The moment Wang Yan stepped onto the Hell Road, the world changed.
The killing intent here was no longer something that could be compared to the Slaughter City above. It surged from every direction, hundreds of times denser, pressing down upon his mind and body like an endless tide of accumulated death. Every breath carried the weight of countless lives, and every step felt as though he were walking through condensed slaughter itself.
Wang Yan stopped. Instead of forcing his way forward, he released his own killing intent. The aura refined through one hundred victories erupted outward, colliding violently with the pressure of the Hell Road. For nearly an hour, he remained motionless, stabilizing the clash through sheer will. When the balance was finally achieved, the dragon-shaped killing intent surrounding him evolved—splitting into two powerful killing dragons, their presence far more solid and oppressive than before. Along with this transformation came a surge of bloodlust, sharp and dangerous, yet firmly restrained.
Only then did he advance.
Hours later, a terrifying presence descended upon him—the Dark Golden Three-Headed Bat. The battle erupted without warning. Sword light tore through the oppressive darkness, wounding the beast heavily and forcing it to retreat. Wang Yan did not pursue and continued onward without hesitation.
Not long after, another threat emerged—the Ten-Headed Fierce Yang Serpent. Its assault shook the Hell Road itself. Wang Yan met it head-on, his killing intent surging as his sword drove the creature back. Badly wounded, the serpent fled, unwilling to continue the fight.
After many more hours of relentless advance, Wang Yan finally reached the end of the Hell Road.
Before him lay an opening suspended across a vast void, with no visible path leading to it. Activating the flight ability of his left leg soul bone, he crossed the gap steadily and stepped out of the Hell Road.
The suffocating killing intent vanished instantly.
Fresh air rushed in as dense forest greenery replaced the crimson darkness behind him. The sudden contrast disrupted his control, and without hesitation, Wang Yan sat down to meditate. Several hours passed before his killing intent was fully sealed, leaving no trace leaking outward.
When he finally stood, clarity returned.
Wang Yan raised his hand and summoned his martial soul.
The sword materialized in his grasp, and the moment it appeared, he sensed the change. The aura surrounding it was colder and far more oppressive than before. Faint crimson patterns had formed along the sword, twisting into devilish markings, each line saturated with condensed killing intent.
The weapon bore the clear imprint of slaughter, shaped by two years of relentless combat.
His gaze sharpened slightly.
With a single thought, Wang Yan released his aura.
The air around him grew heavy at once. An invisible pressure spread outward, infused with pure death intent. The surrounding forest fell into an unnatural silence, as if all life had been suppressed. At that moment, Wang Yan clearly realized this was no ordinary aura.
It was a domain.
Understanding dawned in his eyes.
This was the Death God Domain, the power he had obtained after crossing the Hell Road—born from killing intent and bloodshed.
Wang Yan slowly withdrew the domain and dismissed his sword, his expression calm.
Only then did he truly understand what those two years in Slaughter City had given him.
He look towards the sky and realised it had been two full years since he entered Slaughter City.
When he first stepped into that blood-soaked place, his cultivation had been at Level 63. Under normal circumstances, two years of continuous combat would have pushed him to Level 67, but the abnormally low soul energy within Slaughter City suppressed his growth. As a result, his cultivation now stood at Level 66 However, the relentless battles and extreme pressure he endured had tempered him to an extraordinary degree, making his combat ability far surpass what his level alone could represent.
Moving forward through the thick forest, Wang Yan maintained a steady pace. The dense greenery gradually thinned, and after about an hour, signs of civilization finally appeared ahead. A small town came into view, quiet and unremarkable, standing at the forest's edge.
Wang Yan entered the town and stopped a passerby, asking where this place was and whether there was a big city nearby. The man told him the town's name plainly. After a brief pause, he added that if Wang Yan was asking about a major city, then the empire's capital, Tian Dou City, lay about one hundred and fifty kilometers to the north.
Wang Yan moved in the direction indicated, heading north without hesitation, his figure soon disappearing along the road leading toward Tian Dou City.
After hours of continuous travel, Wang Yan finally arrived at Tiandou City.
.....
The moment Wang Yan stepped into Tiandou City, the atmosphere changed.
The broad square near the city entrance was crowded, yet as he moved forward, people unconsciously gave way. His aura was restrained, but the calm composure around him carried a quiet pressure. At twenty-seven, Wang Yan's appearance had reached a peak—sharp features, steady eyes, and a mature elegance that made him stand out without effort.
Ahead, an arrogantly dressed young noble was berating a group of civilians. It was nothing excessive, merely the usual display of authority. Wang Yan glanced once and walked past.
That was enough.
The young master's eyes narrowed the instant he noticed him. The jealousy came fast and irrational. Wang Yan's indifference, his looks, his complete lack of regard—it all felt like an insult.
"Stop."
The young master's voice rang out sharply.
"You dare walk past without showing respect? Do you know who I am?"
Wang Yan didn't answer.
The silence enraged him further.
"Turn around," the young master sneered. "Kneel. Apologize. I might consider sparing you."
Wang Yan continued walking.
The insults escalated. The young master stepped forward, voice raised, deliberately provoking him again and again—each word sharper, more humiliating, pushing deliberately past restraint.
And finally, it crossed the limit.
Wang Yan stopped.
The moment his emotions slipped, restraint shattered. Without him realizing it, killing intent erupted from his body, dense and oppressive. It wasn't deliberate—it was instinctive, born from anger.
Step by step, he walked toward the young master.
Each step felt like a weight pressing down on the square. Faces turned pale. Breathing became difficult. The young master's expression changed from arrogance to unease.
The two guards reacted instantly.
"Protect the young master!"
They rushed forward—but the instant they entered the field of killing intent, they were violently thrown back, slammed into the ground by sheer pressure alone. No techniques were used. No attacks were made. Only killing intent.
Wang Yan reached the young master and lifted him by the neck with one hand.
The killing intent surged again, spreading outward like a chilling tide. The surrounding area felt as though death itself had descended. The young master's eyes filled with terror as his feet left the ground.
Just as Wang Yan's fingers tightened—
A carriage rolled into the square.
Before it fully stopped, music flowed out from within.
Clear, layered, and profound—the sound of a konghou rang out, its melodious tones cutting through the suffocating killing intent. The music did not clash with the pressure; instead, it gently guided it, calming the violent surge.
Wang Yan's breathing slowed.
The killing intent weakened, then faded. His eyes cleared as reason returned. Realizing himself, he loosened his grip and released the young master.
The young master collapsed to the ground, coughing violently. Without a single word, he scrambled up and fled with his guards, disappearing into the crowd.
End of chapter.