(Second update)
It was the same little town, the same long, narrow passage.
Without much effort, Yang Ming reached the end of the passage.
"Welcome to Slaughter City. This is the capital of hell, a world filled with slaughter. Here... uh, why are you back again?"
Before Scott could finish, he seemed to recognize Yang Ming. His pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints, and even his breathing nearly stopped. His mouth fell open as he cried out:
"Slaughter City has always allowed people in, but never out, unless they conquer the Hell Road and become a God of Slaughter. D-don't tell me you've already become a God of Slaughter? An underage God of Slaughter? What kind of joke is this? Am I still half asleep?"
Yang Ming ignored the hundred and one knights in black armor before him and walked straight ahead.
To Yang Ming as he was now, these hundred and one men were merely slightly larger ants. If they failed to know their place and blocked his way, he could casually crush them to death.
Scott wanted to stop Yang Ming and get to the bottom of things, but when his gaze met those eyes, still as an ancient well, an inexplicable, bone-deep chill rose within him. Yang Ming had released no killing intent at all, yet Scott felt as though he stood naked amid ice and snow, his hands and feet going numb.
Long after Yang Ming had left, one of Scott's subordinates noticed him standing rigidly in place as though petrified and approached to ask:
"Boss, what's wrong?"
Only then did Scott emerge from that deathly cold. He shuddered instinctively and stammered:
"N-nothing."
His gaze lingered on the receding figure as Scott murmured in a voice only he could hear:
"The skies over Slaughter City are about