A month passed amid endless slaughter and vigilance.
Lin Xia's victories in the Hell Slaughter Arena increased to nine.
That number was already enough to draw the attention of some truly powerful people in the Inner City.
That day, when he registered again, the black-clad man in charge of enrollment informed him in a hoarse voice of a rule that had never been stated clearly before:
"Number 8888, next match. Your opponents cannot have participated in fewer than five matches less than you."
Lin Xia raised his brows slightly.
"What if everyone has participated in more than five fewer matches than me?"
"Then... you will meet the strongest."
A hint of schadenfreude flashed through the black-clad man's eyes.
"The slaughter arena will always find you suitable playmates."
Lin Xia understood.
The more consecutive wins he had, the stronger and more experienced his matched opponents would become.
This rule eliminated the possibility of quickly farming match counts by slaughtering newcomers, forcing the strong into even more brutal collisions with one another.
"Got it."
Lin Xia's voice was flat as he swiped his Identity Token across the groove, and a dark-red glimmer flashed.
He turned and walked once more toward that black gate that devoured everything.
Inside the gate lay the clamor and bloodshed of his tenth battle.
Outside the gate, Zhu Zhuqing and the others' gazes followed his back closely, carrying worry, but also determination.
One year later.
A chilling aura was suffocating. Inside the Hell Slaughter Arena, ten people slowly stepped in.
Lin Xia walked third among the ten. Yet he was the focus of the other nine.
Seventy entries, seventy victories.
That was Lin Xia's current record, unsurpassed in the entire Hell Slaughter Arena.
For everyone who came here to compete, aside from the right to cling to life,