The viscous darkness carried a biting chill.
Ten figures emerged from the narrow passageway.
The instant their eyes fell upon the man in black—
all nine others blanched.
"Damn it!"
"It's the Blood Slaughter Sword!"
"Out of thousands of matches, we had to run into him!"
Before the words even faded,
the nine moved in perfect unison, springing into attack.
Spears shot forth like venomous snakes,
fists crashed down like hammers shattering stone…
Two among them struck with force clearly beyond the limits of ordinary Spirit Power—
each one had grasped the rudiments of Technique Dao.
Buzz—!
A single sword light flared to life.
That light was so red it seemed viscous—
and from the blade, actual drops of blood dripped down.
The overwhelming scent of iron and slaughter filled the arena,
smothering every other trace of killing intent.
Pchhh—!
Seven bodies were cleaved cleanly at the waist,
blood mist blooming like Red Spider Lilies.
The remaining two were hurled backward, crashing into the ground.
Their palms slapped into the pools of blood for leverage—
but before they could leap again, a faster flash of blood-red light fell from above.
Li Zhexian's sword
was faster than their instinct to survive.
Ssst—
Two heads rolled to the ground,
faces frozen in the utmost terror.
And yet the headless bodies—
their last momentum from that palm strike still lingering—
remained eerily upright for a moment before collapsing.
Thirty-sixth match. Contestant 9501 — Victory!
From the darkness surrounding the arena,
a collective hiss of indrawn breath echoed—a sound that could not be stifled.
The Slaughter Arena
was not without an audience.
Pay one cup of Bloody Mary,
and one could spectate the lower-level matches.
The higher the tier, the greater the cost to watch.
In the darkness, with identities concealed and caution prevailing, no one dared to make a move.
At this moment—
A multitude of stunned gazes
locked tightly upon the blood-robed youth
seated cross-legged in the center of the arena.
"He won! 9501 won again!"
"The person earns the name, the tree earns the shadow! He has broken away from his number and earned the title 'Blood Slaughter Sword'—truly, a fierce name matched with fierce might!"
"The South District has birthed a true seed for the Hundred Victory King's title!"
"But why does Blood Slaughter Sword always sit and linger on the arena after each instant kill?
Why wait for the arena to drive him out?"
At the far corner of the audience area—
Hu Liena withdrew swiftly.
Her delicate, blood-streaked face showed a flash of undisguised fear.
"That demon's sword… has grown even more terrifying!"
"In just two short months,
it's as if he's tempered it in a pool of blood!"
"What a pity…"
"He's a madman — completely unapproachable!"
She bit her silver teeth together in frustration.
A few days ago, she'd dared to approach this swordmaster—
hoping to draw him in.
But before she could even speak,
he had met her with killing intent so fierce
that even revealing her identity as a member of the Spirit Hall did nothing to dissuade him.
Times had changed.
His sword was no longer merely dangerous—
it was monstrous.
Even the advantage she'd once had,
her familiarity with the terrain of the Slaughter City,
was gradually eroding as he adapted and grew stronger.
Now—
Hu Liena didn't even dare to cross paths with that black-clad youth again.
At the thought,
her pace quickened instinctively.
Just as she was about to dart into a narrow alley—
a figure stepped slowly from the shadows within.
A wide hood concealed the person's face.
"…Hm?"
Hu Liena's eyes turned cold.
Aside from that Blood Slaughter Sword,
she, with nearly twenty consecutive wins,
had no reason to cower before anyone within the Inner City.
Seeing someone block her path,
she didn't hesitate —
Her hand flicked down, pulling the dagger strapped to her leg.
Her body blurred like a ghost,
diving forward in a lethal strike.
A flash of silver light—
straight for the stranger's throat!
But the moment she closed in,
a crushing aura—vast and heavy as a mountain—
pressed down upon her.
Startled, Hu Liena instantly shifted her technique.
Her dagger feinted and swept aside as her slender waist twisted sharply.
Her leg whipped around with a shrill crack of air,
a devastating kick aimed directly at her opponent's head.
The wind tore through the alley,
lifting the edge of his hood—
Revealing a handsome yet shadowed face,
his dark-blue hair casually tied behind him.
The leg that could have split air struck—
But the man neither dodged nor flinched.
He simply raised one hand—
and in it, held a small black hammer
radiating a suffocating, mountain-like pressure.
Hu Liena's pupils contracted.
"The… Clear Sky Hammer?!"
"You're from the Clear Sky Clan?!"
She forcibly pulled back her strength—
toes tapping the ground as her body drifted backward like a willow leaf in the wind, retreating dozens of meters before steadying herself.
Tang San looked quite satisfied at the trace of wariness Hu Liena showed upon seeing his Clear Sky Hammer.
All his years of bitter training…
had not been in vain after all.
Hu Liena gave a cold snort, tightening her grip on the dagger in her hand, her voice tinged with mockery.
"Put away that meaningless arrogance."
"Do you still think the Clear Sky Hammer
is the strongest Tool-type Martial Soul in the world?"
"Seems you haven't been in the Slaughter City long.
Haven't you heard?"
"A single Qinglian Sword
once defeated the Clear Sky Hammer!"
Tang San's eyes froze for an instant, growing colder and darker by the second.
How could he not know?
That incident was the indelible shame he had sworn to erase in this lifetime.
Seeing his aura shift so abruptly, Hu Liena sneered and turned to leave.
Behind her came Tang San's calm voice:
"The Slaughter City is filled with hidden dragons and crouching tigers.
With Spirit Abilities sealed, variables abound."
"You fight so desperately in the Slaughter Arena—
surely it's because you want to pass the Hell Road and leave this place."
"If you and I join forces, even the Blood Slaughter Sword need not be feared."
"Join forces?"
Hu Liena's steps didn't slow.
Without turning her head, her cold, disdainful voice drifted back on the wind:
"The only one qualified to fight beside me—
is the Blood Slaughter Sword himself."
"Defeat him first…
then you can talk."
Her words fell—
and her figure vanished into the darkness of the alley like a ghost,
gone in the blink of an eye.
"…Heh."
Tang San let out a low, grim laugh as he stared into the darkness where she had disappeared.
Then his gaze shifted toward the exit of the Slaughter Arena—
where the victor was walking out at that very moment.
He lingered no longer. He turned and merged into another shadow.
"So the Slaughter City has birthed another sword prodigy…
Could such coincidence truly exist?"
"Blood Slaughter Sword, hm? Even if I defeat him, I'll surely be wounded."
"And in this place, a single wound is as good as a death sentence."
"Still… it's time I start my own winning streak."
"Still… it's time I start my own winning streak."
"The Hell Road—
I, Tang San, will pass it."
Meanwhile, Li Zhexian left the Slaughter Arena,
and returned straight to his quarters within the Slaughter City.
It was a rare haven of quiet—
a small courtyard with a pavilion and a pond, surprisingly elegant for such a place.
The cost: eight hundred cups of Bloody Mary.
Entering the courtyard,
he sat cross-legged beneath the shadow of the wall.
With a thought,
a wine gourd appeared before him on the ground.
Its surface emanated a faint, chilling aura.
Looking closely,
he saw that it was not empty—
Inside sloshed a thick, viscous liquid the color of blood,
murky as diluted ash paste.
More unsettling still,
countless faint, distorted shadows flickered within it—
and if one leaned in close enough,
one could almost hear layers upon layers of curses and weeping,
roiling and fermenting in torment.
This was no ordinary brew.
It was something Li Zhexian had crafted using the secret method recorded in the Brewing Records,
collecting undying obsessions, lingering echoes, and unfulfilled dreams
from places where countless souls had perished.
To that, he had added a rare essence known as Blood Amber.
Only then could he create this eerie celestial liquor—
Forgetful River Blood Resentment Fragrance.
Li Zhexian closed his eyes.
Faint threads of murky blood mist
rose from his skin,
drifting gently into the mouth of the gourd.
This—
this was why he always lingered in the Slaughter Arena after each battle.
When midnight finally came,
Li Zhexian opened his eyes once more.
Before him, the strange brew still looked faint and translucent.
A flicker of expectation crossed his gaze.
"When it turns fully opaque," he murmured,
"that will be the day the Immortal Brew is complete."