On this day, a newcomer arrived at the Hell Arena of Slaughter City.
And from this day forward, a new Killing God began to rise.
In just one short month, Chen Feng had already claimed eleven victories in the Hell Arena.
At a pace of one win every three days, he shattered the fastest victory record in the history of the Hell Arena.
But this was only the beginning.
Eleven months later.
The chilling aura of bloodlust was suffocating.
Nine mangled corpses lay scattered across the arena, torn to pieces.
Chen Feng stood tall, his Seven Kill Sword in hand, his body soaked in the blood of his fallen foes.
In just eleven months, he had achieved what others couldn't in a lifetime—a hundred consecutive victories.
In Slaughter City, every participant dreamed of this milestone.
With it came the title of Hell Arena Champion and the right to remain in the city permanently.
While leaving the city was forbidden, a hundred wins earned one immense status—absolute authority within the city, and even the chance to serve as a guest minister to the Slaughter King himself.
In truth, the Slaughter King had already sent multiple envoys to speak with Chen Feng, offering him such honors.
But every time, Chen Feng rejected them, coldly and without hesitation.
Compared to when he first arrived, his aura had become even darker—colder, more bloodthirsty.
There was a terrifying quality in his gaze. A mere glance was enough to make one feel as if they had glimpsed a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
The residents of Slaughter City had given him a nickname:
The Seven Kill Asura.
Inside the gloomy great hall of Slaughter City, red and black carpets sprawled across the floor like rivers of blood.
Atop an icy throne inlaid with purple and blue crystals, a tall figure sat motionless.
The shadows obscured his features, but his silhouette revealed a lean and slender frame.
"My King," a cold female voice echoed, "the Seven Kill Asura has completed his hundred victories in the Hell Arena. Shall we now allow him to enter the Hell Road?"
The Slaughter King remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a deep voice:
"What do you think we should do?"
"His strength is formidable," the voice replied. "We should try to keep him here, have him serve you."
The Slaughter King rubbed his temples, as though the thought gave him a headache.
"I considered that… but every time I see him, I feel… uncomfortable.
Whenever I sense his aura, even my Demonic Sword grows restless.
I don't know why. I just feel an instinctive urge to reject him."
"He affects even you?" the woman asked, clearly surprised. "If that's the case, then even with his champion status, we should eliminate him immediately."
"No," the Slaughter King said, slamming his hand down. "Let him go."
He leaned back slightly, recalling Chen Feng's presence.
That unshakable sense of dread had taken root.
And he couldn't explain it.
Even the Titled Douluo were no match for him here in Slaughter City.
Yet this one young man filled him with an almost primal fear.
He had once thought about killing Chen Feng.
But every time he considered it, that unsettling feeling only intensified.
Rather than risk it… It was better to let him leave.
BOOM!
The Slaughter King waved his hand, and a torrent of crimson liquid surged from beneath the throne.
A massive blood pool was hidden there all along.
Opening his mouth, the Slaughter King drank deeply, revealing two sharp fangs that gleamed with menace.
In a small chamber, Chen Feng slowly finished his meditation, his eyes flickering with dark light.
He was currently cultivating his spiritual power.
Even someone like him—whose mental strength far exceeded that of others—could feel the corruptive pressure of Slaughter City.
More than once, he had felt an itch in his soul, an irresistible urge to sip a Bloody Mary.
But he knew the truth.
That drink was poison—not in the usual sense, but an addictive, irreversible toxin.
Even soul masters would be slowly destroyed by it.
A slow death that left nothing but madness in its wake.
Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, someone came from the door.
In an instant, Chen Feng's killing intent surged.
The entire room froze over with murderous energy, and a bloody aura rolled off him in waves.
"Who is it?" he asked coldly.
"It's me, honorable Seven Kill Asura."
The voice was familiar—the veiled woman who had guided him since his arrival.
She had long since become his designated liaison, handling all communication from the city to him.
"Honorable Seven Kill Asura, you've now completed your hundred victories.
According to the rules, you may now begin your trial on the Hell Road."
Chen Feng nodded.
"Arrange it. I'll go."
"Yes, right away."
But then, something shifted in her demeanor.
She approached with seductive elegance, her steps slow and alluring.
Eventually, she leaned against Chen Feng's body, her movements soft and suggestive.
Though there was a layer of gauze between them, her eyes burned with heat.
"Have you considered staying?
Here, you could have wealth, power… and of course, me."
As she spoke, her thin veil slid from her body, revealing a figure as tempting as sin.
But Chen Feng's body remained rigid—his aura icy and cold.
He glanced at her indifferently.
"I don't care who sent you.
But if you don't leave right now, I will kill you."
A wave of pure killing intent burst from his body, and the veiled woman shuddered uncontrollably.
She hastily wrapped herself again and bowed low.
"I understand… I'll handle the arrangements.
When would you like to begin the Hell Road trial?"
"Tomorrow," Chen Feng said coldly.
The woman hesitated briefly, but said nothing more and left silently.
She didn't understand why Chen Feng was so eager to leave Slaughter City.
After all, attempting the Hell Road didn't guarantee escape—
It was a one-way path to death.
Very few had ever survived it.
But for Chen Feng, it wasn't about desperation.
The truth was—his one-year promise was coming due.
The Continental Advanced Elite Soul Master Tournament was about to begin.
That was the second trial of the Asura God.
And more importantly, his six teammates and one disciple were still waiting for him.
The next day.
The atmosphere inside the Hell Arena reached its peak.
A blood-red figure slowly descended from the sky—
The Slaughter King had arrived.
"Slaughter King… Slaughter King!"
The fallen roared until their voices were hoarse, their frenzy unrelenting.
And Chen Feng stepped forward.
His heart remained steady, but his eyes were sharp as blades.
He lifted his head and gazed at the red silhouette in the sky above.