.

...

Inside the cage.

A thick black cloth draped over the top. Serena couldn’t see a thing outside.

Aside from her initial confusion and shock, she quickly settled back down.

She started to piece things together, trying to figure out what had happened.

The last thing she remembered was meditating during closed-door cultivation in her cave.

Then a strange force pulled her into what felt like a vast, pitch-black void.

When she came to, she was... here. In this filthy cage, weak as anything.

Her body felt all sorts of wrong. Like she couldn’t muster any strength at all.

Narrowing her eyes, Serena focused inwards, trying to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t her world. Somehow, she’d been reborn into someone else’s body in a different realm—one with rules totally unlike her own.

She curled her fingers into an old hand sign, just to test if any of her internal energy was still there.A faint trace of energy stirred in her abdomen, weak and barely there.

Compared to the solid streams of inner power she used to control, this felt like comparing a spark to a wildfire.

Serena Whitaker raised an eyebrow in surprise, though her narrowed eyes quickly settled into that usual, calm acceptance. Figures. Must've been one of those so-called righteous sects who took advantage of her when her guard was down mid-cultivation. Probably used some shady technique to toss her soul into this frail teenage girl's body.

And from the looks of it, this girl had been handed off like property—sold off after someone set her up.

All of a sudden, the lights snapped on.

Serena squinted as the brightness stabbed into her eyes.

She was already moved onto this big-ass stage. A crowd sat below.

And her?

She was cuffed to the bars inside a cage, leaning quietly and warily against it, dressed in some bizarre skintight outfit that screamed “object.”

“Item number: First Bloom of the Rosebud. Age: Eighteen. First time on auction. Still untouched. Interested buyers, feel free to bid. Starting price—”

The auctioneer drew out the sentence with a showman's flair, eyes smiling. “Two hundred thousand.”

“She’s all skin and bones, nothing up top or below, though I gotta admit—that face checks out. Not really my type though. Mr. Lewis, bet this one’s right up your alley?” a guy nearby chuckled, giving the man next to him a knowing smirk.

Mr. Lewis had a thing. A... peculiar taste. He really liked girls at the edge of blooming.

So the moment Serena appeared, his eyes practically lit up.

“I’ll give half a million,” he said smoothly, his pudgy fingers lifted with ease, the way someone casual might order dessert. His eyes stayed locked on Serena’s face, an unsettling mix of interest and twisted amusement. He brushed his lips slowly, already fantasizing what he’d do with her.

“Whoa, Mr. Lewis going big, huh?” another bidder let out a laugh. The girl looked sickly and way too young for most of them; too fierce too—like a little wildcat.

Not their type.

But that was exactly what made Mr. Lewis tick—his particular brand of conquest.

No one was surprised who’d end up with her.