the Ninth District
“Please, I’m begging you… let me go! My dad will pay you back. He will, I swear!”
“Shut up! Make another sound, and I’ll cut your tongue out!”
A damp, suffocating stench of rust and cheap disinfectant slithered into Isabella Hart’s lungs like an icy serpent.
Her stomach twisted violently. She choked and coughed, dragging herself back to consciousness through the haze of excruciating pain.
The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by a single, flickering tungsten bulb dangling precariously overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow.
Far from offering any warmth, its feeble light only made the cramped, filthy surroundings look like something straight out of a nightmare.
This was a prison cell converted from an underground storage room.
Windowless concrete walls enclosed her on all sides. The plaster had peeled away in places, exposing patches of black mold that resembled grotesque, twisted faces.
Isabella found herself curled up on a musty, mold-stained carpet. Her hands and feet were unbound, yet an overwhelming weakness had seeped deep into her bones, leaving her struggling to move even a single finger.
She remembered sorting medicinal herbs at the clinic when her stepfather, William Hart, had suddenly burst in, wearing an ingratiating smile. He had told her he was taking her to meet an important client—someone who could solve the clinic’s financial troubles.
Although Isabella had been wary, she had still gotten into the car for the sake of protecting the clinic her late mother had left behind.
Little had she known that the tea she’d been given was drugged.
And when she woke up again, she was here.
“Save your strength. There’s no point trying to escape.”
A weak female voice came from the corner.
Isabella struggled to turn her head, her pupils contracting in shock.
There were seven or eight girls crammed into the tiny room with her.
Most of their clothes had been torn and left in disarray. Some were wearing nothing but their underwear, their exposed skin covered in purple bruises and dark marks. It was painfully clear they had been subjected to unspeakable cruelty.
The girl who had spoken huddled in the farthest corner, her eyes as hollow as two dried-up wells.
“Once you’re in the Ninth District, there’s only one way out: dead. No one leaves here on their own two feet.”
The Ninth District!
Those three words struck Isabella like a bolt of lightning.
A dark urban legend whispered about in the shadows of the capital, the Ninth District was a lawless territory that stood beyond the reach of the authorities.
They said it was a playground for the rich and powerful, an arena where humanity itself was stripped away.
As long as you had money, you could buy anything here—even another human being’s life.
A bone-deep chill swept through Isabella. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
William Hart had truly sunk to such depraved depths.
Although Isabella Hart had been wary, she’d still gotten into the car to protect the clinic her late mother had left behind.
Little had she known that the tea she’d been given was drugged.
And when she woke up again, she was here.
“Save your strength. There’s no point trying to escape.”
A weak female voice came from the corner.
Isabella struggled to turn her head, her pupils contracting in shock.
Seven or eight girls were crammed into the tiny room with her.
Most of their clothes had been torn and left in disarray. Some were wearing nothing but their underwear, their exposed skin covered in purple bruises and dark marks. It was painfully clear they’d suffered unimaginable cruelty.
The girl who’d spoken huddled in the farthest corner, her eyes as hollow as two dried-up wells.
“Once you’re in the Ninth District, there’s only one way out: dead. No one ever walks out of here alive.”
The Ninth District!
Those three words struck Isabella like a bolt of lightning.
A dark urban legend whispered about in the shadows of the capital, the Ninth District was a lawless territory beyond the reach of the authorities.
They said it was a playground for the rich and powerful, an arena where humanity itself was stripped away.
As long as you had money, you could buy anything here—even a human life.
A bone-deep chill swept through Isabella. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
William Hart had truly sunk to such depraved depths!
To repay millions in loan shark debts, William Hart had actually sold his own stepdaughter into a place where people were devoured alive and never heard from again.
“No… I don’t believe it. I want to get out of here!”
A girl in a torn evening gown suddenly snapped. She hurled herself at the heavy iron door, pounding on it frantically.
“Let me out! I’m the heiress of the Zhao family! Do you have any idea who I am? My father will kill you all!”
BANG!
The only response was the harsh clatter of the small food hatch being yanked open.
A stun baton crackling with electricity shot through the opening, striking the girl squarely in the shoulder.
“ZZZT—!”
Blue electric arcs flashed, accompanied by the bone-chilling crackle of the current.
“AAAAAHHHH!”
The girl screamed and collapsed, her body convulsing violently. Within seconds, the stench of scorched flesh filled the air.
“The Zhao family? In the Ninth District, even the Emperor himself would have to kneel!”
A man’s coarse, venomous laughter came from beyond the door.
“Every last one of you better behave! Tonight is the night Lord Buddha comes to inspect the merchandise himself. Anyone who breaks the rules will end up in the crocodile pit as fish food!”
Lord Buddha?
The moment the title was mentioned, the girls who had been quietly sobbing fell utterly silent. They huddled like quails caught in a predator’s grip, terror deepening in their eyes.
Isabella had no idea who this man was, but the deathly silence around her told her one thing instinctively: whoever he was, he was a danger beyond anything she’d faced before.
The girl who had been electrocuted lay motionless on the floor, frothing at the mouth. Her body still twitched occasionally, yet she didn’t dare make another sound.
Time dragged on, second by agonizing second.
The uncertainty was more torturous than any punishment.
Isabella forced herself to stay calm.
She had studied traditional medicine and incense blending, which had made her exceptionally sensitive to scents.
Amid the stench of urine, blood, and mold, she caught a faint fragrance that didn’t belong in this place.
Ambergris.
It was mixed with the subtle bitterness of wormwood and the smoky scent of a fine cigar.
Ambergris of this quality was worth a fortune per gram. No ordinary guard could afford to use it.
That meant someone important was coming.
CLANG!
The heavy iron door was kicked open from the outside.
Blinding white light flooded the room, forcing everyone to squeeze their eyes shut.
Several bodyguards in black suits and sunglasses filed inside. None carried visible firearms, but the suspicious bulges beneath their jackets said more than enough.
The last man to enter wore a traditional Chinese silk jacket. Middle-aged, he rolled two walnuts between his fingers, his murky, triangular eyes roaming over the girls as shamelessly as a buyer inspecting livestock.
“This batch looks decent enough.”
A lecherous glint flickered in his eyes.
“Especially that one in the white dress in the corner. Such a delicate face, and those eyes… so stubborn. Makes her all the more tempting.”
He was talking about Isabella.
Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and seized her, dragging her up like a lifeless animal.
“Let go of me!” Isabella struggled desperately, but her malnourished body stood no chance against men trained for violence.
SLAP!
The man in the silk jacket struck her hard across the face.
Isabella’s head snapped to the side. Blood instantly welled at the corner of her mouth, and a piercing ring filled her ears.
“Ungrateful little bitch!”
He grabbed her chin, squeezing so hard it felt as though he might crush her bones.
“Serving Lord Buddha is an honor you wouldn’t earn in ten lifetimes. If he takes a liking to you, you’ll rise from the dirt and become a princess overnight. But if he doesn’t…”
He let out two sinister chuckles before leaning close to Isabella Hart’s ear.
“Then you’ll be sent to the basement, where you’ll rot into a puddle of filth beneath a pack of degenerate gamblers and junkies.”
Isabella’s heart plunged into an icy abyss.
She was yanked to her feet and, along with several other girls who had been selected, roughly shoved out of the cell.
The corridor stretched on endlessly, with a black-suited bodyguard stationed every few yards.
Abstract paintings of questionable authenticity adorned the walls, while thick Persian carpets muffled their footsteps. Without the cold, merciless eyes of the guards, the place could easily have passed for a palace.
But beneath all that luxury lurked a nauseating world of depravity.
They were led to a grand door carved from dark rosewood.
The man in the silk jacket straightened his collar. The arrogance vanished from his face, replaced in an instant by a fawning, obsequious smile, as though he had put on an entirely different mask.
He knocked carefully, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if afraid to disturb a god.
“Lord Buddha, the new arrivals are here. Please have a look.”
Isabella bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood.
She didn’t want to go inside.
Her instincts screamed that whatever lay beyond that door was far more terrifying than the cell she’d just left behind.
It was the deepest circle of hell.
“Come in.”
A man’s voice drifted through the crack in the door—deep, rich, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Just one word, yet it carried such terrifying authority that it made everyone instinctively want to bow their heads in submission.
Isabella felt her knees begin to buckle.
The grand doors slowly swung open.
A rich wave of sandalwood incense washed over them, instantly overwhelming the stale air of the corridor.
But instead of bringing a sense of peace, the fragrance felt like an impenetrable web, drawing everyone into a suffocating shadow from which there was no escape.
