At that moment, a large expanse of red mist suddenly appeared before Ignaz.
"Clop, clop, clop—"
Heavy hoofbeats echoed as a knight in black skull armor, wielding a knight's sword, sat atop his horse. Looking at Ignaz, who had broken the rules, he said sternly,
"You outsider who has violated the rules of Slaughter City, I am called Swicott. Only by defeating me can you earn the qualification to enter Slaughter City. Failure means death."
"Then I'll grant your wish."
Ignaz's Blood Thunder War Spear emerged as he charged toward Scott ahead.
The war horse neighed as Swicott swung his knight's sword, spurring his mount to charge head-on.
"Bang—"
The two clashed in an instant, the tremendous spirit power fluctuation nearly causing the surrounding guard soldiers to fall to their knees. As the spirit power waves dissipated, the war horse collapsed dead, while Swicott sat paralyzed on the ground, his face full of terror.
Swicott threw a white token toward Ignaz.
"You've passed. This is your only identification number in Slaughter City."
Ignaz grasped the token in his hand and flipped it over to examine the back, where some numbers were clearly engraved: 16258.
"So this is my code number, or does Slaughter City already have 16,258 fallen Spirit Masters?"
As he walked into Slaughter City, the great gates slowly opened from within, and another wave of red blood mist rushed toward him.
"Thud, thud, thud—"
A woman with a curvaceous figure, dark lips, and dressed in form-fitting black clothing adorned with thorny roses, slowly emerged from the blood mist.
"Welcome to Slaughter City. I am your guide. Anything you wish to know about Slaughter City, I can answer for you."
The two strolled through the streets of Slaughter City, where fallen ones around the streets watched the newly arrived Ignaz with wary eyes. However, due to the hell messenger beside him, the surrounding fallen Spirit Masters dared not attack him.
At this moment, Ignaz looked at the fallen ones around him with a kind of sinister disappointment and asked the guide beside him,
"What are the rules of Slaughter City?"
The guide noticed for the first time the evil smile that appeared on Ignaz's face, as if he weren't an outsider but originally belonged among Slaughter City's fallen ones.
"Slaughter City is a domain left behind by a god-level powerhouse. Currently, there is only one master here—the King of Slaughter. There are no rules within Slaughter City. To survive, you must win once in Hell's Slaughterhouse to live here for one year.
Where we are now is Slaughter City's outer city, which houses the losers from the arena. They must pay two cups of Bloody Mary each month to receive the King of Slaughter's protection, preventing them from being devoured by bats, crows, and wild beasts. The inner city is where there are truly no rules..."
As she spoke, the hell messenger looked up toward the inner city gates ahead, growing increasingly confident.
Ignaz found this detailed explanation quite satisfactory and then asked two somewhat arrogant questions:
"How many fallen Spirit Masters are there in Slaughter City now?"
"Are there any Titled Douluo-level fallen Spirit Masters among them?"
The hell messenger glanced at Ignaz, chuckled softly, then patiently explained,
"Your number represents the total population of Slaughter City. As for—"
Before the hell messenger could finish, two fallen ones on the street beside them were directly blasted to death, their bodies shattered, while the victor was overjoyed, the red killing intent in his eyes deepening several shades.
More shamefully, several fallen ones jointly severely injured a female Spirit Master, then removed their pants to assault her...
"What a pity, two more have died. Now there are only 16,256 fallen Spirit Masters."
The hell messenger had become numb to these current conditions in Slaughter City. She continued,
"As for the Titled Douluo-level fallen ones you mentioned, aside from the King of Slaughter, there won't be a second Titled Douluo in all of Slaughter City. There are 20 Spirit Douluo-level fallen ones, but they are all constant victors in the slaughter arena.
Don't be too ambitious. Think carefully about how to survive in the coming days. This is a world where might makes right."
"Take me to Hell's Slaughterhouse!"
The hell messenger looked at the incredibly arrogant Ignaz before her with surprise, confirming once more,
"I've already explained everything clearly to you before. Are you certain you want to go there now?"
"I'm certain. Take me there."
Ignaz's eyes were filled with anticipation and endless greed.
In decades of service, this was the first time the hell messenger had attended to such a death-seeking Spirit Master. Since he wanted to go, there was no need for further persuasion.
Someone who hadn't yet familiarized themselves with or adapted to Slaughter City's rules would only be seeking death by going to Hell's Slaughterhouse.
Before long, the two arrived at Hell's Slaughterhouse in the center of the inner city. As soon as Ignaz entered,
He noticed the strange looks from numerous fallen ones. Their gazes seemed to view him as a loser, yet he delivered them victory records.
Ignaz paid no attention to everyone's stares. These people would ultimately become souls fallen beneath his spear—it was only a matter of dying sooner or later.
"I want to register."
The registration personnel beside them glanced at the hell messenger, immediately returning their attention to the console, even registering faster than usual.
Within two minutes, amid the cheers and shouts of numerous spectators, the previous match concluded perfectly, with the victor being a Spirit King-level powerhouse.
"Let us welcome the next group of slaughterers to the stage!"
As the announcer's call ended, nine fallen Spirit Masters who had already registered for this soul fighting match leaped from the stands, racing along nine chains at high speed to reach the slaughter arena.
"In this match, I must be the victor!"
"I'm going to kill you all and show the King of Slaughter my valor!"
...
At this moment, Ignaz leaped down from the stands, both hands gripping his long spear, carrying it horizontally across his back shoulder as he looked at the nine fallen Spirit Masters present, his eyes full of disdain.
"Well, well, this is that newcomer from earlier. If I kill him, the Bloody Mary made from his blood will surely taste incredible."
"Right, kill him first, then we'll deal with what comes after."
...
The nine fallen Spirit Masters, now united in their common goal, quickly summoned their martial spirits and charged toward Ignaz first.
"Without spirit skills, you're all too slow."
"Puchi—"
Ignaz's figure moved at high speed. He targeted his prey and thrust his spear, piercing through three fallen Spirit Masters with only Spirit Ancestor strength in succession. All three died instantly.
Ignaz flipped and leaped, taking advantage of their delayed reaction, kicking backward with both legs. Two fallen Spirit Masters flew backward, their chests shattered. Then Ignaz firmly grasped the heads of the two remaining Spirit Masters ahead.
"Ahh—"
Before their screams of pain could even sound, Ignaz forcefully crashed his hands together. The two fallen Spirit Masters' skulls cracked and shattered, dying instantly as two headless corpses fell to the ground.