A mirthless melody, concealing a heart’s sorrow, drifted to Wang Lin’s ears. His steps faltered for a breath, but he did not turn, pressing ever onward.

Midnight draped its velvet cloak upon the land. The moon, a silver coin in the inky sky, scattered its ethereal light upon the monstrous towers of Tianyao City, veiling them in gossamer.

From the depths of the Mo Manor, two figures, swift as eagles on the hunt, shot forth. In a blink, they dissolved into wisps of shadow, their destination: the dread Hong Prison. With impossible speed, they leaped over the spires and winding alleys of Hong City, arriving at the prison’s gates in but a few heartbeats.

The Hong Prison loomed, a festering wound upon the world. Its aura of despair and malice rose in tangible waves, a spectral flame licking at the midnight sky.

Before the fortress of misery, the figures materialized, solidifying into Mo Lihai and Wang Lin.

As they appeared, a section of the massive, iron-bound gate creaked open, revealing a gaunt, corpulent man with eyes like chips of obsidian. He emerged from the shadowed aperture, his gaze sweeping over them. Wordlessly, he beckoned, then retreated back into the darkness.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. The man’s power, he sensed, mirrored that of Mo Lihai – a mastery akin to the Nascent Soul Late Stage Completion amongst cultivators.

Mo Lihai strode forward, disappearing into the narrow opening. Wang Lin followed, his pace steady, unhurried.

Within the gate, the heavy man scrutinized Wang Lin, his voice a rasping whisper. “Is this the one you spoke of, Mo?”

Mo Lihai nodded. “He is. I place my trust in you, Xu.”

Xu merely inclined his head. “Go then. I shall see him inside.”

Mo Lihai turned to Wang Lin, his voice soft. “Farewell, brother Wang. May your cultivation flourish!” With a flicker, he vanished.

“What is your name?” Xu asked, his gaze fixed upon Wang Lin.

“Wang Lin,” came the reply, a simple statement, devoid of inflection.

Xu said nothing, turning and plunging into the oppressive depths of Hong Prison. Wang Lin, head held high, followed without hesitation. With each step, the suffocating miasma of death and despair thickened, clinging to him like a shroud.

Xu, seemingly invigorated by the foul atmosphere, stole glances at Wang Lin. He noted with surprise that the newcomer’s face remained impassive. Then, he reasoned that one whom Mo Lihai would send at such a cost must possess some hidden strength.

The Hong Prison was a two-tiered horror. What lay above ground was merely a facade; the true horror resided beneath.

Xu, efficient in his grim task, led Wang Lin directly into the prison’s underbelly. They descended a spiraling staircase, the air growing colder with each step.

Dim, spectral flames flickered on the damp stone walls, casting dancing shadows that amplified the sense of dread.

At first, the descent was eerily silent. But as they plunged deeper, a cacophony of screams and howls began to rise from the abyss below. These were not the sounds of pain alone, but of rage and a bottomless, soul-crushing hatred. The intensity of this unholy aura was tenfold that of the surface.

Xu deliberately slowed his pace, observing Wang Lin closely. He knew that the atmosphere within Hong Prison could almost solidify into a tangible entity. Even powerful demon generals, of comparable strength to himself, would find it unbearable, unless, like himself, they had spent centuries absorbing its essence.

He was startled by what he saw. Wang Lin’s composure remained unbroken. Indeed, it was as if he were slowly becoming one with the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Xu, his initial dismissiveness replaced with a wary respect, ceased his probing. He realized that anyone who chose to enter this place to cultivate must possess hidden depths. To test him further would be both foolish and disrespectful.

The staircase seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, they reached the bottom, a vast, subterranean chamber, dimly lit and carved into a honeycomb of individual cells.

A tidal wave of roars and curses washed over them, a deafening symphony of madness. To an ordinary mortal, the sheer volume would have shattered eardrums and driven them mad.

Xu, accustomed to the bedlam, merely raised his voice, his words slicing through the noise like a shard of ice. “Silence!”

Instantly, the cacophony subsided. A palpable sense of suppressed fury filled the chamber.

At the far end stood a single, black edifice. Xu halted before it, turning to Wang Lin with a cruel smile that only deepened the darkness in his eyes.

“Brother Wang Lin,” he rasped, “this is the section I oversee. Each and every one of these souls has been hand-picked, destined for execution in one moon’s time. You are free to cultivate as you see fit. It matters not if you slay them all.”

Wang Lin’s spirit sense swept through the chamber, detecting an intricate web of protective wards.

“Thank you,” he said, offering a formal bow.

Xu chuckled, a dry, grating sound. “Do not thank me. Thank Mo Lihai. He has given me the first three layers of the Ten Collapse Fist technique, a high price for your entrance.” He fixed Wang Lin with a knowing stare, then turned and disappeared into the black house.

‘The first three layers of the Ten Collapse Fist. Mo Lihai has indeed sacrificed much on my behalf.’ Wang Lin considered this for a moment, then stepped forward, into the heart of the vast prison complex.

The prison was laid out in a “well” pattern, rows of cells arranged with grim precision. As Wang Lin crossed the threshold, the suppressed fury erupted once more. The roars and screams intensified, a sonic onslaught that threatened to crush him.

Wang Lin remained unmoved. He walked down the corridors, past rows of cells, where a multitude of clawing hands reached through the iron bars, desperate to seize him. A chorus of depraved laughter followed his every step.

“Fresh meat! Come closer, let the old wolf have a taste. It has been decades since I have seen skin so tender.”

“You look just like the whore I used to kill!”

“Outsider! I always enjoyed killing the likes of you!”

Behind the bars, crimson eyes burned with malice, greed, and a thousand other sins.
Wang Lin regarded the rabid figures with a cold gaze. Surely, years ago, they had not been so mad. The long imprisonment, the insidious touch of this place’s malignant aura, had eroded their minds. Those without an iron will were doomed to succumb.

Yet, not all the inmates roared. Some remained, hunched and silent within their cages, lost in grim contemplation.

“New meat! Get over here!” A voice rasped. From a cell near Wang Lin, a figure cloaked in shadow beckoned, his hands snaking through the iron bars. Seeing Wang Lin’s attention, he spat a globule of thick, vile phlegm that arced toward him.

Wang Lin stepped back, avoiding the fetid projectile.

The shadowy figure cackled, his eyes gleaming with cruel mockery.

Wang Lin’s expression remained unchanged. He glanced at the man, a subtle smile curving his lips, halting his stride.

The prisoner’s laughter died in his throat as he met Wang Lin’s smile. He felt a tremor of primal fear, a sense of dread he could not explain. The mockery in his eyes faltered, replaced by a savage glint.

Wang Lin extended his right hand, placing it within the prisoner’s reach. “Come,” he said, his voice level.

The man hesitated, instinctively retreating, his face contorted in a dark frown.

“Come!” Wang Lin repeated, the word resonating with unspoken power.

The cacophony of shouts and howls intensified, fueled by the spectacle. Driven by the frenzy around him, the shadowed man gritted his teeth. His right hand, claws extended, shot through the bars toward Wang Lin’s outstretched hand.

In that instant, Wang Lin’s fingers formed a sword, a blur of motion. He struck the man’s palm, and with the touch, a sliver of pure, unadulterated killing intent surged from Wang Lin’s fingertip, burrowing into the prisoner’s flesh.

The man recoiled, his body convulsing. Black blood trickled from his orifices as his face twisted in an agonizing rictus.

The surrounding din reached a fever pitch.

Then, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the prisoner, slicing through the clamor like a honed blade, silencing all other sound.

An unnatural hush fell upon the prison.

The scream continued, a sound steeped in abject terror. Wang Lin watched impassively as the man crumpled to the floor, his body writhing. His emaciated form rapidly withered, transforming into a desiccated husk.

The corpse gaped, its eyes vacant and gray. A wisp of ashen energy escaped its lips and returned to Wang Lin’s fingertips, now denser, more potent than before.

“Still only a thread…” Wang Lin murmured, a frown etching his brow.

He had observed closely. The killing intent, once unleashed, devoured the man’s life force, consuming his soul, blood, flesh, every essence of his being.

“To kill with slaughter is but to feed the beast,” he mused. “To truly separate and manifest it…something is lacking. A deeper understanding.” He regarded the corpse. The man, weak in life, had been bound by some restraint, unable to unleash his full potential. And he was not alone. Nearly all the prisoners here bore similar shackles.

Silence reigned in the wake of the man’s demise, but the calm was fleeting. Moments later, the chaos erupted anew, more violent than before.

Wang Lin moved to the next cell. The inmate within met his gaze with a bloodthirsty grin, licking his lips. He backed away, speaking with a strange proposition “Boy, you are cultivating something, aren’t you? If you kill the person in the opposite cell for me, I will cooperate with you fully. What do you say?”

The person in the opposite cell heard this, a large man, his eyes bulging, roared, “I have not liked you in a long time! Boy, you kill him, and I will cooperate with you fully! Anyway, I’ve been locked up in this damn place for long enough, it’s best for me to die sooner and reincarnate!”

Wang Lin did not respond. He merely raised his right hand, stabbing left and right in the air, and the two people both revealed a little red in the center of their brows, which slowly bloomed, and the two fell almost at the same time, although their eyes were full of relief.

From the moment he stepped into this place, Wang Lin clearly perceived that there was a unique aura of death hidden in the aura of resentment here! This aura of death, Wang Lin thought it was because there were too many dead people, but after truly walking into the cage, he suddenly realized that this aura of death came from the imprisoned ones!

Seeking death wholeheartedly! But many people lacked the courage to take their own lives!

As the two men fell, Wang Lin’s eyes focused, carefully examining them. He did not use the aura of slaughter on these two, and their bodies were well-preserved, with no signs of decay.

However, there was a strange aura on their bodies that disappeared.

Wang Lin’s eyes flickered, he vaguely felt like he had grasped something, but after careful thought, he was still somewhat confused.

“Slaughter Immortal Art, refining vitality, transforming into imprints. I have been practicing this technique until now, thinking about it many times… I always feel like it is similar but not similar. Sometimes it seems clear, sometimes it feels vague.” Wang Lin grabbed the burly man’s body, bringing it close to the iron railing. Wang Lin squatted down and stabbed his right finger into the blood hole in the man’s brow, examining it carefully.

His brows furrowed more and more tightly. After a long time, Wang Lin sighed softly, stood up, and walked towards the next cell. With Wang Lin’s steps, one prisoner after another died.

Each time he killed someone, Wang Lin would examine the corpse for a long time, thinking and observing carefully.

Five days later, more than half of the thousands of people in the prison had died!

A thick aura of death permeated here, lingering for a long time.

Wang Lin observed nearly a thousand corpses, and a trace of enlightenment gradually arose in his heart, but this enlightenment was as illusory as smoke, always separated from him by a veil, unable to see clearly or touch.

“Where is the difference?” Wang Lin pondered.

“Because you haven’t killed enough! Because your heart of slaughter is not enough!” The Xu-named man, walked out of his dark room, looked at Wang Lin with a trace of different gaze.

Wang Lin raised his head, looked at the Xu-named man, without saying anything.
“Though I know not the exact nature of your cultivation, mortal,” the man named Xu said calmly, his voice echoing in the iron halls, “it concerns itself with slaughter, does it not? Hence your presence in this place. Yet, you have chosen poorly. The carnage here breeds not the killing intent you require. Thus, there is no true killing aura. These five days, you have slain many, yet devoted yourself more to study. All the research in the world pales beside total immersion in slaughter. You must revel in it, taste the pleasure, embrace the killing heart!”

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, a spark of understanding ignited within them.

“I cultivate the Demonic Path of Slaughter!” Xu declared, his gaze piercing. “Within Hong Lao, stand ten Jailwardens. Of them, only I hone my heart through killing, transforming that heart into a demon. Witness, mortal, my killing heart!”

As the words left his lips, Xu’s eyes turned icy, devoid of warmth. No visible aura of death emanated from him, yet Wang Lin felt a profound shift. The man before him had changed utterly. Though no killing aura was apparent, the hairs on Wang Lin’s neck stood on end. His nascent soul stirred within, agitated by an overwhelming sense of danger.

An indefinable essence now clung to Xu, a subtle but terrifying presence.

“A sword drawn has a chilling edge and a killing intent, yet it lacks the potential of the blade still sheathed,” Xu explained, his voice regaining its even keel. “The true killing heart is that unsheathed sword! If you seek to master slaughter, I can lead you to a place where true carnage dwells.”

“The price?” Wang Lin asked, his gaze unwavering.

A flicker of approval crossed Xu’s face. “Slay the Demon General Shi Jian for me. Seek not the reason. With my killing heart, I could face him in open battle and achieve parity. To assassinate him, however, I possess the surest of plans. Alas, I am bound within Hong Lao and he will never set foot within these walls. Therefore, you will slay him and I shall guide your cultivation in slaughter! But I have a condition: you must slay him with skills honed in the art of slaughter, so that he dies by the hand of killing itself!” A flash of bitter hatred ignited in Xu’s eyes.

“If I truly master the arts of slaughter, your condition, I will consider,” Wang Lin responded, leaving his promise veiled.

“Come with me then!” Xu chuckled, a chilling sound that echoed through the prison halls. He turned and strode away.

“The Ten Hells of Hong Lao are but a facade. The true purpose of the four great prisons of Tian Yao City is to provide the Demon Emperor with an endless source of killing aura, to feed his imperial blade! The deepest levels of these prisons are where you truly need to be, for it is there that you will grasp the killing heart.”

Wang Lin followed Xu, leaving the cell behind and descending a winding staircase that seemed to have no end. They passed countless cells, but Xu did not linger, moving ever downward.

At last, a thick, cloying scent of blood filled the air, mingled with a killing aura a thousand times stronger than above.

The passage ahead was no longer black, but suffused with a bloody light.

“My bringing you here defies the law of this place,” Xu said, his voice even, “Speak of this to no one, not even Mo Li Hai. This place was forged by the Emperor himself, and the accumulated slaughter within can corrupt the mind. Enter without resistance, focus your spirit, and embrace the formation of the killing heart!”

Wang Lin pondered for a moment, then glanced at Xu. He could feel the palpable aura of death emanating from below, a place that would undoubtedly benefit his mastery of slaughter.

Even before he drew near, the tendrils of killing aura writhing between his fingers quickened, their rotation accelerating. The gray haze trembled, not with fear, but with a nascent bloodlust!

Sensing this change, Wang Lin stepped forward, entering the blood-red passage. He descended the staircase, step by step. Wang Lin was a man of careful calculation; he took Xu’s words with a grain of salt. The most compelling reason for his descent was the tremor in his own killing aura.

“If this place can stir such a change in my killing aura, then perhaps I can truly succeed in mastering the Immortal Killing Arts!” Wang Lin thought, his gaze fixed ahead.

“In this world, one must make sacrifices. To gain, one must be prepared to lose. This, I must do!” After a while, the passage began to glow even more red.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a bloody world. In this world, there was a sea of blood and the smell of blood pervaded the air.

Looking around, he could not see the edge of the bloody sea, it was very big, like a separate world, not the bottom of Tian Yao City.

In this world, on the ground, most of the area was covered with a pool of blood, and in each pool of blood, there were different numbers of people, each of them were half immersed in the blood pool, with eyes closed, cross-legged, and sitting motionless.

On their bodies, the wound squirmed and looked very terrible.

When Wang Lin entered here, the five streams of killing aura twining around his fingertips immediately flew out, surrounding him, and made a sound like a roar of excitement.

Wang Lin took a deep breath, the bloody air entered his mouth, and immediately turned into killing thoughts and merged into his whole body. Wang Lin’s eyes flashed, and he stepped forward, came directly to a blood pool, hesitated a little, he stepped into it, and sat down cross-legged.

At the moment when half of his body entered the blood pool, a strong killing breath immediately poured in from the blood pool along with his body, spreading throughout his whole body.

With each breath, the killing intent in Wang Lin’s body became stronger, and with each breath, more and more killing intent from the blood pool merged into his body.

Gradually, Wang Lin’s eyes turned red, and the five streams of killing aura around his body made bursts of never-before-heard roars.

Wang Lin’s heart was filled with stronger and stronger killing intent. At first, he still used his immortal power to resist, but after a little thought, he simply released his immortal power and only wrapped his mind, allowing the killing intent to flow throughout his body.
Time bled away, an uncounted age passing in the crimson gloom. Then, with a sudden, unified awakening, every soul submerged within the blood pools snapped open their eyes. A palpable aura of unimaginable bloodlust erupted, a psychic shockwave that shuddered through the entire scarlet world.

The unleashed fury coalesced, wrapping the land in a suffocating blanket of malice. Figures clawed their way from the gore-soaked depths, their throats unleashing bestial roars and bloodcurdling battle cries. Every single one of them was consumed, eyes blazing with a uniform crimson fire.

“Kill!”

“Kill!!”

“Kill!!!”

The shouts reverberated, echoing across the desolate landscape. Each emerging warrior turned upon their nearest neighbor, their actions fueled by an insatiable hunger for destruction. Wang Lin, his senses sharpened by the primal energy, registered the horrific truth. This purgatory contained close to a thousand souls, all driven mad by the insatiable thirst for blood.

The cacophony of battle swelled, a vortex of steel and sorcery, the air thick with the stench of carnage.

Wang Lin’s own vision swam with red. He found himself locked within his own mind, a prisoner in his own flesh. His body, a mere puppet, moved with a horrifying purpose, utterly consumed by the overwhelming tide of bloodlust.

With a primal surge, he exploded from the blood pool, a figure wreathed in crimson, a scarlet whirlwind of fury unleashed upon the killing field.

The slaughter had begun in earnest!

Lost within the abyss of his bloodlust, Wang Lin fought with an instinctive savagery. His hands became instruments of death, weaving the secrets of the Vanishing Finger and the Devilish Transformation. Ancient spells and forgotten artifacts flowed from him, each strike a symphony of destruction.

Where he trod, death followed.

His eyes burned with a fierce crimson light, the world reduced to a single, overwhelming imperative: Kill!

Here, survival hinged upon brutality. To hesitate was to perish, to falter was to invite oblivion. This blood-soaked realm was nothing less than a gladiatorial arena, a proving ground where only the most ruthless could endure.

Crimson ichor coated Wang Lin from head to toe, yet he fought with tireless abandon. Each stride carried him deeper into the fray, each glimpse of an enemy igniting a renewed surge of rage. He embraced reckless abandon, wielding suicidal techniques without hesitation.

Those who fell beneath his hand did not find true release. Held captive by the unholy magic of this place, they were reborn within the blood pools, destined to feed the endless cycle of violence. They were no longer men, but mere vessels, conduits for the ethereal essence of slaughter.

The vital essence of their murders streamed skyward, an invisible tide drawn towards an unseen and unknowable destination.

Finally, the tide of battle began to ebb. The survivors, their bodies soaked in gore and their eyes still blazing with crimson fire, were each cloaked in a terrifying mantle of bloody carnage. Including Wang Lin, only a hundred remained.

The killing ground fell into an uneasy silence. The few survivors, each radiating a palpable aura of murderous intent, scattered like phantoms. They sought out the sanctuary of the blood pools, and as they did so, the newly reborn occupants of the blood pools quickly moved, leaving the pools to a singular occupant.

Wang Lin, wreathed in a three-丈 thick fog of crimson death, plunged into one of the pools. As he approached, the dozen or so denizens already within it stirred, rose, and hastily departed, a flicker of fear crossing their bloodshot eyes.

Alone, Wang Lin settled into the blood pool. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and after what seemed like an eternity, opened them once more. The crimson fire that had consumed him began to fade, replaced by a flicker of lucidity.

“The ‘killing heart’ that Xu spoke of… It is nothing less than the heart of bloodlust! Only by embracing the desire for destruction can one truly master the essence of slaughter. Without it, the absorption of this bloody energy is nearly impossible. My previous successes were merely flukes, fortunate accidents.” Wang Lin drew a deep breath, closed his eyes once more, and sank back into the blood. He surrendered to the crimson embrace, seeking to understand the secrets of the killing heart.

And so it was that, in this scarlet world, the slaughter began anew. Every day brought fresh waves of carnage, each one claiming countless lives. But with each brutal cycle, a select few would grow stronger, their bloody shrouds thickening with the essence of death.

One day, a youth with hair as black as midnight stood out amongst the rest. His bloody shroud was over a hundred-丈 thick!

He stood in the sky, an absolute emperor.

As the last wave of bloodshed subsided, the black-haired youth lifted his head, unleashing a furious roar that shook the very foundations of the world. The bloody shroud around him churned, a tempest of death.

Then, a streak of lightning tore across the sky. A serpentine dragon made of pure silver materialized, its cold, merciless eyes sweeping across the battlefield. With a single, gargantuan breath, it inhaled.

The bloody shrouds surrounding every combatant were torn free, soaring towards the heavens and disappearing into the maw of the silver beast.

The black-haired youth screamed, a cry of defiance, and launched himself towards the monstrous dragon. But as he reached a thousand-丈 altitude, the dragon turned, its eyes flashing with blinding silver light. The youth’s body exploded, dissolving into a shower of blood and gore that rained down from the heavens. His bloody shroud was consumed by the dragon, and then it vanished.

In that instant, as the silver dragon disappeared, clarity returned to Wang Lin’s eyes. He understood. This silver dragon was likely the Demon Sword Empyrean that Xu had spoken of. The bloody shrouds, forged from the essence of slaughter, were its sustenance.

The black-haired youth, though consumed, was reborn in one of the blood pools. The bloody aura which had surrounded him was now gone, making him indistinguishable from an ordinary mortal, if he ever wants to reach the heights he once had, he must do it all over again.

With the day’s slaughter complete, the land fell silent once more. Wang Lin sat in the blood pool, meditating on the killing heart.

“When I first learned the Immortal Slaughter Art, the master told me that my comprehension of life and death was necessary to cultivate the power of murder. That sentence, has finally come to fruition.” The aura of bloody murder began to seep into Wang Lin’s body through the blood pool.

“But, there’s still a fine detail I haven’t grasped, what exactly is the connection between slaughter and death?” Wang Lin fell into deep thought.

Night passed, and the next day, the slaughter began anew!
Here, in this cyclical realm of crimson and strife, Wang Lin was consumed by slaughter. He knew not the passage of time, yet the murderous intent within him grew ever more potent, ever more dense, a palpable miasma clinging to his soul.

Through unending carnage, through the ceaseless absorption of the echoes of death, Wang Lin began to awaken to the very *heart* of murder.

The brutal contest, once teeming with a hundred souls adrift in the bloodstained skies, had dwindled. Now, with a single, crimson-tinged finger, Wang Lin extinguished another life. His eyes blazed with sanguinary light, a predator’s gaze sweeping the battlefield. A mere handful, less than fifty warriors, remained amidst the scarlet expanse!

These survivors, abandoning their former fury, scattered, each claiming a blood pool as their own, silently drawing upon its morbid energies. After Wang Lin’s latest day of slaughter, the sanguine mist that swirled around him had grown to a staggering fifty fathoms thick! Time continued its inexorable march, yet its passing remained a mystery.

Again, the carnage erupted. When it subsided, Wang Lin roared his defiance to the heavens. Barely twenty combatants lingered, the spectral shroud about him now seventy fathoms dense. His rivals, too, bore similar burdens, each wreathed in layers of sanguinary vapor.

Day after day, within this realm steeped in blood, even moments of clarity could not reveal the true span of time that had passed. Had he not woven the five Threads of Slaughter into Living Emblems, marked upon his very being, Wang Lin believed he would have perished countless times.

Empowered by these vibrant, etched runes, Wang Lin moved through the fray like a predator reborn, his strength ascendant with each fallen foe.

Finally, after the last clash of a blood-soaked day, only two figures remained standing beneath the blood-red sky!

One was Wang Lin himself. The crimson mist surrounding him, thick and swirling, stretched hundreds of fathoms in every direction, transforming him into a veritable sun of blood.

Before him stood the black-haired youth who had emerged at the beginning of this gruesome trial. Once more, he had clawed his way to prominence. The sanguine vapor clinging to him rivaled even Wang Lin’s in volume and intensity!

Suddenly, a flash of silver erupted across the heavens. The Silver Dragon materialized, its cold gaze sweeping down, settling upon Wang Lin and the dark-haired youth. Then, with a savage surge, it *inhaled!*

The black-haired warrior roared anew, launching himself towards the celestial serpent. A flicker of mockery crossed the dragon’s ancient features. A gargantuan claw descended, crushing him with a single, brutal gesture.

In that instant, a palpable sense of celestial power filled the air. The dark-haired warrior’s body exploded in a shower of gore. But even as his flesh scattered, a tendril of the surrounding blood mist detached itself, plunged into his dissolving form, and the man was truly dead.

Simultaneously, within a blood pool far below, the black-haired youth was reborn. Bereft of all his former rage, he sat cross-legged, silent, his gaze fixed firmly on the tainted earth, never once looking toward the sky.

Now, the Silver Dragon’s cold gaze turned upon Wang Lin.

Without hesitation, Wang Lin dispersed his accumulated blood mist, allowing it to drift upwards, and descended to the ground, leaving only the scarlet vapor to be consumed by the celestial beast. The Silver Dragon vanished. Wang Lin landed.

He stared after the receding dragon, a dawning clarity filling his eyes. He nonchalantly approached an unoccupied blood pool. Those who had been within rose swiftly, fleeing from his presence.

Alone in the crimson pool, Wang Lin’s mind remained clear and focused. A smile slowly bloomed upon his lips, growing until it became a full-throated laugh. His mirth echoed through the blood-soaked realm, yet none dared to look upon him, each consumed by the desperate need to absorb the echoes of death.

“The Immortal Art of Slaughter… to claim life with the whispers of murder, to forge Living Emblems from nascent vitality! To draw forth life from death, to tread the wheel of Samsara! Taking the death of one to forge an Emblem of life!

This, then, is the cycle of life and death! The eternal dance of being and oblivion! The Silver Dragon consumes the crimson mist for its own renewal. The blood realm itself… it is all governed by the same principle… So *this* is the truth!” Comprehension dawned upon him.

As this realization took hold, the five Threads of Slaughter emerged from the Living Emblems upon his flesh. They converged rapidly, twisting together at his chest, forming a swirling vortex of grey.

The vortex spun faster and faster, then vanished into his chest, disappearing completely. In that instant, Wang Lin’s presence underwent a profound transformation. An aura of slaughter, unlike anything ever witnessed within this realm of blood, erupted from him!

In that moment, every single being dwelling within the crimson pools snapped their eyes open, turning as one to behold Wang Lin.

“Essence of Slaughter!” Wang Lin’s voice reverberated throughout the blood-soaked world!

As the aura of his Immortal Art expanded, cracking sounds echoed from the blood pools nearest to him. One by one, those who had died countless times, only to be resurrected, crumbled into dust. Streams of grey vapor poured forth from their decaying bodies, coalescing into nascent Essences of Slaughter!

Instantly, hundreds of these ghostly wisps emerged, swirling around Wang Lin like a spectral retinue.

But this was not the end. From every blood pool radiating outwards from Wang Lin, every being within the domain collapsed, their bodies dissolving into grey vapor!

The entire realm of crimson began to unravel. Rivers of ash, countless streams of ghostly essence, surged towards Wang Lin, forming a swirling vortex of Slaughter Essence around him.

None who crumbled were reborn. This was their true, final death. In their dying moments, they beheld with sudden clarity, a glimpse of release from their endless torment.

The crimson world shuddered. As the grey vapor surged, the black-haired youth from the distant blood pool looked up, his eyes pools of crimson. An aura of crimson mist began to coalesce about him. He snarled, his jaw clenched, becoming the only other being in this place to resist the dissolution into grey vapor.

Three thousand, seven hundred and ninety-two wisps of grey encircled Wang Lin, dancing in the ravaged skies. Wang Lin rose from the blood pool. In this moment, only he and the black-haired youth remained in this blood-soaked world.

A deafening clap of thunder tore through the sky. The Silver Dragon, in a blaze of lightning, reappeared. Its colossal eyes, filled with unbridled fury, fixed upon Wang Lin. A killing intent filled the air.