Feng Lingtian's fall lasted longer than he had imagined.
There was no light around, only the gap above his head gradually shrinking and contracting until it closed completely.
The wind whistled in my ears, and the speed of my descent increased, as if I were being pulled downwards by something.
Feng Lingtian adjusted his posture, circulating his Soul Power within his body, ready to deal with the impact of landing at any moment.
The moment his feet touched the ground, he bent his knees to absorb the force and stood firmly.
The passageway was narrow, with rough, uneven walls on both sides, as if they had been carved out by brute force.
The air was thick with a bloody stench even stronger than in the tavern, mixed with the rust and a certain sweet, rotten smell.
A faint dark red halo could be seen ahead in the passageway, which looked like an exit.
Just as Feng Lingtian was about to take a step forward, a heavy footstep came from the depths of the passageway—unhurried, each step accompanied by the crisp sound of metal striking stone.
The footsteps stopped about ten paces away from him.
In the dark red halo, a tall silhouette gradually became clear.
He was covered in jet-black armor, with barbs growing on his shoulder armor and gauntlets. His face was not visible under his helmet; only a red light, deeper than the surrounding dark red, shone brightly and burned inside the helmet.
He also held a long sword in his hand, its blade broad and thick, gleaming with a dull metallic luster.
"Violator. You jumped in without completing the trial. According to the rules, you either defeat me to gain passage, or you die here."
"There is no third way to go." The voice came from deep within the armor, low and hoarse, like metal rubbing against gravel.
Feng Lingtian didn't rush to answer. He quickly assessed the situation in his mind—his opponent was Soul Emperor level, with strong armor defense and a steady but unpredictable sword style. It wasn't a killing move, but a test.
"Then let's go," Feng Lingtian said.
The Terror Knight didn't speak, and immediately began to fight. His sword slashed horizontally, accompanied by a heavy whooshing sound.
Feng Lingtian didn't meet the attack head-on. Instead, he shifted his feet and slid away, his body brushing against the sword's edge. His right hand conjured a wind blade in the air and slashed back at the Terror Knight's neck—the wind blade struck the armor, leaving only a shallow white mark.
"Not enough force." The Terror Knight's voice was devoid of any emotion.
Feng Lingtian didn't reply, but took half a step back to create distance again.
The wind blades he unleashed were no longer just aimed at the armored areas, but precisely sliced towards the joints—
The gap between the wrist and arm armor, the seam between the knee and leg armor, and the gap between the neck and shoulder armor.
Each strike was light, but their cumulative effect gradually made the Terror Knight's movements sluggish.
The fight lasted for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.
Taking advantage of the moment when the Terror Knight's sword swing missed and his center of gravity shifted forward, Feng Lingtian lowered his body and rushed into close range, his wind blade precisely cutting into the gap between the neck armor and shoulder armor.
The sound of metal snapping rang out crisply in the passageway, and the Terror Knight's helmet tilted slightly as his longsword drooped.
"Enough." The Terror Knight's voice was softer than before. "You passed."
He sheathed his longsword and casually tossed a dark iron plaque from his waist.
Feng Lingtian caught the metal plate. It was cold to the touch, with a rough skull pattern engraved on its surface. Below it were several scratches of varying depths, spelling out a number: 7364.
"Take this; this is your status in the Slaughter City. Keep moving forward; someone will meet you."
Feng Lingtian glanced down at the number on the iron plate, put it in his pocket, and walked past the Terror Knight.
The passageway gradually widened ahead, and the dark red glow grew brighter and brighter. After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, an open stone door appeared at the end of the passage.
Behind the stone gate stood a woman in black robes, her face ordinary and her age indiscernible. She saw Feng Lingtian emerge, her gaze lingering for a moment on the iron plaque hanging from his waist, then she stepped aside. "Come with me."
Feng Lingtian followed the guide through the stone gate and stepped onto the ground of the Slaughter City.
A dark red sky hung overhead, pressing heavily on our vision. The air was thick with the stench of blood and rust, as if it had solidified.
In the distance, the outlines of buildings can be seen, varying in height and resembling a nest made of countless stacked stones.
Occasionally, sporadic screams could be heard coming from a certain direction, but they were quickly drowned out by something.
The black-robed guide walked ahead with even steps. Feng Lingtian followed behind her, noticing several figures sitting or standing along the way, their gazes sweeping over him like wild beasts sizing up their prey, yet hesitant to act because of the guide's presence.
"The rules of the Slaughter City are simple," the guide began, his tone calm. "Win one hundred matches in the Hell Slaughter Arena, and you'll qualify to challenge the Hell Road. Before that, you can do anything—as long as you have the Yellow Springs Dew, anything is negotiable."
" Yellow Springs Dew?" Feng Lingtian asked.
"You jumped down without drinking, right?" The guide didn't turn around. "That stuff is 'money' in the Slaughter City."
Common currencies like gold coins are useless here, as are Soul Bone; the only usable item is Yellow Springs Dew.
"You'll have to trade Yellow Springs Dew for intelligence, weapons, shelter, even a life-saving helper."
She paused for a moment. "Also, if you want to participate in the Hell Slaughter Arena, you have to pay a cup of Yellow Springs Dew before you can enter. So if you plan to fight, you'd better prepare a cup of Yellow Springs Dew beforehand."
Feng Lingtian didn't reply, but simply memorized the information.
"Challenge the Hell Road? What's that?" Feng Lingtian changed the subject.
"That's the core trial of the Slaughter City. Passing the Hell Road grants you the Divine Slaughter's Domain, allows you to become the Slaughter God, and lets you leave this place." The guide paused, "However, in the past thousand years, only a handful of people have managed to pass it."
Feng Lingtian paused for a few steps, then said, "There is something I would like to ask you to convey to the King of Slaughter."
The guide stopped and turned to look at him.
"Before I came in, my elders asked me to pass on a message: someone might be tampering with the Hell Road soon, so please be careful, King of Slaughter."
The guide remained silent for a few moments. She didn't ask who Feng Lingtian's elders were, but she had already learned from the guard's message about the mental fluctuation that had silenced the entire entrance in the tavern.
The words of someone who can sit in a tavern and intimidate the King of Slaughter carry weight.
"I will deliver the message," the guide said, and then continued walking.
They walked through several streets and finally stopped in front of a tall, round building.
The building's exterior walls are made of dark gray stone bricks, and the entrance doorway resembles a gaping maw, from which a dark red light shines.
"This is the Hell Slaughter Arena," the guide said, gesturing with his chin. "Each match has ten participants, and only one can survive. Win a hundred matches, and you'll qualify to challenge the Hell Road."
Feng Lingtian gazed at the building, the dark red light shining on his mask, revealing the blue feather pattern.
The guide gave him one last look. "Your newcomer protection period is only twelve hours. Once it ends, anyone in the Slaughter City can attack you. Think twice."
After saying that, she turned and left, her black robe quickly disappearing into the shadows of the street.
Feng Lingtian stood in front of the entrance to the Hell Slaughter Arena, gazing at the dark red doorway.
He certainly knew the rules—ten people enter, and only one comes out alive.
He also knew what the Yellow Springs Dew was, what the Hell Road meant, and that behind this seemingly chaotic place lay a precisely operating order.
This knowledge comes from his memories before he traveled through time, from a world he once regarded as a story.
But he couldn't show that he knew.
In the Slaughter City, a "newcomer" should act like a newcomer—ask what needs to be asked, listen when necessary, and pretend to be completely unaware when it's time to pretend not to know.
He understood every word the guide said better than he thought, but he simply nodded, remained silent, and asked questions, just like anyone else stepping into this place for the first time.
He clenched his fingers, then stepped inside.