Hell Canyon: The Tower Master's Name

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At the end of the Withered Bones Mountain Range, the earth cracked open.

Nan Feng stood at the edge of the crack. Looking down, all he could see was darkness.

The scent rising from the earth was clear: rotting flesh, charred bones, aged rust, and something colder than death itself.

The entrance was quieter than he had expected, like a closed mouth.

"We've arrived," Old Huai said. "Hell Canyon, the only entrance to the Slaughter City. The gatekeeper is down below."

Nan Feng squatted down and pressed the ground.

The Treasure-Appraising Spirit Light emanated from the palm of his hand and extended downwards along the rock wall.

Deep within the crack, there was a dark red light, motionless, like congealed blood embedded in the rock wall.

Gatekeeper.

Nan Feng leaped down.

The Gravity Field reverses during the fall, compressing the speed to a manageable level. Rock walls sweep past on either side.

They fell about fifty feet before their feet touched solid ground.

The ground beneath our feet was covered in dark red mud, sticky and gritty.

"You've come."

The sound came from the darkness, hoarse, like two rusty pieces of iron rubbing together.

The Nan Feng rises. Three steps away stands a human-shaped figure.

It had few human features. It was hunched over, wrapped in tattered cloth whose original color was unrecognizable, and its skin was grayish-white, covered with old and new wounds.

Where the eyes should have been, there were only two black holes. Nan Feng knew it was watching him.

Gatekeeper.

"Everyone Slaughter City must offer a Soul Ring," the gatekeeper said. "Sacrificing Soul Ring marks one with the mark of the Fallen. That's the rule."

The Treasure-Appraising Spirit Light outlined the other party's silhouette; the Soul Power fluctuations were deep and turbid, at least at the Soul Douluo level. Those fluctuations were suppressed by something even darker.

The rules of the Slaughter City are etched into its soul, making it a part of the city.

"I'm ready," said Nan Feng.

The gatekeeper stretched out his withered hand. Nan Feng placed his palm against it.

That hand was as cold as stone. A chilling power pierced through my veins, like an ice needle, traveling up my arm and reaching the depths of my soul.

The Nan Feng gritted its teeth.

The ice needle circulated within his body, beginning its search. It looked for the Soul Ring, like a snake sniffing out blood.

The three Soul Ring tightened. The Nan Feng pressed down on them.

The First Soul Ring shattered the moment it touched the ice needle.

Huang Huan, born in 920, Bloodthirsty Demon Wolf. He was the first Soul Beast he hunted.

A sharp pain surged from the depths of my soul, as if someone had ripped a piece of my flesh off.

Nan Feng's face turned deathly pale, and veins bulged on his forehead. He remained silent.

The Soul Ring shattered and was absorbed by the gatekeeper. The dark red light flashed for a moment, then dissipated.

The gatekeeper placed his other hand on his chest. Cold Spiritual Power poured in, leaving a mark on the surface of his soul.

Nan Feng's Soul Power fluctuated. His Soul Power dropped, stopping at exactly level 30.

The Fallen One's Mark suppressed one-tenth of the Soul Power.

"Within the Slaughter City, your killing is unrestrained by the rules." The gatekeeper withdrew his hand. "Your Soul Power has been suppressed by one-tenth. To undo this, there are only two paths: death, or traversing the Hell Road."

Nan Feng moved his right hand. A dark red mark appeared on his palm, shaped like a curled-up hand.

He sensed the Soul Power within his body, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly.

"Level 30 exactly," Old Huai said. "You sacrificed your first ring, and it was suppressed by another 10%. You're stuck at level 30, the pinnacle of Soul Grandmaster."

"Perfect," Nan Feng said. "Once we're inside, I need killing intent, not Soul Power Level."

The gatekeeper turned and walked into the darkness. Nan Feng followed. Blood and mud smacked underfoot.

An oil lamp hangs every few steps on the rock walls on both sides of the passage. The flame is a dim green and has no warmth.

There are carvings on the rock face. They are densely packed, thousands upon thousands of names. The bottom ones are already buried in blood and mud.

"The Soul Master who died in the Slaughter City," Old Huai said. "Everyone who came in had their name engraved here. Those who left alive had their names erased."

"What's left behind," Nan Feng continued, "Is for future generations to see."

The passage widened. The stench of blood was overwhelming, like walking into the throat of a giant beast.

The Nan Feng passes through an invisible membrane, and with each step it takes, that membrane tightens a little more.

He stepped out of the passage and onto a stone platform.

Slaughter City.

It was a city, a cage within a circular underground chamber. Several miles in diameter, with black stone buildings spiraling upwards along the rock walls.

Dim green lights dotted the street, illuminating the shadows of people moving about. Those people were hunched over.

Occasionally, someone would suddenly lunge forward, tackling those nearby to the ground. This was followed by tearing sounds and screams.

No one gathered around. The others walked around the pool of blood and continued on their way.

The moment they entered the city, their Soul Power trembled again. There was a force field in the air, suppressing the operation of all the Soul Master.

In addition to the Fallen One's Mark, there was also the suppression of the entire arena. With these two layers combined, his Soul Power was reduced to only level twenty-four or twenty-five.

"The rules of the Slaughter City suppress you," Old Huai said. "The stronger your Soul Power, the more it's suppressed. Primordial World Power isn't limited by Soul Power Level. The stronger the killing intent, the more violent the Primordial World Imprint's reaction."

Nan Feng stepped down from the stone platform and entered the street.

The stone slabs underfoot were covered in blood and slippery. The stone houses on both sides had no windows, only iron doors.

People on the street were staring at him.

"The new guy," someone said from the shadows.

"Looks young," another voice chimed in.

"There's no smell of blood on him; he's a virgin."

The Treasure-Appraising Spirit Light detected Soul Power fluctuations within a hundred paces, mostly ranging from Soul Ancestor to Soul King, with two or three Soul Emperor.

The strongest one is on the second floor of the stone house to the right front. Its aura is thick and gloomy, and it is at the peak of the Soul Emperor. It poses no threat for the time being.

"The Hell Slaughter Arena is right in the center of the city," Old Huai said. "To get the Tower Spirit Fragment, you must first pass the Hundred-Victory Trial, then challenge the Hell Road. What you need is on the third level of the Hell Road."

Yum! Brands?

"A hundred consecutive victories. Every match is a life-or-death struggle; the loser dies, the winner lives. There is no surrender; only two outcomes: standing or lying down."

Nan Feng turned the corner. Ahead was a circular plaza with a black stone building in the center, shaped like an inverted bowl, its surface engraved with runes.

There was a long queue at the entrance. The queue included beast Soul Master, necromancer Soul Master, and a few whose Martial Soul were not clearly discernible.

They reeked of blood, and their eyes were numb from years of slaughter.

Nan Feng walked to the back of the line and stopped. The people in front of him turned around to look at him.

"A new face. Is this your first time here?"

"Um."

"Everyone who comes here for the first time thinks they can get out alive." The man grinned. "My name is Tu San, Soul King, Seventeen Wins. Want me to teach you the rules?"

What are the rules?

"The rules of the Hell Slaughter Arena," Tu San held up one finger, "First, immediately unleash your Martial Soul upon entering. Hesitate for even a moment, and your opponent's blade will be at your throat. Second, trust no one. There are no allies inside, only the living and the dead."

"Third."

He leaned close to Nan Feng's ear.

"Third, your opponent is Tower Master; just concede and don't waste time."

Nan Feng was stunned. "The Tower Master?"

"You don't know?" Tu San narrowed his eyes. "The guy who came down from up there a while ago, codenamed Tower Master. His Martial Soul is a tower, his Soul Power isn't high, but he kills like a madman. Over thirty crushing victories, Soul Emperor were intimidated."

He's currently the most popular newcomer. Many want to climb over him to get ahead. Unfortunately—

Tu San pointed to the stone house in the center of the square.

"He's not here. He went to the third basement level to look for something and has been missing for half a month."

Nan Feng's heart skipped a beat.

What's that person's name?

Tu San shook his head. "Nobody knows his real name. Nobody uses their real name in the Slaughter City. He has a red ribbon tied around his left wrist, it's quite eye-catching."

The Nan Feng wind paused for a moment.

The red hairband on her left wrist. That was braided by Xiao Wu.

Nan Feng stood at the entrance. Tu San was still reciting the rules, but his mind had already drifted away.

The timing doesn't match. Xiao Wu should be at the Shrek Academy, Tang San was just taken away by Tang Hao. Xiao Wu's Martial Soul is the Soft Bone Rabbit, not a tower.

Who is that Tower Master? Why does he also have a Tower Martial Soul? And why does he wear a red hairband?

"Old Huai," Nan Feng thought to himself.

Old Huai remained silent for three seconds.

"Deep underground, there are Primordial World fluctuations. They originate from the same Primordial World Imprint as yours, but are weaker and more scattered, like remnants of fragments. That Tower Master..."

"It might be related to the Bronze Tower," Nan Feng chimed in.

The black stone door was tightly shut, with a dark red light seeping from the cracks. The line was shortening. Some went in, but no one came out.

Nan Feng touched the red ribbon on her left wrist.

Regardless of who the Tower Master is, he has to go in. There are Tower Spirit Fragment on the third underground level, and the Hundred-Victory Trial is the only way in.

"Kid," Tu San patted him on the shoulder, "It's your turn."

The stone door opened. A dark red light poured out, carrying with it the smell of rust.

Hell Slaughter Arena.

The stone gate closed behind them. Countless eyes lit up in the darkness. The stands were filled with spectators, the fallen, sinners, and madmen. They sat on the stone steps awaiting the flesh-and-blood sacrifice.

A dim red light shone down from the center of the arena, illuminating the circular yellow sand surface. The sand was soaked with blood.

Nan Feng walked to the center of the arena and stood still. The Primordial World Imprint trembled under the killing intent.

"Newcomer—" someone in the stands called out in a drawn-out voice, "Announce your code number!"

The dim red light shone on his face.

He thought of Tu San.

"Tower Master."

A spectator in the front row stood up and crushed the flesh and bones in his hand.