Atop the dome of the Slaughter Arena, within a vast and shadowy chamber.
A particularly large chair sat at the center, inlaid with blue and purple crystals arranged in the shape of a drum tower.
Other than this massive chair, everything else in the room was colored in dark red.
"The Undying Demon Dragon has won again." A cold, feminine voice echoed through the darkness.
"I know," replied a tall figure seated upon the massive chair.
His appearance was obscured by the shadows, but his thin and lanky frame was vaguely discernible.
"Great King, should we begin to approach him? It's been a long time since Slaughter City welcomed a truly powerful being."
"You believe he is such a being?" the tall man seated on the chair asked.
"The Undying Demon Dragon doesn't have particularly strong soul power, but his physical body is terrifyingly powerful, and his regeneration is utterly abnormal—he's practically born for Slaughter City. Even a Title Douluo without soul skills couldn't kill him in here. I can confirm, he has at least two soul bones."
The King of Slaughter was silent for a moment before speaking slowly: "Then in your opinion, can he complete one hundred victories and challenge the Hell Road?"
"He will complete a hundred victories eventually. But challenging the Hell Road... that might be difficult."
The King of Slaughter replied coldly, "Then there's no need to approach him."
"Why not? Great King, don't you wish for Slaughter City to grow stronger?"
"When he completes a hundred victories, we'll see if he's willing to join Slaughter City. If not, let him take a walk down the Hell Road."
The icy-voiced woman gasped. "Great King of Slaughter, isn't it inscribed on the Wall of Prophecy in our city? 'When the God of Slaughter descends, Hell shall suffer.' In the past twenty years, the first two Gods of Slaughter caused immense turmoil for Slaughter City..."
The King of Slaughter said gravely, "One more won't make a difference. If he wants to be the third God of Slaughter, let him die on the Hell Road."
With that, he waved a massive hand, and a stream of thick, dark-red liquid flew forward.
In the shadows, it became clear that in front of him was a massive blood pool, filled with sticky, fresh blood.
The King of Slaughter opened his mouth and drank deeply. In the dim light, two sharp fangs could be seen protruding faintly.
Time passed in cycles of waiting and killing.
Nearly another year had gone by.
Yu Tianming was now only one battle away from claiming the title of Champion of the Hell Slaughter Arena.
He sat cross-legged in the waiting room of the arena, his entire body emanating waves of icy killing intent.
He had once thought that as more participants used up their allotted battles, more people would dare to try their luck in the Hell Slaughter Arena. But with him constantly stationed there, the pressure he exerted was too overwhelming. Many of the more rebellious participants instead fled to the outer city to donate blood.
Yu Tianming had considered, like Tang San once did, leaving the Hell Slaughter Arena to live in a small house within the inner city.
But he knew very well that without his martial spirit, his physical strength would be significantly diminished.
The waiting room of the arena, though cramped, was safe and undisturbed.
Staying in the inner city, however, made it easy for others to ambush him—far more dangerous.
For the past two years, Yu Tianming had done nothing but kill and wait to kill. The killing intent he had condensed was far more refined than Tang San's.
Anyone who saw Yu Tianming for the first time would be deceived by the aura—his eyes appeared blood-red at first glance. Only after a second look would they realize his pupils were still a deep, clear black.
In these two years, how many fallen ones had perished at his hands? Over a thousand, at the very least.
Even though those people were already evil and depraved, each time he killed one, he felt his own killing aura grow stronger, subtly affecting him.
At first, the increase didn't feel like much. But as the killing piled up, Yu Tianming noticed a shift—it began to affect his mental state.
In the beginning, he would occasionally feel bloodthirsty urges. But as time went on, that feeling became more frequent, and the aura of slaughter became increasingly pronounced.
Now, whenever he saw a living creature, his first instinct was to kill.
Unlike Tang San, he had no Daoist technique like Xuan Tian Gong to restrain himself, nor a spirit-concentrating skull bone to suppress it. He wasn't like Hu Liena either, who drank human blood to calm her heart.
It was only because the nervous system of his Ghidorah martial spirit was so uniquely structured and difficult to influence that he could still barely hold back the urge to kill.
But Yu Tianming knew—something was wrong with his mind.
Three days later, the Hell Slaughter Arena.
The final opponent's head exploded under Yu Tianming's dragon claw.
Over these nearly two years, he had done nothing but fight or wait to fight.
Now, he had finally completed his hundredth battle.
Even someone as composed as he couldn't help but raise both hands in triumph, unleashing all the terrifying blood-soaked killing intent in his body. The nearly tangible slaughter aura surged into the air, forming a massive vortex above him.
For this milestone—the hundredth match—more fallen ones had gathered in the stands than at any point in the past two years.
But under the pressure of the enormous killing aura emanating from Yu Tianming, not one dared to speak.
Everyone believed that the Undying Demon Dragon was the most terrifying existence in the arena. No one had ever lasted more than half a minute against him.
No matter who faced him, they were always killed swiftly and cleanly.
Yu Tianming had become the opponent that no one in Slaughter City wished to encounter.
Their silence was merely out of fear. If not for his presence, they would have been cheering at the departure of this killing god.
"Congratulations, young God of Slaughter."
A sharp, low voice suddenly echoed from all directions. At that moment, the killing aura Yu Tianming had released was forcibly reversed and pressed back into his body. His face instantly turned pale.
The atmosphere in the arena soared to its peak.
Because, from above, a blood-red figure descended from the sky.
"King of Slaughter! King of Slaughter! King of Slaughter!" The frenzied cries tore at the throats of the fallen ones, yet not one of them stopped chanting.
Yu Tianming grew alert, his gaze fixed on the crimson figure in midair.
It was a tall man, completely wrapped in a massive blood-red cloak.
His face was pale, his eyes entirely crimson. His body descended slowly from above, seemingly unaffected by gravity.
Yu Tianming had seen this same phenomenon before—on many Title Douluo.
He could be certain that the one descending now was none other than the Ultimate Douluo, Tang Chen.
(End of Chapter)
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