The man let out a scream. The short knife slipped from his hand, and he staggered backward two steps.
He looked at his right hand, now missing two fingers. Blood welled from the stumps and wouldn't stop flowing.
Just as he was about to say something,
the Moon Eclipse Sword had already pierced his throat.
The man's eyes widened as he looked at the child before him, who barely reached his waist. His mouth opened and closed, letting out a muffled sound, then his body crashed heavily to the ground.
The entire tavern fell silent.
Luo Yun pulled out the Moon Eclipse Sword, flicked the blood from its blade, turned around, and hopped back onto the high stool.
"Another cup of water," he said to One-Eyed Dragon.
One-Eyed Dragon's face filled with fear. He hurriedly turned around and shakily poured a cup of water, setting it gently in front of Luo Yun. This time, not a single drop spilled.
Luo Yun picked up the cup and took a sip.
After finishing the water, Luo Yun set the cup gently on the bar, making a faint sound.
"How do I get out of here?"
One-Eyed Dragon's hand paused as he wiped a cup. He looked up and glanced at Luo Yun with his one eye.
"The Slaughter Arena." One-Eyed Dragon lowered his voice, as if sharing some shameful secret.
"I heard that if you get a hundred consecutive wins—one hundred matches, without losing a single one—the King of Slaughter will personally open Hell Road. If you make it out along Hell Road, you can leave this cursed place."
He paused, then added, "But in the past hundred years, fewer than five are said to have made it out. And no one has ever seen the King of Slaughter open Hell Road."
Luo Yun hopped down from the stool and headed for the tavern's exit without looking back.
"Hey..." One-Eyed Dragon called after him. "You're just going to go?"
Luo Yun didn't answer. He pushed open the tavern door.
Slaughter Arena.
Luo Yun stood before a gigantic building, looking up at the iron gate, which towered three times higher than he did.
The gate was black, covered in rust and dried blood. A stone pillar stood on either side of its frame, as if each one had been drenched in blood.
Luo Yun pushed open the iron gate and walked inside.
The space within was far larger than it had appeared from outside.
The circular arena was surrounded by tier upon tier of stands, all packed with people.
Some wore luxurious robes, some were bare-chested and covered in scars, some had their arms around heavily made-up women, and others clutched Bloody Marys in their hands, bleary-eyed as they shouted abuse at the arena floor.
At the center of the arena was a sunken platform. Dark red stone slabs covered its floor, their cracks still embedded with bloodstains from who knew how many years ago.
An iron railing ran around the edge of the platform, with all kinds of weapons hanging from it.
Luo Yun walked to the arena's registration desk. A short, fat man sat behind a battered wooden table, a pile of crumpled parchment stacked on top of it.
The man wore a filthy gray robe. His greasy hair clung to his scalp, and the flesh on his face bunched together, squeezing his eyes into two slits.
At that moment, he was still dozing. Drool trickled from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the parchment.
"I want to sign up," Luo Yun said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.
The short, fat man jolted awake. A glistening strand of drool dangled from his mouth, swayed, then snapped.
He looked up, wiped his mouth, and squinted toward the source of the voice.
Then he froze.
A child.
A clean, six-year-old child, standing before him and saying he wanted to enter the Slaughter Arena.
Am I still dreaming?
The short, fat man opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he hadn't woken up yet.
But the child was still there, standing right in front of him. Those eyes watched him calmly, without a trace of unnecessary emotion.
"You..." The short, fat man's voice seemed to scrape out of his throat. "You want to sign up?"
"Mm."
"You don't know what kind of place this is?"
"The Slaughter Arena."
"Then why...?"
"Arrange it for me." Luo Yun cut him off, his tone as casual as if he were going to the market to buy vegetables.
The short, fat man stood with his mouth open, at a loss for words.
He had worked here for twenty years and seen all kinds of people.
Demons who killed without blinking, desperate gamblers, Soul Masters driven mad by their own powers, lunatics bent on dying.
But he had never seen a six-year-old child volunteer to send himself to his death.
Just then, a commotion erupted nearby.
"That's him!" A shrill voice came from the direction of the stands. "That's the kid who killed Scar Brother in the street just now!"
"That's right, that's him! One strike through the throat! I saw it with my own eyes!"
"And that scar-faced guy at the Blood Moon Tavern, he killed him too! One strike, just one!"
"You should've seen him when he killed them. He didn't even blink!"
The voices grew louder and more numerous, gathering like a snowball rolling downhill.
People in the stands turned their heads one after another, their gazes settling on Luo Yun. Some looked surprised, some curious, some appraising, while others were alight with an almost feverish excitement.
In Slaughter City, the strong were always the center of attention.
The short, fat man's expression changed.
He looked over the child before him again, then glanced at the reactions from the stands. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Then he lowered his head, pulled a relatively clean sheet of parchment from the pile on the table, and picked up a quill with a worn-down tip. He licked its nib.
"Name." His voice had grown much more respectful.
Luo Yun thought for a moment.
His father was King Frost Extreme, so he would be called...
"Frost Cloud King."
The short, fat man's quill stopped.
King?
In Slaughter City, anyone who dared use "King" as a title was either insane or truly powerful.
The last person to use "King" as a title had died in the arena so many years ago that no one knew how long it had been.
The short, fat man looked up at Luo Yun, wanting to say something. But when he saw those calm eyes, utterly devoid of any ripples, he swallowed his words.
If this kid was looking to die, no one could stop him.
He scrawled the three characters "Frost Cloud King" onto the paper, then filled in a few more fields.
Age, sex, Martial Soul type.
Then he turned the sheet over and pushed it toward Luo Yun.
"Put your thumbprint here."
Luo Yun held out his thumb, dipped it into the pool of blood left by the man who had just been killed, and pressed it onto the parchment.
Beside the dark red fingerprint, the name "Frost Cloud King" stood out starkly in the dim light.
"Your match starts in half an hour." The short, fat man put away the parchment. "Ten people fight in each match. The last one alive wins."
Luo Yun nodded, then turned and walked toward the waiting area at the edge of the arena.
Half an hour.
Luo Yun leaned against the iron railing in the waiting area with his eyes closed. The Moon Eclipse Sword stood embedded in a crack in the stone beside his feet, its purplish-black light like a lone lamp in the dark red surroundings.
Before you continue