First Battle Against Bone Blade · The Tower Master's Name
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Beneath the dark red dome, the yellow sand was soaked with blood.
Nan Feng stood in the center of the field, and the burly man opposite him emerged from the shadows. He was two and a half meters tall, with shoulders as broad as a low wall. His upper body was bare, and old scars were turning up, revealing dark red buds. His hands had transformed into two Bone Blade, the blades dripping with a grayish-green viscous liquid that eroded small pits into the yellow sand.
Soul Ring Configuration: White, Yellow, Purple, Purple. Four-Ring Soul Ancestor.
"New guy—" the burly man grinned, biting into bits of flesh between his yellow teeth, "Thirty consecutive wins. My name is Bone Blade. Remember this name; it's the last name you'll hear before you die."
The fallen in the stands had numb eyes. More spectators hid in the darkness, like vultures waiting for carrion.
Nan Feng didn't speak. He raised his right hand, and the rune of Tower Suppression - Initial in his palm lit up.
His Soul Ring were arranged quietly within his body. Purple, black. The first ring was empty, a price paid for the gatekeeper. The Fallen One's Mark suppressed one-tenth of his Soul Power, and with the suppression of the arena, his actual combat strength was only level twenty-four or twenty-five.
The opponent has a perfect record of thirty wins, and their skill level is vastly different. But the opponent thinks he's a newbie. That's the advantage.
"Begin." A dry voice rang out from the highest point of the stands.
The Bone Blade moved. The yellow sand beneath its feet exploded into a bloody mist, and the man pounced like a wild beast. The double blades crossed and slashed down, the venom drawing two arcs. Triple killing intent: cutting, corroding, and armor-piercing. Ruthless and fast.
The Nan Feng did not recede.
The Tower Realm unfolded when the twin blades were three feet from each other's faces. The Second Soul Ring skill, combined with the Gravity Field, pressed down. The Bone Blade's body sank in mid-air, like an eagle with its wings pinned down. The blades deviated. Nan Feng dodged to the side, a bloody scratch appearing on his right shoulder, while simultaneously closing in half a step.
Bone Spike.
The Ghost-Faced Spider King's 2,500-year-old Soul Bone Skill. A black thorn shot out from his left arm and pierced the Bone Blade's right rib. The Bone Blade groaned, its twin blades sweeping across and forcing Nan Feng back. He looked down at the wound, black blood gushing out.
"Your Soul Power fluctuations are off." Bone Blade stared at him. "Are you suppressing your true strength?"
Nan Feng stared at the Bone Blade's foot. The opponent retreated, leaving two dents, the one on the right foot being half an inch shallower. The right leg had an old injury, and the center of gravity was shifted to the left.
Tower Suppression · Mountain Suppression.
Nan Feng raised his hand, palm down, aimed at the yellow sand beneath the Bone Blade's feet. The Gravity Field increased dramatically, causing the sand to collapse. Caught off guard, the Bone Blade sank downwards, its twin blades instinctively digging into the ground to try and stabilize itself. Nan Feng was no longer in the same spot.
Twenty steps in one step. His figure blurred for a moment in the dim red light, and the next moment he was less than three feet away from the Bone Blade. The Bone Blade looked up, its pupils contracted sharply, and it could only block with the hilt of its blade.
Nan Feng's palm pressed against his chest.
Tower Suppression - Spirit Binding. Dozens of black threads burst from his palm, wrapping around his chest, neck, and arms. The threads tightened, draining the Soul Power from the Bone Blade. His face turned from flushed red to deathly pale within two breaths.
"Who exactly are you?" the voice was forced out through clenched teeth.
Nan Feng raised his left hand, and the phantom of the tower solidified into a physical form. The first floor of the nine-story bronze tower opened wide, unleashing the Power of Mountain Suppression. The tower slammed into Bone Blade's chest.
"Puff--"
The Bone Blade spat out a mouthful of black blood, flying away like a kite with a broken string, and crashed into the yellow sand ten paces away. The twin blades retracted into his palm, and all his Soul Ring went out. A section of his ribs caved in. He grabbed at the bloody sand a couple of times, then let his hand fall.
A fallen man in the front row leaned back, dropping a half-eaten bone to the ground.
Nan Feng withdrew the illusory image of the tower. The silk threads fell off, swallowed with dark red Soul Power. Blood seeped from the wound on his left shoulder. The Power of Creation seeping from the crack in the third-level door was repairing it.
"Tower Master, you win."
The dry voice sounded again, tinged with hesitation. Nan Feng ignored everyone on the stage, turned, and walked towards the exit. Her steps were steady. The red ribbon on her left wrist fluttered slightly under the light.
He took five steps and then stopped.
One gaze was different. It came from the deepest part of the shadows, like a scalpel dissecting his soul. Nan Feng didn't turn his head; he remembered the direction. Northeast corner, third tier of the stands.
There are a pair of golden eyes there.
Nan Feng returned to the rest area and carved his code name on the stone wall. "Tower Master" was carved among the densely packed names. Next to it was an earlier line of characters with deeper strokes.
"Tower Master."
The same line of text.
The engravings are very new, no more than two months old. The characters are thin, with the strokes ending in a leftward hook, indicating the writer is left-handed. A Nan Feng swept across the engravings, Treasure-Appraising Spirit Light seeped into the stone wall. A faint, Primordial World rhythm bounced back.
Nan Feng's pupils contracted. This fluctuation shared the same origin as the fragment of the Bronze Tower's Tower Spirit Fragment. The engravings retained the aura of Primordial World Power, weak but pure in nature, clearer than the underground fluctuations at the entrance.
"Old Huai."
"I sensed it." Old Huai's voice deepened. "That Tower Master carved the inscription, like you, possessed Primordial World Power. His aura, however, was much weaker, like fragments remaining within his soul."
"Who is he."
"I don't know. What I do know is that he's still alive. The aura within the markings hasn't dissipated, and his soul is still in the Slaughter City. Most likely, he's on the third underground level."
Nan Feng straightened up. Three underground levels: Tower Spirit Fragment, the Dark Gold Three-Headed Bat King, and that Tower Master. The gatekeeper had said there were only two ways to break the suppression: death, or passing through the Hell Road. He walked deeper. The stone walls were silent in the dark red light. His name was at the very top, the engraving gleaming with a faint golden light.
The stands are on the third tier, in the darkest part of the area.
Hu Liena withdrew her gaze, her nail-painted fingers tapping twice on the armrest. Two Spirit Hall knelt behind her, not daring to breathe. She narrowed her fox-like golden eyes.
"The Tower Master," she murmured the code name, "Is even more interesting than I expected. That power within her soul, even her master couldn't sense it. Slaughter City, it's become even more active."
She stood up. "Stare at him. Report every single one to me."
"Investigate the background of that previous Tower Master. He suddenly appeared a while ago, fought dozens of battles, and then disappeared. Now another one has emerged." Her voice lowered. "There must be a connection between these two Tower Master."
A voice answered from the darkness and then disappeared.
Hu Liena sat down again. The aura of Heaven Dou City had now followed him.
"What a coincidence." She smiled, a hint of interest flashing in her golden fox eyes. "Or is this all part of a game?"
A flash of dark golden light appeared in her palm. The curse mark of the Rakshasa God Seed, usually silent, throbbed slightly the moment Nan Feng released the Spirit Binding, as if in response.
Hu Liena clenched her fists, a complex expression swirling in her golden eyes. "Who exactly are you?" she asked, her voice barely audible, almost swallowed by the sandstorm, as she stared at the entrance to the passage where Nan Feng had disappeared.
Nan Feng walked out of the Hell Slaughter Arena and looked at the layers upon layers of stone houses. He still didn't know which direction the entrance to the third underground level was.
He glanced down at the red hair ribbon on his left wrist. It was braided by Xiao Wu, and the color had faded a bit from washing. She had braided it crookedly back then, and then angrily threw it at him. "Just make do with this, I'll braid a better one for you next time." Next time... He didn't know when he could go back.
Old Huai's voice rang out. "How much of your strength did you use in that battle just now?"
Nan Feng thought for a moment, "Seventy percent from the Tower Realm, full force from the Spirit Binding, and fifty percent from the Tower Body Smashing. Overall, about sixty percent."
"Six out of ten will win against Four-Ring Soul Ancestor," Old Huai said. "Not bad. But it won't just be Soul Ancestor coming up. The opponents get stronger as the series progresses; there will be Soul Emperor Soul Saint."
"I know." Nan Feng walked down the steps, the yellow sand crunching under his feet. The Primordial World Imprint, soaked in killing intent, remained active, reacting more than twice as fast as it had in Heaven Dou City.
"The next match is in three days," Old Huai said. "You can try to find the entrance in the days in between, but I suggest you rest first. The Soul Power of the mark is also consuming your stamina."
Nan Feng turned into the alleyway, the iron gates on both sides tightly closed. He would find the entrance to the third underground level sooner or later. When similar auras approach each other, the imprints will resonate.
Nan Feng found an empty stone house and pushed the door open. Inside, there was a stone bed and a few dry, hard flatbreads piled in the corner. He closed the door, sat cross-legged, and sank his consciousness into the space inside the tower.
The third layer of the door widened slightly. He poured the devoured Soul Power into the tower, Power of Devouring of the second layer was stripped away and purified. The remaining pure Soul Power was absorbed by the tower.
The dark gold patterns on the tower's body lit up for a fleeting moment.
Nan Feng opened her eyes. The mark was still there, and her body was adjusting.
"Three days." Nan Feng closed his eyes. "The second show in three days."
He needs a hundred victories to be qualified to challenge the Hell Road and obtain the Tower Spirit Fragment. The curse mark within Hu Liena's body pulsed when he released the Spirit Binding; the Primordial World Power naturally restrains the Rakshasa Curse.
"This game is getting more and more complicated," Old Huai muttered.
Nan Feng closed his eyes. A sliver of cold light shone through the cracks in the window from the dim green lamplight. Screams echoed in the distance. The nights in this Slaughter City were never peaceful.
Nan Feng didn't care. Three days later, the second battle. That code name was already engraved on the stone wall, and a faint golden light shone in the darkness from within the engraving.
Wait for him.