Qian Renxue had used her ability to magnify Bibi Dong anger into something far more violent and uncontrollable.
Had her mind been clear, she might have sensed the distortion.
Her disciple's lifeless face lingered in her thoughts, again and again, like a wound that refused to close. Reason had long since drowned beneath that grief.
'Clear Sky Clan…'
Her grip on the scythe tightened.
With the power she now possessed—having stepped into the realm of a Wild God—she no longer saw the need for caution, nor did she think of mobilizing the Angel Corps or consulting others. In her mind, there was only one simple conclusion.
She alone was enough.
The scythe in her hand trembled lightly as an immense surge of violet divine aura gathered along its curved blade. The surrounding space distorted under its weight, as if reality itself could not bear the power being condensed.
Then, in a voice that was almost gentle—yet carried the inevitability of death—she spoke.
"Corrosion Slash."
A crescent of deep purple light tore through the sky, expanding as it descended. It did not roar or explode like ordinary attacks. Instead, it advanced in silence, erasing everything in its path—the air, the light, even the faint echoes of sound.
The mountain peaks trembled.
The ancestral buildings of the Clear Sky Clan, which had stood firm for generations, seemed fragile before that descending arc.
However, just as the violet arc of destruction was about to descend upon the ancestral buildings of the Clear Sky Clan, another aura erupted from within the clan grounds.
It rose like a tide of blood and iron—vast, ancient, and filled with an unyielding will.
Whish—
A crimson slash surged upward from the depths of the mountains, carrying an overwhelming killing intent that seemed to tear through the very air. The two attacks collided mid-sky, violet and red devouring one another in a violent clash.
For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the sky was split between corruption and slaughter.
"Hmm?"
Bibi Dong narrowed her eyes slightly, a trace of surprise breaking through the storm of rage in her heart.
From within the clan, a figure slowly emerged.
He stepped forward without haste, yet every step seemed to weigh upon the world itself. In his hand was a massive crimson sword, its blade emanating a dense aura of slaughter that rivaled the remnants of the dissipated clash.
When Bibi Dong's gaze fell upon him, her expression finally shifted.
"Slaughter King…?" she said, her tone tinged with disbelief. "You are in cahoots with the Clear Sky Clan?"
The man did not immediately answer. He merely rose into the air, stopping at a distance that neither provoked nor retreated, his presence steady like a mountain drenched in bloodshed.
Bibi Dong's eyes sharpened as she assessed him.
She knew of the Slaughter King from her time within Slaughter City—a being who stands at the pinnacle of mortal power, a level 99 Ultimate Douluo.
However, the ease with which he had neutralized her attack was… unsettling. A mere level 99 should not have been able to erase that strike so effortlessly.
'He is not simple,' she concluded inwardly.
At last, the man spoke, his voice deep and steady,.
"My true name is Tang Chen," he said. "The title of Slaughter King was never mine by choice. In Slaughter City, I suffered an unfortunate incident—I was parasitized by a hundred-thousand-year soul beast, the Blood Red Nine-Headed Bat King."
"But now," he continued calmly, "I have freed myself from its influence."
Bibi Dong raised an eyebrow slightly.
There were too many gaps in his explanation, too many unanswered questions. But at this moment, none of them mattered.
Her grip tightened on the scythe as she looked at him coldly.
"Should I care about that?" she replied indifferently.
Tang Chen stared at her steadily, his crimson blade humming faintly in his grasp. The aura around him did not flare recklessly; instead, it condensed inward, like a coiled storm waiting to erupt.
"I am the Clan Leader of the Clear Sky Clan," he said, his voice calm yet carrying undeniable authority. "And your attack just now was clearly meant to kill."
His gaze sharpened slightly as it rested upon her papal robes.
"From your attire, you must be the Pope of Spirit Hall—Bibi Dong. But that does not give you the right to act so domineering."
There was no anger in his tone, only a firm declaration of stance, as if he were laying down an unshakable boundary.
"I have heard of the conflicts that have taken place across the continent in recent years," Tang Chen continued. "However, considering my past friendship with Qian Daoliu, your High Priest, I am willing to clarify matters with him first before things escalate further."
Though his expression remained composed, his thoughts were far from calm.
The brief clash just now had told him more than enough.
His hands, hidden beneath the sleeve, still carried a faint numbness—the aftereffect of countering her strike with divine energy borrowed from the Asura. That single exchange had already revealed a terrifying truth: this woman's strength was no longer within the realm of ordinary Titled Douluos.
'If that strike had been even slightly stronger…' Tang Chen's eyes flickered imperceptibly.