"Want to enter the Capital of Slaughter? Drink this first."
He pushed the ceramic cup across the counter, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper scraping together, then continued speaking to Shen Lian.
"That's the rule."
Shen Lian glanced at the cup of "Bloody Mary," his gaze turning faintly cold.
The original story had made it clear: this stuff was brewed from the blood of living people. It was said to test whether an entrant possessed the heart of a killer, but in truth, it was merely the Capital of Slaughter's first round of screening—anyone who did not even dare drink blood was unworthy of setting foot in that hell.
But Shen Lian had not fallen so low that he needed to drink human blood to prove anything.
The bartender seemed to see through his reluctance. A malicious smile curled across his lips as he spoke to Shen Lian in a tone that suggested Shen Lian did not know his place.
"Consider yourself lucky. I happen to have some ready-made supplies here. Those idiots in the back will have to find their own 'materials.'"
Shen Lian abruptly turned around. Sure enough, the group that had mocked him earlier had already surrounded him, knives and axes in hand gleaming coldly beneath the oil lamps.
They looked at him as though he were a lamb awaiting slaughter—the rules of the Capital of Slaughter were that newcomers often became ingredients for Bloody Mary.
"You don't know your place."
Shen Lian's voice was as cold as ice.
Before anyone could react, a dark-gold blade flashed like lightning.
"Slash—"
A soft sound rang out, accompanied by the crisp, uniform crack of bones breaking.
The dozen or so people who had surrounded him still wore ferocious grins, but their upper bodies had already separated from their lower