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*****
A beam of purple-black light descended from the sky, striking Tang San's forehead as he continued to roar in grief, venting the hatred in his heart. A purple-black scythe-shaped mark appeared briefly on his forehead before vanishing a moment later.
The intense resentment surrounding Tang San seemed to be drawn by some unknown force, merging into his forehead. His cultivation began rising at a speed visible to the naked eye—rapidly and relentlessly.
As for Tang San's transformation, Qian Renhan—who had just arrived at Slaughter Town—was completely unaware. In fact, he didn't even know Tang San was still alive.
Even if he did, Qian Renhan would probably only sneer and say, "That rat's life is tougher than I thought. I'll crush him whenever I feel like it."
Slaughter Town hadn't changed much in scale since Qian Renhan's first visit. However, every building had been rebuilt. After all, the battle between Qian Xunji and the Slaughter King had reduced the entire town to rubble.
Still, compared to Qian Renhan's first visit, the town felt far more desolate. The reason? Spirit Hall had transitioned from offering free suppression of rogue soul masters to charging for it. Soul Masters, Grand Soul Masters, and even Soul Elders from wealthy families could still afford the fees—but what about Soul Emperors, Soul Sages, and Titled Douluos? The enforcer corps of Slaughter City consisted almost entirely of powerful Soul Sages or above.
Even though Spirit Hall had adjusted the cost to kneeling before the statue for a period instead of paying in gold soul coins—one hour of kneeling per gold coin—a Soul Emperor owed 600,000 hours, and a Soul Sage owed six million. How long would they have to kneel? And how many people could be sent all at once?
Yet Qian Renhan cared little about any of this. That prosperous life had been discarded by their own hands. Now, they could suffer the consequences of their decisions.
After Qian Renhan's brutal purge and reforms, Slaughter City's population had plummeted, and its recovery was excruciatingly slow. Once a bustling city of tens of thousands, it now housed only a few thousand. To sustain the blood-based development strategy, the Slaughter King was forced to reform the system: those fallen ones in the outer city who refused to fight in the Hell Slaughter Arena had their monthly ration of Bloody Mary reduced from two cups to just one.
Qian Renhan's arrival in the city went entirely unnoticed. Now at Level 99, he distorted space itself as he passed directly through the enforcer corps stationed outside and entered the city, heading straight for the Slaughter King's castle.
Inside Slaughter City, madness and indulgence reigned as always. The inner city remained a world of chaos and excess, filled with multicolored lights and a bustling atmosphere. Sounds filled the air—some of them joyful and ecstatic, others agonized, and still more filled with despair.
As Qian Renhan walked down the main street, any fallen ones who came near him were instantly crushed into pulp under the pressure of his descending soul power.
The crowd ahead parted, and a woman stepped forward—cold-faced, breathtakingly beautiful, with a full figure and twin short swords in hand.
In a place like Slaughter City, such a woman would typically be the object of countless fallen ones' lecherous desires. But wherever this woman walked, a shimmer of pink light flickered in her charming eyes, and a fluffy fox tail emerged behind her. Those who dared to lust after her instantly turned on each other in a frenzy of self-destruction.
Who else could she be but Hu Liena?
With her formidable charm ability, Hu Liena thrived in Slaughter City—a place where soul skills were forbidden, and only raw instinct ruled. Soul Emperors, Soul Sages, even Titled Douluos—all struggled to resist her allure and inevitably became her puppets, slaughtering one another.
Relying on this bewitching power, Hu Liena had already secured two consecutive victories in the Hell Slaughter Arena in just a few days.
She cast a disinterested glance at the fallen ones killing each other around her, ready to leave—when her gaze caught sight of a white-haired figure approaching. Her pupils shrank sharply, and she rubbed her eyes to confirm his identity.
Once she realized it was indeed Qian Renhan, she immediately dropped to one knee.
"Greetings, Your Holiness. Why have you come here, Your Holiness?"
Hearing the voice, Qian Renhan glanced at the kneeling woman. After recognizing her identity, he simply lifted his foot and walked past her without answering, showing no interest in asking when Hu Liena had arrived at Slaughter City, nor how well she had performed.
Hearing the footsteps fading into the distance, Hu Liena looked up at the white-haired figure in black walking away. Her pearly teeth bit down hard on her red lips, drawing blood, as a deep sense of humiliation surged within her.
She was Hu Liena—former disciple of the Pope, the goddess adored by tens of thousands at the Spirit Hall Academy, consistently ranked among the top three students since the Academy's founding. She had nearly become the Holy Maiden of Spirit Hall. Now, at just twenty-one years old, she had met Qian Renhan six times.
The first time, she was kicked flying with a single strike.
The second time, she was scorned and humiliated—deemed worse than a dog, nearly thrown to soul beasts as food.
The third time, in the Pope's Hall, she narrowly escaped death by a slap from him.
The fourth and fifth times were during the Soul Master Tournaments, when she met Qian Renhan with her team—only to be completely ignored.
Now, the sixth time—she had come to Slaughter City. She respectfully greeted him, only to be met once again with silence. He wouldn't even waste a single word on her. To him, even spending a second on her seemed like a waste of time.
Yet she, Hu Liena, possessed innate soul power of 9.7. At just twenty-one, she had already reached the level of Soul King. She dared to come train in Slaughter City—this hell on earth. In terms of talent and courage, she should already surpass ninety-nine percent of the continent's so-called geniuses. Even Ye Lingling couldn't compare to her in charm and strength of will.
And yet... she had never once entered Qian Renhan's eyes.
Why?
Why on earth was this happening?!
—
In the ancient castle of Slaughter City, the Slaughter King still lounged on his oversized throne. His legs were spread apart, and two attractive maids knelt before him, busy with some unspeakable task.
He reclined with satisfaction, eyes closed, while another beautiful maid stood by the throne, gently pouring Bloody Mary into his mouth.
"Slaughter King, you really are living the good life, aren't you?"
Suddenly, the tightly shut doors burst open, and a voice echoed throughout the small chamber from all directions.
"Who's there?!"
The Slaughter King lifted his head, clearly annoyed at being disturbed. He barely had time to gesture for the maids to stop, when a pair of blood-red eyes lit up before him.
"Ahhhh—!"
The Slaughter King let out a shriek, clutching his head in agony as if something had pierced his mind. The blood-red hue faded from his eyes, and his crimson hair darkened to pitch black. His monstrous, half-human form rapidly returned to that of a normal man. His blood-colored skull armor transformed into an old, worn robe belonging to the once-great Clear Sky Sect.
"Where am I...? What just happened...?"
With a heavy breath, the Slaughter King's once-sharp voice deepened into a weathered, aged tone.
"My King, are you alright?"
The maid by the throne had been terrified by his transformation at first, but soon regained her composure. After all, the Slaughter King had not only turned back into a human—but had also become far more handsome in the process.
Tang Chen rubbed his temples. He had just experienced a powerful spiritual and demonic shock to his mind, which shattered the illusion he had been trapped in and finally restored his consciousness. If not for that, he might have remained in that endless dream forever.
"My King?"
Tang Chen turned his head, puzzled, looking at the three maids casting flirtatious glances at him. Then he looked down at his disheveled clothes... and at his soaked, glistening self—his little Chen Chen fully exposed.
Memories rushed back like a flood—the countless people the Blood-Red Nine-Headed Bat King had killed using his body, the indulgence with endless maids, bathing in wine and flesh, living a life of debauchery for who knows how many years, how many countless times...
Blood-red tears streamed from Tang Chen's eyes.
"So many years... Decades, all like a dream... I've committed such monstrous sins... Bo Saixi, I've failed you... I've truly failed you..."
(End of Chapter)