Anyone who came to the City of Slaughter would inevitably fall into depravity over time, struggling daily on the edge of death. Especially men. Under such immense pressure, everyone needed some way to release their tension. But Tang San did not. After every battle, he would retreat to a small room to cultivate. And once he left that room, the only place he went was the Slaughter Arena.
Countless seductive women had tried to throw themselves at the Asura King, but all they ever received in return was Tang San's icy killing intent.
As early as when Tang San had achieved twenty consecutive victories, Hu Liena had become certain that this man had come here for the same reason she had — to forge himself.
She had always believed that her brother was the most outstanding man she had ever seen. After the Continental Advanced Soul Master Academy Elite Tournament had ended, though she was reluctant to admit it, Tang San had also joined those ranks in her heart. And the man before her now was the third. In her opinion, the most outstanding of them all.
He couldn't be much older than her — handsome, resolute, immune to the temptations of depravity. Every one of these qualities drew her in deeply.
When a woman fell for a man, there were often many reasons. Hu Liena knew that she had fallen for this man. Even though, beyond the single sentence he had spoken to her on his first day here, they had never exchanged another word. Yet she was utterly certain that, aside from him, her heart had no room for anyone else.
Hu Liena let out a deep sigh. What a pity — he was a scion of the Clear Sky School. Having been born in Spirit Hall, how could she have failed to recognize the Clear Sky Hammer in Tang San's hands? She had even despondently wondered why all the most exceptional men always came from the Clear Sky School. Tang San was one, and this 9528 was another.
Just as Hu Liena's thoughts continued to race through her mind, Tang San in the arena moved.
Nine people, lunging from nine different directions — yet not a shred of agitation crossed his expression. His body flickered like a phantom, feet springing as though coiled with invisible springs. In a single instant, he had flashed before one of the trembling opponents.
The next moment, that man's own steel blade was embedded in his neck.
A turn, a kick, hands sweeping outward.
Countless gleaming points of light shot from Tang San's palms — steel needles, each one glinting as it flew. Piercing sounds split the air. Screams rose one after another.
Of all his opponents, only three survived Tang San's Hidden Weapons.
Not because they had managed to dodge them, but because each now held the body of a former companion in front of them — or more accurately, a corpse.
Two at the sixth rank, one at the seventh — two Soul Emperors and one Soul Saint.
Had they been able to use Soul Skills, those three would have posed a lethal threat to Tang San, who was only at the fifty-something level. But this was the City of Slaughter. Tempered by three legendary herbs and two Soul Bones, Tang San's physical strength far exceeded theirs by an immeasurable margin. Soul Power was important, but stripped of technique, it held no absolute advantage.
All three moved at once, each gripping a corpse in one hand and a weapon in the other. Channeled by their deep reserves of Soul Power, they charged at Tang San from three angles. Their minds had fully locked onto the Asura King with sixty-seven consecutive victories. They knew this was the decisive moment — and there would be only this one chance.
You want to block my Hidden Weapons? Fine. Then die by Hidden Weapons.
Tang San's body spun rapidly in a single revolution, so fast that no one could follow his movements. Nine willow-leaf-shaped curved throwing knives flew from his body.
Tang Sect Hidden Weapons, ranked eighth — Phoenix Beckons the Nine Chicks.
Nine throwing knives, sweeping through the air like nine phoenixes spreading their wings and crying out in flight.
Three seconds later, the battle was over. A single bloody gash marked Tang San's shoulder, left by the Soul Saint among the three. Unfortunately, before that blade could strike him, a throwing knife had already sunk into the Saint's back. Two more had simultaneously pierced the arteries on either side of his neck. So even that fully powered strike had only managed to leave a three-inch wound on Tang San's body.
With the battle finished, Tang San did not rush to leave. He walked slowly to where each of his fallen opponents lay and stamped down with his foot.
Skulls shattered beneath his heel like broken eggs. And the white light radiating from beneath his feet ensured that not a single drop of the resulting filth would stain his clothes.
His previous battles had taught him that as long as an opponent's skull had not been completely destroyed, he must never let his guard down. He had paid the price of three broken ribs to learn that lesson.
One by one, he retrieved his Hidden Weapons from the fallen enemies and stored them away in Twenty-Four Bridges Moonlit Night. This was the City of Slaughter — there was no way to resupply his Hidden Weapons here. He had to cherish every means of survival he possessed.