Zhao Fu fixed his eyes on Sha Ming. His entire body reeked of blood; he must have just slaughtered quite a few people. Moreover, he was the only one around—those people had likely all been killed by him.
Those who cultivated the Dao of Killing, no matter how much they restrained themselves, might avoid becoming monsters that knew only slaughter, but they would still become bloodthirsty people. Otherwise, the power of slaughter would find it difficult to grow.
Zhao Fu was considered one of the better cases. Because he himself was too powerful and possessed too many kinds of power, he had suppressed that killing intent while still allowing it to continuously grow stronger.
Sha Ming did not even spare Zhao Fu a glance, much less pay him any heed. He truly had killed those gods, merely to open the entrance to the Land of Inheritance of the God of Killing.
Naturally, the others had no power to resist Sha Ming. They had either been killed or frightened into fleeing this place, which was why there was no one left here.
After emerging, Sha Ming directly transformed into a streak of bloody light and vanished.
Since he had not even looked at Zhao Fu, he naturally had no intention of attacking him. His business was already finished, and to him, Zhao Fu was merely an ant before his eyes, utterly unworthy of notice.
Zhao Fu said nothing and paid him no mind either. Now that the entrance to the Land of the God of Killing had opened, he no longer had to trouble himself over it.
Taking Hua Ling with him, Zhao Fu flew toward the blood sphere.
Boom!
A roar sounded as the blood sphere emitted a dense bloody radiance. A frenzied killing intent erupted, sweeping in all directions