Fang Mo found himself in an endless river of blood.
The crimson river churned and roared, its muddy waves towering into the heavens. A reek of blood and savage malice struck directly at his soul. Hundreds of millions of fragmented souls rose and sank within the river, their shrill wails unceasing. Every drop of blood contained the power of a killing calamity that burned the heart and gnawed the bones.
Simply remaining within this blood river meant being eroded, dragged under, and devoured by its power. He was like a small boat floating upon the river, enduring the onslaught of its force.
No, those were not bloody waves. They were blades.
Some blade lights were like death-seizing calamity flashes, shattering the soul and extinguishing all life with a single slash.
Some blade momentum spanned heaven and earth; with one cleave, the blood river surged and countless living beings were buried and destroyed.
Some blade marks were peerlessly sharp, made solely to sever the foundations of the Great Dao. Wherever they passed, laws crumbled and Dao resonance vanished.
There were even blades that fused the Dao of Killing, the Dao of Blood, and the Dao of Devouring into one. When such a blade fell, all things returned to silence. Even true spirits were utterly shredded and devoured, left without the slightest chance of reincarnation.
Fang Mo sat unmoving, allowing that violent, savage, unyielding Calamity Slaying Blade Intent to scour his Dao heart and soul.
The stronger the killing intent became, the stiller his heart grew; the fiercer the bloodlight, the colder his gaze became.
The blade skill continuously sharpened, broke apart, and reformed before his eyes. The true essence of the Dao of Killing, the origin of the Dao of Blood, and the laws of Devouring intertwined and fused, gradually forming