A massive hand swept forward, and a thick, dark-red liquid flew out from before him. In the dim darkness, it became apparent that an enormous pool of blood lay in front of him, filled with viscous, crimson liquid.
He opened his mouth and swallowed the blood into his belly. In the faint light, two fangs were faintly visible.
Time passed in waiting and cultivation. Sitting cross-legged in the small cabin where he lived, waves of bone-chilling coldness continuously coursed through Tang San's entire body. An immense killing aura perpetually swirled around him, affecting him in turn.
He had been here for nearly two years now. He was only a single match away from the title of champion of the Hell Killing Arena. Yet Tang San felt as though he was on the verge of collapse.
Over the course of two years, the number of fallen ones who had died by his hands far exceeded a thousand. Though every one of them had been evil and depraved, each time he killed someone, Tang San felt the killing aura on his body surge a little stronger. And that killing aura was ceaselessly influencing him in invisible ways.
The reason it had taken two full years to gradually approach the hundredth victory — apart from the dwindling pool of competitors — was a far bigger problem rooted in Tang San himself.
At first, the steadily rising killing aura hadn't mattered much. But once Tang San had killed over a hundred people in this place, he discovered that the aura had begun to erode his own mind and will. In the beginning, it was merely occasional flashes of bloodlust. As time stretched on, however, the murderous intent grew ever more pronounced. It felt as though every living thing he laid eyes on cried out to be cut down. Killing a person was as trivial as crushing an ant beneath one's foot.
And so, besides competing in the matches, the main focus of Tang San's cultivation had shifted from improving his strength to suppressing the increasingly rampant killing aura. Fortunately, his Mysterious Heaven Skill was the orthodox inner art of the Mysterious Heaven sect, and it possessed an inherent effect of warding off evil influences. He had also obtained the Spirit-Condensing Wisdom Skull, granting him extraordinary mental control. That was the only reason he had not been consumed by the urge to slaughter.
At the same time, Tang San had also come to use the killing in each match as an outlet.
Until recently, after completing his ninety-ninth match in the Hell Killing Arena, he had begun to sense that he could barely hold back the killing aura within him any longer. And he finally understood why Hu Liena — who had long since reached ninety-nine victories — had been so reluctant to fight her hundredth match.
In this City of Slaughter, describing the two of them as having bathed the world in blood was no exaggeration. And precisely because of their meteoric rise over these past two years, fewer and fewer fallen ones still dared to compete in the Hell Killing Arena. Most chose to survive on the reserve of matches they had accumulated in the past. Those who had exhausted their allotment simply survived by offering up blood. After all, compared to certain death, clinging desperately to life was the choice of the vast majority.
A sudden, pounding knock rang out from beyond the door. Tang San's suppressed killing aura surged upward in an instant. The small cabin was immediately gripped by an oppressive chill as a heavy, suffocating atmosphere spread outward under the pressure of his killing intent. The scent of blood seeped unconsciously from his body.
"Who is it?" Tang San asked, his voice deep.
"It's me." A pleasant voice sounded from outside the door. Though Tang San had heard it only a handful of times, he recognized its owner immediately — Hu Liena.
His brow furrowed slightly as Tang San wondered to himself: Why has she come?
With a casual wave of his hand, a gust of air surged out and drew back the door latch. "Come in." Not knowing Hu Liena's purpose, Tang San reined in the killing aura in his heart, but his vigilance had already been raised to its highest pitch.
The door swung open, and Hu Liena, dressed entirely in black, stepped inside. Her complexion was strikingly pale, and in her hand she held a glass of Bloody Mary from which she sipped slowly. It seemed this had become the habit of all the powerful figures within the City of Slaughter — apart from Tang San, nearly every fallen one with ten or more victories in the arena regularly drank blood that appeared seemingly from nowhere.
Tang San glanced at the glass in Hu Liena's hand, his brow creasing slightly. "What do you want?"
Hu Liena did not approach Tang San, instead remaining standing by the doorway. She understood well that in this world of slaughter, everyone's vigilance ran extremely high. She had no desire to cause a misunderstanding through some careless gesture.
"I want to form an alliance with you," Hu Liena said bluntly, stating her purpose directly.
"An alliance?" Tang San looked at her with a trace of confusion. "Surely you know the rules of the Hell Killing Arena. Only one victor can emerge from each match. If we face each other, how are we supposed to work together?"