“Bring it on, then,” Qin Xuan said expressionlessly.
His left hand formed a fist behind his back, while red light surged in his right hand.
There was no phoenix cry, just the crimson Changming Sword.
After nearly half a month of integration and cultivating the Ghost Valley Breathing Technique, Qin Xuan was now able to freely control the Vermillion Bird sealed within the Changming Sword.
The leading knight didn’t speak again.
He glanced sideways at the narrow tunnel around Qin Xuan, confirming his opponent had no room to dodge.
He slowly raised his knight’s lance, clamped his legs against the horse’s belly, and the warhorse beneath him suddenly accelerated.
“Remember the one who killed you: the Evil Knight, Che Guevara.”
Carrying a tragic and fierce aura, he charged straight at Qin Xuan.
An icy chill permeated the air as a stern, murderous intent rushed head-on.
Just as the tip of the lance was about to pierce Qin Xuan’s chest, Qin Xuan moved.
He lightly tapped his right foot on the ground and stepped his left foot directly onto the tip of the lance.
Although the tunnel was narrow—making it difficult for the warhorse to even turn around—because they were close to the gate, the ceiling was quite high, three to four meters tall.
And the further inside, the higher it went.
Qin Xuan flew right over Che Guevara’s head.
With a forward somersault, he swung his sword.
“How is this possible…” Che Guevara never expected Qin Xuan to dodge his lance this way.
He wanted to regret his charge, but it was already too late.
He instinctively raised his lance to block.
Zheng—
Crack—
The ringing of the sword and the sound of metal snapping echoed almost simultaneously.
The knight’s lance, along with Che Guevara’s helmet, was cleaved in two, revealing a terrified, bloodless, and hideous face.
A blood line quietly appeared from the top of Che Guevara’s head, extending all the way down to his chin.
Gripping the two broken halves of his lance, Che Guevara’s body twitched violently a few times before he tumbled off his horse.
The warhorse whinnied.
Qin Xuan retracted his Changming Sword martial soul and landed on his heels.
The massive doors were opened once again.
A young woman wearing a black veil over her face walked out.
“You killed him?” The young woman’s voice was very pleasant.
When she reached Qin Xuan, it was as if she had witnessed something incredibly horrifying; her eyes were filled with disbelief.
It wasn’t that she was terrified that this young man, who seemed about her age, had the strength to defeat an Evil Knight.
Nor was she terrified that Che Guevara had been killed.
She was terrified of the King of Slaughter’s wrath.
Even when beating a dog, one must look at its master.
However, Qin Xuan’s response completely changed her perception of this young man:
“He wanted to kill me, so I naturally could kill him.
But I also understand the rules of this place.
The small town is the small town, and the Slaughter Capital is the Slaughter Capital.
If I were to kill an enforcer inside the Slaughter Capital, I’m afraid I would have to face his wrath.”
The black-veiled woman gave Qin Xuan a somewhat surprised look and stepped forward to inspect the body.
After confirming that Che Guevara was only heavily injured and unconscious, she tossed a token to Qin Xuan.
“It seems you aren’t a brute.
On the contrary, you’re quite smart.”
“Does this mean I’ve passed the test?” Qin Xuan casually caught the token.
He glanced at the number on it, ‘9527’, and quickly lost interest.
He turned his gaze toward the inside of the gate.
He could see the entirety of the Slaughter Capital.
It was a black city.
The city walls were black, the buildings were black.
Aside from a purple crescent moon hanging five hundred meters above the city, everything was black, like an existence made entirely of the night.
“Of course.” The black-veiled woman stepped aside and made an inviting gesture.
“Welcome to the Slaughter Capital.”
Clutching the token, Qin Xuan strode confidently inside, not sparing the black-veiled woman a second glance.
Watching Qin Xuan’s receding figure, the black-veiled woman was about to follow when the terrified voice of a black-armored soldier rang out beside her.
“Lord Emissary of Slaughter, Lord Che Guevara seems like he’s not going to make it.
Should we send him to…”
“He’s already useless.
Just find a random place and bury him.
I will inform the Great King later.”
The black-veiled woman shot the soldier an impatient glare and quickly hurried after Qin Xuan.
Killing versus heavily injuring—although just a difference of a single thought, they were entirely different concepts.
Killing someone in the small town was nothing; after all, that was a test in itself.
Even killing the receptionist of the Slaughter Capital didn’t matter.
If they died, they died.
Tang San killed one in the original story.
But killing someone inside the Slaughter Capital was a huge deal.
It was equivalent to slapping the King of Slaughter in the face.
If this were allowed to continue, wouldn’t the Slaughter Capital turn upside down?
Who would respect the King of Slaughter then?
Che Guevara was only heavily injured.
It was just that the injury was quite severe—his skull was cracked.
In a dog-eat-dog place like the Slaughter Capital, no one was going to bend over backwards to heal a mere centurion.
Instead, Qin Xuan had piqued her interest.
This young man, not much older than herself, reminded her of the Clear Sky School disciple who had braved the Hell Road a few years ago.
He didn’t seem to be a fallen one, but rather someone who came here specifically to temper himself and obtain the Deathgod Domain.
One from the Clear Sky School, one from Spirit Hall.
This is going to be interesting…
A playful and expectant smile formed beneath the black-veiled woman’s mask as she quickened her pace.
A few steps later, she caught up with Qin Xuan, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him, tirelessly explaining the rules of the Slaughter Capital.
From the moment she was taken in as a maid by the King of Slaughter, she knew she would spend the rest of her life in this dark, sunless existence, day after day, decade after decade.
Compared to the perpetual dead silence, she preferred someone stirring up the winds and clouds in this sinful world.
She, the Emissary of Slaughter—the very same black-veiled woman who would welcome Tang San in the future—held expectations for Qin Xuan.
One year later.
The Hell Arena.
Bang!
Bang!
The heads of the last two opponents flew into the air, geysers of blood erupting.
Severed by Qin Xuan’s Changming Sword, their bodies slowly collapsed.
With his left hand, he casually tossed aside a fine-iron longsword—he’d lost count of how many he’d broken.
With his right hand, he raised the Changming Sword high above his head.
A murderous aura, nearly condensed into physical form, swirled around him.
Holding nothing back, Qin Xuan released his terrifying, bloody aura of slaughter, forming a massive blood-red vortex in the air.
Ninety-nine battles.
Ninety-nine consecutive victories.
This was the record Qin Xuan had currently achieved in the Hell Arena.
Because he possessed high-tier healing pills bought from the System Shop, injuries and toxins were virtually meaningless to him.
Furthermore, almost no one could even manage to hurt him.
And because the [Phoenix Fire] could isolate miasma, the murderous aura he had accumulated over the past year was largely unbothered by external interference.
He didn’t have to spend the majority of his time trying to calm his killing intent.
Therefore, whenever he could book a match in the Hell Arena, he participated.
Moreover, because he decapitated any living creature that attempted to come within ten meters of him after every Hell Arena match…
Over time, Qin Xuan had forged a terrifying reputation in the Hell Arena: the Black Dragon.
Rumor had it he wore a black robe, and no one had ever seen his true face.
He also frequently unleashed dragon-shaped sword aura in the Hell Arena, slaughtering all his enemies.
Hence his fearsome moniker.