After leaving Slaughter City, Meng Chen immediately returned to his residence.
He did not rest. Instead, he frowned as he pondered.
Meng Chen did not know whether his acting could fool the King of Slaughter. But after being influenced by the Rakshasa God for so long, his intelligence had probably been corrupted as well.
Sigh, it was all the Rakshasa God's fault. It corrupted Slaughter City, forcing me to spend so much effort just to pass the divine trial.
Thinking this, Meng Chen silently cursed the Rakshasa God a few times, then lay down to rest and gather his strength for the next match.
Since things had come to this, he might as well kill.
Over the following days, Meng Chen's range of activity within Slaughter City expanded considerably.
As an envoy, he could pass through the storerooms guarded by black-armored knights. Inside were several rows of shelves containing records.
Those records documented the history of Slaughter City.
This was what shocked Meng Chen most. This hellhole actually had historical records.
No wonder the original work recorded that only eight people had received the title of Slaughter God in a thousand years. Even Slaughter City had historians constantly observing the matches, recording the events, and storing the records here.
Of course, Meng Chen did not regularly come here to consult the records. He merely pretended to be curious, casually flipping through them and wandering around.
After all, he was currently playing the role of a pervert interested in slaughter.
He still participated in the Hell Slaughter Arena matches on schedule. His opponents changed batch after batch, and their fighting styles varied widely. Some excelled at close combat, while others preferred to keep their distance.
His victory count continued to rise: seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six...
At last, one hundred victories.
Meng