The red-black wasteland stretched endlessly, barren of even the faintest blade of grass.
Jagged rocks jutted up like the bones of flayed spirit beasts,
bleached white under a blood-colored sky.
And yet, in the midst of this desolation—
stood a tavern.
Creak—
Li Zhexian pushed the door open.
A heavy stench hit him at once—foul air thick with the metallic tang of blood.
His gaze swept the interior, calm and steady.
Everything inside was black.
Tables, stools, even the dozen or so people lounging within—each face seemed veiled in a haze of darkness.
The moment he stepped inside,
a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him at once—mocking, greedy, contemptuous, feral—
like wolves sighting prey that had strayed into their den.
Li Zhexian acted as though he hadn't noticed,
walking straight toward an empty seat by the window.
Just as he was about to sit—
Bang!
A leg shot out, kicking the chair aside.
The man was little more than skin and bone, blood-veined eyes bulging from his head.
A nauseating stench of gore clung to him even from several paces away.
He bared his yellowed teeth, voice hoarse and grating.
"Kid, don't you know the rules?"
"You haven't had a Bloody Mary—
so what the hell makes you think you can sit?"
At that, a tavern owner in a stained black coat shuffled over,
pushing a cup of thick, crimson liquid toward Li Zhexian.
"Drink."
The mockery in those watching eyes deepened.
Li Zhexian raised the cup, studying the viscous red within.
"Human blood?" he asked, voice even.
The owner's stiff lips twitched into a grotesque smile.
"More precisely… wine brewed from human blood."
"Hah! Come on, kid—let's see if you've got the guts!"
"If you can't drink it, go home and drink your mother's milk!"
The skin-and-bones man sneered again—
Before the words had faded—
Boom.
A dull sound echoed.
Li Zhexian's hand clamped down on the back of his head.
At the same instant,
a faint humming filled the air.
Blades of transparent sword-qi took shape,
their cold tips aimed straight at the man's face.
Li Zhexian's grip tightened—
and slammed the man's head forward into those blades.
Pffft—
Pffft—
A series of wet, puncturing sounds followed,
like a leather sack being stabbed through.
In an instant,
the man's head became a bleeding sieve—
blood and brain spraying outward in a grotesque mist.
It splattered across the floor, the tables,
and onto the slack, stunned face of the nearest onlooker.
Li Zhexian wiped his bloody hand on that man's shoulder,
then picked up the cup of Blood-Mary.
He took a small sip.
His brows twitched—then his expression turned openly disgusted.
"What a vile drink."
"Low-grade ingredients, miserable brewing technique."
"And this… this you dare call a Bloody Mary?"
With that, he sat down where he pleased.
Inside the tavern,
every trace of mockery vanished.
Only grim silence remained.
The place was filthy,
and even the wine was unworthy of the name.
Li Zhexian had no desire to linger.
"How do I reach the Slaughter City?"
The tavern owner forced a stiff smile.
"The Road to Heaven is narrow," he said hoarsely.
"Only one may walk it."
At those words,
the frozen air shattered beneath a surge of violent Spirit Power.
Dozens of figures moved at once—
Some lunged at the nearest companion, while others locked onto the most dangerous target
At least four or five attacks came crashing toward Li Zhexian.
Threads of sword-qi coalesced before him.
He closed his right hand in the air.
Zheng—!
A clear sword cry drowned out all other noise.
A Spirit Ring blazed to life along the blade,
shimmering with multicolored light,
engraved with twelve sword feathers.
"Third Spirit Ability—Qinglian Twelve Tribulations."
Twelve swords of Qinglian surrounded the dozen men.
Five of them burned with distinct, deadly intent.
In an instant—
The formation bloomed.
The tavern became a domain of swords—
a purgatory forged of killing light.
Starlight poured down like rain.
Ice and fire collided and exploded; violent gales tore through everything;
thunder roared madly—
and death devoured all traces of life.
Through it all, Li Zhexian stood apart, untouched.
He unhooked the Clear Spring Wine Gourd at his waist, tilted it back, and drank deeply—
washing away the lingering taste of that foul, blood-reeking brew from before.
Lowering the gourd,
he wiped his mouth casually with the back of his hand.
With a slight mental command, the sword formation instantly collapsed.
Only a dozen corpses remained, strewn across the floor in widening pools of blood.
Li Zhexian looked toward the tavern owner.
"Now I'm the only one left."
The owner tried to steady his trembling voice.
"You may be the last man standing... but your killing intent is still not enough—"
Zheng—!
His words were cut short.
A sword light flashed across his throat.
The Spirit Rings that had begun to rise from his body flickered out instantly.
His eyes bulged wide.
His head rolled silently to the floor.
Li Zhexian's voice was calm, detached.
"Not a decent one among you. Easier to just kill you all."
He swept his gaze across the ruined tavern.
The air itself began to hum—
threads of sword qi appearing from nothing,
slicing outward.
In an instant, the entire tavern was reduced to drifting ash.
From the emptiness where it had stood,
a sound began to breathe—
Whoosh—whoosh—
A deep crimson light shimmered.
A dark, blood-lit opening appeared in the air,
exhaling a foul miasma that reeked of rust, iron, and brimstone.
"So this… is the entrance to the Slaughter City?"
Without hesitation, Li Zhexian leapt in.
At once, his vision filled with sticky, pulsating scarlet.
A strange sensation enveloped him—
as if submerged in some cold, viscous, foul liquid.
He could feel its slimy pressure wrapping around him,
yet somehow he could still breathe.
The chill seeped into his body like a living thing,
invading every pore.
In his ears,
a chorus of whispers rose—
Rage-filled roars, jealous curses,
greedy chewing, lustful moans—
as though every filthy, fallen, negative emotion in the world
had taken shape here.
As he passed through that nauseating crimson current,
Li Zhexian sensed his Spirit Rings fading rapidly.
Even the ring from the Auspicious Beast Yazi was losing all resonance.
An unseen law coiled around him, sealing everything.
He realized—
only his Qinglian Sword still answered his will.
"So the Slaughter City truly lives up to its name."
"It must be guarded by not one, but two true gods."
He didn't know how long he drifted through that suffocating crimson void,
half-drowned in madness and corruption—
until at last,
his feet met solid ground.
He opened his eyes.
The darkness gradually came into focus.
He looked up.
Above him stretched a sky of eternal darkness.
Across it crawled countless scarlet fissures,
each pulsing faintly like veins alive with blood.
Together they formed a web covering the heavens.
And at the center of that web hung a purple moon,
trapped within,
casting down its sickly light.
The sight was grotesque—
yet magnificent.
Even Li Zhexian felt a chill run through his bones.
He exhaled softly,
eyes fixed ahead.
There—at the edge of sight—
loomed a vast, black city,
sprawling across cracked earth,
radiating a crushing, hopeless weight.
The Slaughter City.