In the stifling darkness of the deep mines, searchlight beams acted like pale, clinical scalpels, repeatedly slicing through the stagnant air of the refuse yard.
"The target is nearby. His breathing is erratic, and his aura is a mess—he must be suffering from severe internal trauma." Lin Xiu came to a halt, the violet crosshairs in his prosthetic eye twitching frantically. He could smell it—the metallic, ozone-heavy scent of Imperial Gold blood beginning to curdle. To him, it was the most exquisite fragrance in the world.
"Squad Three to the left, Squad Six to the right. Activate the Order-Interference Emitters. I want him blind, deaf, and paralyzed in this darkness."
However, Lin Xiu failed to realize that in this "Trash Mountain" at the bottom of hell, every stack of mineral slag and every jagged crevice had been deliberately arranged by the blind old man over three thousand years. This wasn't just a junkyard; it was a natural [Dark Order Labyrinth] designed to refract perception and swallow sound.
Gu Hanzhou lay flat in the narrow gap between two massive lead plates, his body burning like a branding iron. The dark-red ore in his left shoulder had completely dissolved, transforming into a network of hideous, glowing veins that snaked through his circulatory system.
"The Blood-Melt... is incomplete. But the killing intent I feel now... it's enough."
Gu Hanzhou opened his eyes in the dark. His pupils had constricted into vertical slits—the predatory gaze of an apex hunter. He didn't engage in a head-on clash. Instead, utilizing the shifting footwork the old man had beaten into him, he slid silently into a narrow, slime-covered drainage trough.
Drip. Drop.
An Inquisition soldier crept toward the sound of dripping liquid, his rifle raised and locked. His Order-Radar was malfunctioning, spitting out strings of corrupted code as the local mineral magnetism interfered with the frequency.
"Damn it, the magnetic field down here is too—"
Before he could finish, the slag beneath his boots gave way like quicksand.
Gu Hanzhou's right hand, covered in glowing dark-gold cracks, erupted from beneath the rubble and clamped onto the soldier's ankle with the strength of a hydraulic press.
"Number one."
Gu Hanzhou's voice was a mere feather-light whisper, yet it sounded like a thunderclap in the soldier's ear. He yanked the man down into the dark pit, and the blade of [Black Order] followed in a fluid, silent arc.
SHLICK!
Blood sprayed, but not a single cry escaped. Gu Hanzhou had surgically severed the man's vocal cords before dragging the corpse deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels.
"Squad Six? Report! Squad Six, respond!" Lin Xiu barked into his comms, his voice sharp with mounting agitation.
The only response was a deathly, mocking silence.
Lin Xiu's prosthetic eye contracted. He realized something was fundamentally wrong. This wasteland had transformed into a living beast, slowly digesting his men one by one.
"Tighten the formation! Back-to-back! Deploy high-intensity flares!"
SHOO—BANG!
A magnesium flare streaked into the air, turning the square hundred meters into a world of blinding white light.
In that brief, artificial day, Lin Xiu finally saw him.
Gu Hanzhou was hanging upside down from a massive, rusted pipe. Due to the agony of the "Blood-Melt," beads of blood were seeping through his pores, coating his skin in a crimson sheen. His gaze was cold, calculated, and utterly feral. Beneath the torn fabric of his left shoulder, dark-red energy could be seen visibly stitching his shattered bones back together.
"Gu Hanzhou!" Lin Xiu roared, his longsword erupting with the brilliant, violet glow of the [Blood-Engraving Realm]. "You think hiding in a pile of garbage will save you from the Inquisition's judgment?"
"Lin Xiu, you've grown too reliant on that artificial eye."
Gu Hanzhou let out a low, chilling laugh. He didn't flee; instead, in the final second before the flare died out, he dropped from the pipe, plunging like a hawk into the three elite soldiers standing directly behind Lin Xiu.
He wasn't targeting Lin Xiu yet. He was slaughtering the subordinates to harvest their blood and shattered Order-energy. He was using their deaths to refine the turbulent, raw power currently rampaging through his veins!
[Dark Order · Hunting Domain]!
Gu Hanzhou landed, spun, and struck.
His movements lacked their former elegance; every inch the blade traveled felt heavy, viscous, and burdened by the gravity of the deep mines. Yet, it carried a raw, tectonic force that could pulverize stone.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Three metallic collisions rang out. The three soldiers, despite their heavy shields and reinforced armor, were cleaved open by the sheer, blunt-force violence of the strike.
"Your Order-Traces are too shallow, Lin Xiu."
Gu Hanzhou stepped onto a fresh corpse, allowing the hot blood to splash onto the scroll in his vest. At that moment, the [Consciousness Shackle] in his mind emitted a violent, deafening tremor.
With every life he took, his blood grew hotter. With every kill, a new crack appeared on the gate.
The blind old man's raspy cackle echoed from the shadows:
"Yes... just like that. Killing is not the goal; killing is the momentum! Use the resentment of the dying to batter down that door you cannot open!"
Lin Xiu looked at the dismembered remains of his elite squad, his body trembling with a mixture of fury and burgeoning terror. He realized that the boy in front of him wasn't fleeing—he was performing a ritual. A ritual of slaughter.
"I WILL KILL YOU!!"
Lin Xiu's sword ignited with violet Blood-Engraving flames. He moved like a bolt of lightning, his speed doubled by the three Order-Traces on his blade, as he swung with everything he had toward Gu Hanzhou's neck.
Gu Hanzhou simply stood his ground, slowly raising the chipped, blood-stained [Black Order].
His eyes held a terrifying, hollow stillness—a deathly silence that made even a Blood-Engraving master feel the cold touch of the grave.