The King of Slaughter: Please, You Living Ancestors, Just Take the Free Pass

In the largest restaurant's private room in the inner city of the Slaughter City, the doors and windows were tightly shut today.

Inside, there were no eerie oil candles. On the large octagonal table in the center, a large copper pot was bubbling and steaming. The rich aroma of stewed soybeans and pig's trotters mixed with the smell of Old Huang, driving away the centuries-old stench of blood seeping from the walls to the cracks in the door.

Ling Yun sat imposingly in the main seat, his feet on a long bench, scooping up mushy tendons from a pot with chopsticks in his hand.

Xiao Wu sat beside him, wiping the oil splatters on the back of his hands with a cloth. Ning Rongrong was lying on half of the table, her little hands frantically manipulating the abacus beads, muttering to herself, "Yesterday the ticket commission was 8,600, the betting operation made a net profit of 12,000, and the scrap iron we collected was worth 2,000... Brother Yun, this lousy place makes money faster than the gold shops in Heaven Dou City!"

"Squeak."

The sturdy wooden door of the private room was carefully pushed open a crack.

A tall, imposing figure draped in a bright red cloak strode in and slammed the door bolt shut.

It was none other than the ruler of this living hell, the King of Slaughter.

This infamous and ruthless figure, who was notorious throughout the continent, now had no trace of his former power on his pale, zombie-like face. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and the veins on his forehead throbbed, giving him the appearance of someone who had been tortured to the point of near death.

"Oh my, what a rare guest!"

Ling Yun didn't even budge. He waved the end of his chopsticks at the empty bench opposite him, his tone as casual as if he were greeting an old widower visiting a village. "His Majesty isn't in court today, so what brings you here to smell the aroma of meat? Fatty, bring another bowl and chopsticks!"

No! Please don't add any more!

The King of Slaughter shuddered, a sour taste rising in his throat, and quickly waved his hand. The stench of pickled cabbage, garlic, and rotten pork that had filled the city for the past few days was making his brain feel like it was about to explode.

He sat halfway down on the edge of the bench, his bloodshot eyes filled with an almost pleading humility, and spoke in a low voice:

"Captain Ling... Master Ling! Let's not beat around the bush."

The King of Slaughter rubbed his pale hands together, his voice hoarse and dry. "You youngsters from Blue Tyrant have almost reached sixty consecutive wins. When Dai Mubai and Ma Hongjun went on stage, it was no different from slaughtering chickens in a slaughterhouse. The spectators below don't even have the courage to draw their swords anymore. As soon as they see them go on stage, they kneel in the mud pit, paying money to beg not to break their ribs. This Hell Slaughter Arena has been running for hundreds of years, and you've ruined the whole business!"

How can you call it "stirring it up"?

Ning Rongrong hugged the abacus to her chest, glaring at her almond-shaped eyes as she retorted, "We've revitalized your killing arena's economy! It's packed every day now, and betting orders are booked up for three days in advance!"

The King of Slaughter's lips twitched violently twice. Ignoring the little money-grubber, he took a deep breath and pulled out six black-gold tokens, each exuding a chilling killing intent, from under his crimson cloak. He slammed them onto the table with a loud bang.

"This king has granted special permission!"

"You'll be exempt from the remaining forty matches!"

The King of Slaughter leaned forward, his tone urgent as if he were washing his hands of a mess. "Guaranteed admission without examination! Six Asura God Tokens, I will personally stamp them for you! Not only that, you can take the Yellow Springs Blood Dew with you, and I will personally pave the way for the traps on the Hell Road! As long as you ancestors pack your bags and Slaughter City of here tonight, you can boast all you want about this Slaughter Capital, I won't utter a single word, is that alright?!"

The mighty ruler of Hell, for the first time ever, proactively opened a back door for those who wanted to pass through, offering them a generous gift package. He was practically begging these living ancestors to get out of the city.

Ma Hongjun and Dai Mubai's eyes widened in disbelief. Could such a good thing really be delivered to their doorstep?

Ling Yun, who was sitting in the main seat, slowly put down his chopsticks.

He pulled a wooden skewer from his pocket, picked at the bits of pork stuck between his back teeth, his eyelids drooping, and gave a cold laugh:

"Your Majesty, do you think I'm a beggar?"

The King of Slaughter froze. "You... what do you mean?"

The meaning is very clear.

Ling Yun slammed the wooden skewer on the table, his lazy expression vanishing instantly, replaced by the menacing look of a thug trying to extort money.

"I led my brothers all the way to this godforsaken mud pit, just for your few worthless iron plaques? Rongrong's gambling den just opened, making tens of thousands of gold coins a day, and we haven't even had a chance to enjoy the dividends yet. Now you're telling us to pack up and leave? Outsiders will think I, Blue Tyrant, got my God of Slaughter title through back channels. Where will that leave my face?"

Ling Yun stood with his legs apart, elbows resting on his knees, staring intently at the King of Slaughter:

"You want us to leave? Fine. Pay us the demolition and resettlement compensation to get out."

"Your Inner Treasury contains hundreds of years' worth of Deep Sea Black Iron Mother Ore, aged top-grade Supreme Yin-Cold Spirit Herbs, plus the inner core of that Ten Headed Fierce Yang Serpent from Hell Road. Pack it all up and send it to me in cash."

"If you miss one thing, I'll bring my whole team and live in your inner city for three to five years, cooking different kinds of stewed leeks and stir-fried pork liver every day, so that your Slaughter City will be filled with the smell of scallions and garlic from morning till night!"

"You... you're blatantly robbing me!!" The King of Slaughter was so enraged that black energy surged from his body, and his fangs clenched so tightly they rattled.

"I'm going to rob you."

Ling Yun raised an eyebrow, a glint of water flashing in his deep blue eyes, and the high-pressure water vapor surrounding him, which ignored the restrictions of the Slaughter City, hummed faintly.

"You're not convinced? Let's clash right here on the table and see if your bat feathers are harder, or my high-pressure water jet is sharper?"

The King of Slaughter looked at the unfathomable glimmer of Divine Sense between Ling Yun's brows, and then thought of the Terror Knight outside who was still wrapped in a horse blanket and crying with his bare bottom exposed. He bit his back teeth so hard that blood seeped out.

He couldn't figure out the Little Monster's true nature if he attacked; if he just waited, the entire Slaughter City would eventually be turned into a giant vat for pickling vegetables by these bandits!

"Fine... fine! I've had the worst luck of eight lifetimes!!"

The King of Slaughter abruptly waved his crimson cloak, Crunch his teeth and swallowing his anger. "Deliver the goods to the back door at midnight tonight! Take them and get to Hell Road immediately! If you dare linger even a moment longer, I'll take you down with me, even if it means my soul is destroyed!!"

After uttering this weak but threatening remark, the King of Slaughter didn't even bother to open the door, transforming into a cloud of black smoke and fleeing through the ventilation vent.

Beside the table, Ning Rongrong clapped her hands and jumped for joy. "Wow! Brother Yun! What a huge harvest! We've copied all the secrets of Hell!"

Ling Yun picked up his wine bowl, took a sip, and scoffed, "Trying to play the underworld with me? He's miles behind."

At the same time.

Inside the sewer pipe outside the killing field, reeking of swill.

"Huff... huff..."

Heavy breathing echoed in the damp, dark cave.

Tang San lay on a moldy Plate, his hands as black as coal, his fingernails filled with Grimer.

In front of him were seven or eight rusty nails he had salvaged from a garbage dump, and a few pieces of hard gravel he had secretly picked up.

For three days and three nights, he huddled in this rat hole, enduring the smell of pickled cabbage and pig's trotters wafting from the ventilation vent above his head, pushing his Mysterious Jade Hand to its limit, using pebbles to grind the Iron Barbs bit by bit, finally turning a long nail made of Deep Sea Sinking Silver into Mechanism Needle Tip that could be launched.

"It's done... it's finally done!"

Tang San's eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the rough, blackened Sinking Silver Flying Needle in his hand. A sickly, maniacal laugh Rollout suppressedly in his throat.

"Ling Yun... you stole my Soul Bones, insulted my sect, and trampled me into this muddy pit..."

Tang San, bracing his broken ribs, gritted his teeth and shuffled up the cast iron ladder of the sewer, his eyes contorted with a ferocious rage like a demon just crawled out of hell.

"But you've overlooked something! The martial arts of my Tang Sect can only unleash their most poisonous deadly bloom in dire straits! As long as I endure and lie in wait, killing a hundred matches in the killing field, comprehending the Divine Slaughter's Domain, and obtaining the true Asura Killing Aura..."

With a "click," Tang San pushed open the cast iron manhole cover on the street corner.

He eagerly poked half his head out, breathing in the fishy-smelling air, ready to take the first step in his "ascetic revenge."

However.

The moment the manhole cover was pushed open, the sight before Tang San made his blood freeze.

It was located on the main road of the inner city, less than twenty steps away from the sewer well.

Two teams of heavily armored law enforcement knights stood in orderly rows on either side, their backs ramrod straight, not daring to utter a single loud word.

In the center of the procession, four strong and burly Soul Kings were carrying a large and luxurious rosewood palanquin, with thick silk curtains hanging around it to protect it from the wind and light.

At the front of the sedan chair, the captain of the King of Slaughter's guard, his face plastered with a fawning smile, held two large Agarwood chests filled with Deep Sea Black Iron Mother Ore radiating endless chill and several ancient, top-grade Earth-Core Yin Lotus. He was bowing and speaking into the sedan chair curtain:

"Master Ling, please have a seat. At the other end of the Hell Road, the King has already sent men to clear away all the rubble and traps along the way. We've even taken down the fire bat nests by the roadside with a large net. We guarantee you gentlemen a safe and smooth journey!"

The sedan curtain was lifted a crack.

Ma Hongjun, chewing on a roasted lamb leg, poked half his head out and casually tossed the cleaned bone on the ground. "Alright, enough nonsense. Make sure you carry that box of liniment in the back carefully. If you miss even one box, I'll tear your palace down!"

"Yes, yes! Don't worry, Fatty! Lift it carefully, start the sedan chair! Send Master Ling to the Hell Road!!"

The procession of carriages and horses, resembling a wedding party, swaggered along the main road and rumbled towards the forbidden area of the inner city.

Inside the sewer opening.

Tang San, his head covered in sewage and weeds, was stuck stiffly halfway up the well.

The chilly wind of early winter carried a few rotten vegetable leaves, which Frillish landed on his dark face.

He gripped the rusty iron nail, which had taken three days and three nights to barely take shape, tightly in his hand. His fingertips were bleeding from the excessive force, and his whole body was trembling violently as if he had been electrocuted.

Why?!

Why should I be eating raw meat and drinking blood in these sewers, gnawing on human bones like a wild dog to hone my Hidden Weapons, while you're having the King of Slaughter kneel and be carried out of the city in a grand sedan chair?!

"Puff--!"

Tang San's blood rushed to his head, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. He fell headfirst from the ladder back into the Stench, muddy sewer.

A rusty nail fell into a puddle and made a soft thud.

It's like a merciless mockery of a self-important clown, whose last shred of dignity is shattered beyond repair in the face of the most unreasonable bandit in the world.