Inside the dim, blood-scented hotel, dozens of outlaws and evil soul masters lounged around, laughing maniacally as they drank a glowing red liquid with disturbing relish.
Their eyes gleamed with madness, their bulky bodies twitching under the influence of the intoxicating drink—the infamous Bloody Mary.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors burst open.
A cold gust swept in.
A tall, strikingly handsome man with long blue, flowing hair stepped in calmly. His expression was unreadable, his steps slow and unhurried—as if none of the madness within the room could touch him—Tang Yin had arrived.
At once, he felt a swarm of hostile gazes lock onto him—predatory, annoyed, curious. But he didn't even blink. Without acknowledging any of them, he strode silently to an empty corner table and took his seat.
A masked waiter approached his table and asked in a dull tone, "Your order?"
Tang Yin replied coolly, "Give me a shot of Bloody Mary."
The masked waiter tilted his head, sneering as he scrutinized Tang Yin up and down. "Are you sure?" he asked mockingly.
For a moment, the air grew still.
Then Tang Yin's eyes glowed faintly, and his entire demeanor changed. His icy, telepathic will surged outward—crushing the waiter's weak mind like a vice.
The masked man began to shake in fear.
"S-Sorry! Right away, customer!" his arrogant smirk faded as he stammered, bowing repeatedly before scurrying off.
Less than a minute later, the waiter returned with a steaming cup of boiling Red Bloody Mary, the liquid pulsing like molten blood. His tone was far more respectful now. "Here it is, dear customer…"
Just then, a coarse voice cut through the low murmur of the tavern. Conversations halted, chairs creaked, and dozens of eyes turned toward Tang Yin, their cold gazes laced with evil intent and menace.
"Hah! What's this? Do they let anyone in here now?" A burly man stood up with a mocking sneer, his bloody grin revealing yellowed teeth. "You act all respectful to this pretty boy? What a joke! Let me show you respect."
His voice dripped with disdain.
Soon, laughter erupted. Dozens of lowlifes snickered and jeered, the sound echoing off the walls like the prelude to a storm, as the man swaggered toward Tang Yin's table.
He leaned in, face twisted in arrogance, and reached out to grab Tang Yin's shoulder.
But before his fingers could touch him, a hand shot out—firm and swift—catching his wrist.
Tang Yin gripped the man's wrist tightly, and in the next breath, released his Spirit Body.
Blue rune marks ignited across Tang yin's skin like divine tattoos. His physique swelled with raw power, every muscle tightened and pulsed like sculpted steel. He looked like a divine god trapped in mortal flesh.
Then came the punch—A crushing impact.
The burly man folded instantly, his body flying backward before slamming hard against the wall. His organs ruptured violently on impact, blood spraying from his mouth in a gruesome torrent. He collapsed like a discarded puppet,
The room went silent.
Every set of eyes turned to Tang Yin.
He raised his head slowly, and his glowing violet eyes swept across the room like blades. One glare from him was enough to send chills down everyone's spine.
Then—a loud gulp echoed. No one knew who made it. No one dared move.
Tang Yin stood.
He released his Blue Silver Emperor, and the Blue Silver Domain unfolded around him like a storm. Sharp, barbed vines shot out, impaling stunned soul masters before they could react.
Screams pierced the air as bodies were flung, twisted, and pinned to the walls like helpless insects. The hotel transformed into a bloody slaughterhouse within seconds.
Blood soaked the floor, and cries of agony and fear filled the air. Tang Yin stood unmoved in the center—unfazed, expressionless.
And then, calmly, he sat back down, lifted the untouched cup of Bloody Mary, and took a sip.
The thick, glowing liquid scorched down his throat and into his spirit. He felt it instantly—the chaotic, menacing aura weaving through his mind, testing his spiritual limits, gradually attempting to erode his thoughts.
But instead of fear… he smiled.
Just as he'd suspected—this place was the ideal crucible for his Spirit Brain. He wouldn't merely survive here—he would thrive.
The masked waiter stood frozen in stunned silence, watching as the man who had just turned the tavern into a slaughterhouse now drank with quiet composure.
Afterward, Tang Yin released his telepathy, locating the entrance to Slaughter City. He walked to the center of the floor and drove his fist down with explosive force.
The ground cracked open, revealing a spiraling tunnel that descended into the bloodstained depths below—Without hesitation, he jumped.
As he plunged through the eerie portal into the Slaughter King's domain, a foreign energy slammed against his spirit, constantly trying to corrode his thoughts.
Tang Yin's smile widened as he could feel his will was being sharpened with every second. This wasn't a descent into madness—it was the beginning of his rebirth. He released his Purple Demon Eye as the surrounding began changing from a barren land to a war fortress.
A blood-red moon hung over the war fortress, casting an eerie glow as crimson bats circled overhead. Tang yin approached the giant gate leading into Slaughter City, its path flanked by rows of armored soldiers.
"Stop!" a voice thundered. "I am Scott—the Druid Knight. You've broken rules. Defeating me is the only way forward for you."
An armored knight astride a demonic horse blocked Tang yin's path, his voice distorted and inhuman. Without warning, the demonic beast charged forward, the knight's sword leveled at Tang Yin's chest.
Tang Yin calmly released his Martial Soul—the Spirit Body. Blue runes flickered across his skin as his sculpted muscles swelled, raw power surging through every fiber.
He crouched low—then launched forward like a bowstring snapping free. In an instant, the knight and his mount were obliterated.
The shockwave sent nearby armored soldiers staggering. When the dust finally settled, shattered tiles and a gaping crater remained where the knight once stood.
Scott—the Druid Knight—groaned, staggering to his feet. His right shoulder hung broken, twitching with pain. With a grimace, he tossed a blood-red plaque toward Tang Yin.
"You've passed."
9444—his official entry number.
He glanced at the plaque and slipped it inside his storage ring. Without hesitation, he strode toward the massive gate veiled in bloody fog—from the blood of those who tried escaping.
From the mist, a beautiful woman emerged, clad in elegant gothic attire. She walked beside him, her heels clicking softly against the stone.
"I'm your guide," she said. "You're under my protection for the next 24 hours. I'll answer any questions you have. After that, you'll officially become a resident of Slaughter City."
She was undeniably beautiful—but Tang Yin didn't care. A woman who chose to live in a place like this wasn't someone he could—or should—save.
He wasn't naive. She served the Slaughter King. And that meant one day he'd have to kill her too. He removed the distracting thoughts from his mind and asked her.
"Take me to the Hell Slaughter Arena. I'm looking for someone," Tang Yin said coolly, his voice distant. He had no interest in lingering—only in finding Hu Liena as soon as possible.
"And who might that someone be? Perhaps I can help you find them," the woman offered with a pleasant smile. To Tang Yin, it felt less like kindness—and more like an interrogation.
"That's none of your business. Just take me to the arena," he replied, flashing a smile of his own—one that held no warmth.
The rest of the walk was silent.
When they reached the looming gates of the arena, she turned to Tang Yin one last time.
"Then I'll take my leave, dear guest. Once you register for a match, your protection ends."
With that, she vanished into the mist.
Tang Yin stepped toward the registration counter, placing his plaque before a woman seated behind. "I wish to register," he said.
She glanced at the number, then returned the plaque with respectful nod. "This way, please."
He followed her directions to the waiting area, where several others sat in silence—eyes cold, wary, and distant. He took a seat, waiting patiently. Minutes passed before his number was finally called alongside nine others.
Inside the arena…
Tang Yin stood in the center of a soon-to-be massacre, nine lives orbiting his like lambs unaware of the butcher. His blood boiled with excitement for the upcoming slaughter.
The arena itself groaned with dark energy. A sinister aura radiated from beneath the blood-soaked tiles, whispering madness into minds of those too weak to resist.
Tang Yin wasn't weak.
He restrained himself from the corrupting influence, but that didn't mean he would spare anyone. These weren't comrades. They were stepping stones—meant to hone his will.
A ruthless bloodbath awaited—and Tang yin was ready to paint the ground red.