Hell Slaughter Arena

The desolate lands of the far west—Killing City.

A skeleton-like man walked tremblingly in a certain direction, carrying a goblet.

"What do I do?! What do I do?! What do I do?!"

The man nervously stroked his body up and down, hoping to squeeze more blood from his shriveled veins.

As he turned into an alley, his foot caught on something, sending him sprawling to the ground. The goblet in his hand rolled far away.

Just as he was about to curse, the man saw what had tripped him and grew so excited that drool began to spill from his mouth.

A tall young man lay sprawled where he had tripped. His long black hair, streaked with dark gold, was scattered around him, and it was impossible to tell whether he was alive or dead.

His clothes were tattered, and wounds deep enough to expose bone covered his body. The blood flowing from them carried a faint golden sheen, yet the man seemed unable to see any of those strange details. All he saw was the young man's plump, fresh flesh.

The next moment, the man rushed forward and opened his mouth, intending to bite down on the young man's arm.

Fill both cups.

But just as he was about to grab the young man, the youth lying on the ground suddenly opened his eyes. A small knife glimmering with a dim blue light stabbed directly into the man's neck.

Pushing away the shriveled corpse killed in a single blow, the young man rose to his feet, shook out his arms, and twisted his neck as though adapting to this body.

Ghost Sculpture floated in the air, trembling gently and radiating delight.

"Hey, old friend. Long time no see. Time is tight, so we'll have to talk next time." As soon as the young man finished speaking, Ghost Sculpture stopped trembling and simply hovered quietly, as though guarding him.

The young man, whose bearing seemed utterly otherworldly, did not mind the filthy surroundings. He sat down directly on the ground.

A vertical eye opened between his brows. One golden and one silver pupil spun and intertwined, and a broken little sword of gold-green flew out from the golden pupil. Its blade was badly damaged, no larger than a palm, and it hovered quietly above the young man's hand.

Looking at the little sword in his palm, the young man let out a string of low, hoarse roars that sounded like those of a dragon, their pitch rising and falling.

Invisible laws were stirred. His hair moved without wind, and the tiny metal sword in his hand seemed to melt. He opened his mouth and inhaled, drawing the gold-green liquid into his body.

Gold-green light surged, and the wounds on his body seemed to turn back time, healing completely in an extremely short span.

Twisting a strand of golden hair around his fingers, the young man sneered. "What a method. There's only this little left after everything was stripped away."

Illusory gray scales emerged across his body. The bones of his forehead and the few golden strands mixed among his black hair began to glow. Amid the surging light, his body gradually shrank until the light finally contracted into the region of his heart and dispersed.

The young man became a boy of around ten, collapsed on the ground with his chest rising and falling faintly.

Only then did the strange vertical eye between the boy's brows quietly close, transforming into a tattoo of a vertical eye interwoven in gold and silver.

The changes on the boy's body vanished, and Ghost Sculpture swiftly dissipated into the air, merging into the boy's body.

From the dark alley came the gradual sound of orderly footsteps.

A soldier in armor jogged into the alley. After seeing the two people lying on the ground, he immediately turned back to report.

"Captain, the same as before?" The soldier bowed respectfully.

The man at the head of the group, seated on a tall horse, glanced at the newcomer with cold eyes. "Do I need to teach you the rules of Killing City?"

With a wave of his hand, three soldiers stepped forward. Two lifted the boy by his arms, one on each side, while the third picked up the iron token left beside the gaunt man.

As for whether the man had truly died by the boy's hand, or whether the boy was really capable of killing an adult like him, none of that was their concern.

The fair-skinned boy was carried all the way there. Huo Yuhao's thoughts were a mess, and his Sea of Spirit seemed to still be immersed in that earth-shattering agony.

Until he was casually thrown onto the platform.

Thud!

Dust billowed up.

With the required number of participants reached, the slaughter began at once.

The gaunt man closest to Huo Yuhao attacked him without hesitation. After all, killing an utterly defenseless ant like this took little effort, and he could enjoy himself one last time before dying.

The man's killing intent was undisguised. He was determined to cut the boy before him in half. Of course, it would be even better if he could watch the boy drag himself along with only half his body before dying.

The most direct killing intent struck him, and Huo Yuhao instantly woke up and entered a combat state.

He gripped with his right hand, and Ghost Sculpture appeared instantly. As his footwork carried him out of the way, he tried to spread out his spiritual sense, only to find his body completely empty. Even the height of his viewpoint had changed!

Though his power was gone, Huo Yuhao did not panic.

Ghost Sculpture flashed through his hand like the wind, slicing through the opponent's wrist tendons from a tricky angle.

The man cried out in pain, and the longsword in his hand instantly flew away. Yet his ferocity erupted as he thrust a dagger with his other hand straight at Huo Yuhao's eyeball.

Seeing this, Huo Yuhao stopped holding back. His footwork shifted, his body lowered slightly, and he sliced open the man's carotid artery from below. The gushing blood instantly dyed his entire body red.

He escaped danger.

Huo Yuhao swept his Spirit Eyes over the entire arena. Even without soul skills or spiritual sense, Spirit Eyes' powers of observation remained unmatched.

Including himself, there were ten people in the massive arena. Three had already fallen, while every remaining person radiated madness and bloodlust.

Huo Yuhao's gaze met that of one of them. The man stood over two meters tall, with a muscular build and a meteor hammer in hand. He was the strongest of those still standing!

The instant their eyes met, the man swung his meteor hammer toward Huo Yuhao's head.

Naturally, Huo Yuhao would not be struck by such a simple attack. With a flash of movement, he dodged aside.

In that brief moment, Huo Yuhao had already understood the rules of this match.

There were no rules. Only one person could survive this chaotic melee.

Using his advantage in size, Huo Yuhao defended without attacking. The meteor hammer was a weapon of wide, sweeping strikes, and before long, countless streams of blood had dyed the entire arena red!

Until only three remained: the meteor hammer wielder, Huo Yuhao, and a fat man whose martial soul was a steel fork.

The two men's eyes were filled with bloodshot veins. They had completely descended into madness, while Huo Yuhao calmly observed the movements in the arena.

Finally, after the burly meteor hammer wielder turned and swung fiercely, Ghost Sculpture flew from Huo Yuhao's hand in an instant.

The next moment, a broadcast rang out.

"The winner of this round, number 9233."

At this result, the crowd erupted in uproar.

A clamor immediately rose from the spectators outside the arena. No one had expected that the one to survive would be this boy, thrown onto the platform by the enforcement squad, whose aura was so weak that he was practically an ordinary person!