Within the rolling mist of blood—
Li Zhexian moved like a startled dragon, a soaring swan.
With every flicker of swordlight, a dozen lives withered away.
The blood beneath his boots rose past his soles—thick, clinging, dragging at every step.
His black robe, long drenched, hung heavy with countless men's blood.
He swung his sword—
and the blood mist split apart with the strike.
Li Zhexian's mind was utterly blank.
Only the obsession to hone the Sword of Killing Intent drove his instincts. The blade sliced through limbs that were weak as paper, their Spirit Power having dried up.
Weapons raised in defense? Futile! Knives, spears, and halberds shattered inch by inch amidst the screams!
Heads spun into the air, and fountains of blood gushed several meters high!
"Blood Slaughter Sword, you've become a demon! Even the Slaughter City won't tolerate you!"
"The Enforcers will cut you down, monster!"
"Trapping and slaughtering three thousand people! Blood Slaughter Sword, how dare you!"
"Let me leave! I was only passing by!"
Li Zhexian ignored these frenzied shouts.
The once-azure-gold sword intent of the Qinglian Sword
was now soaked layer upon layer in blood.
Along the spine of the blade,
a sinister dark-red vein pulsed—like a living thing.
Five hundred had already fallen.
The valley was a field of corpses and scattered limbs.
The fugitives' madness gave way to terror;
their curses turned to cries:
"Let me go, Blood Slaughter Sword! Please let me go!"
"I'll serve you! I'll be your slave—just spare me!"
"I don't want the treasure anymore!"
"Mercy! Have mercy!"
Li Zhexian remained utterly deaf.
His sword moved by instinct alone.
His figure flickered in and out of the crimson mist,
leaving behind trails of blood-tinted afterimages.
The dark-red veins spread like a web across the blade,
covering nearly all of it,
squeezing what little azure-gold sword intent remained to the hilt's edge.
Wherever the blade passed,
the air itself seemed sliced apart by invisible threads of blood,
leaving lingering crimson scars.
The sword hilt pulsed cold against his palm—
and a faint gleam stirred within his numb eyes.
He walked upon the stacked mountains of corpses. Everything in his sight was crimson.
"A mountain of corpses, a sea of blood…
Is this how the Sword of Killing Intent is born?"
His breath came heavy.
The stench of blood seared through his lungs.
Shhhk!
Another arc of scarlet swept through the mist.
But Li Zhexian suddenly shook his head.
Droplets of blood flew from his hair, scattering through the air.
Behind that blood-matted fringe,
his eyes shone suddenly bright as twin stars.
"No."
"This is not Sword Intent! This is the accumulation of murderous aura, clinging to the sword and invading the spirit!"
"It is like a craftsman who holds a sharp tool for a long time and grows calluses on his palm!"
"It's not that a blade grows from the palm…
but that the blade has changed the hand!"
"The sharper the sword, the fiercer the aura!"
"But this ferocity is external, not born within."
"I am still the one who wields the sword—
not the sword's slave."
"This is not yet the Sword of Killing Intent!"
A thread of understanding rose within him—
but the slaughter did not cease.
To reach true transformation, one must first reach the limit.
Li Zhexian steadied his breath and stance.
Each swing of his sword—
was more refined,
as venomous as a serpent's tongue,
as precise as a butcher's knife through sinew.
Every motion sought only the most vital point.
He was perfecting the art of killing—
like a master craftsman polishing a blade to its absolute edge.
The screams around him had turned hoarse,
a hellish chorus that chilled the bone.
To prevent their escape,
Li Zhexian fought his way from the bottom of the valley to the entrance, and then began killing them from the outside in. This was like catching a turtle in a jar.
The great slaughter continued. Less than half of the massive three thousand remained.
Within the valley,
the earth itself had turned crimson.
The stench of blood was so thick it was suffocating.
Corpses piled upon corpses—
forming small mountains of flesh.
And buried within those heaps of death,
the faces of the fallen froze in twisted horror,
their final expressions locked in despair.
The scene before them was beyond words—
Even hell itself could scarcely be more terrible.
Qian Renxue stared at Li Zhexian, whose entire body dripped with thick, dark blood.
Her slender hand, gripping the Holy Light Sword, lifted several times—
but each time, she clenched her teeth and forced it down again.
Li Zhexian had told her beforehand…
"Today, I seek to comprehend the sword."
He had forbidden her to intervene—
told her only to stand guard by his side.
Now, watching the youth's back—
that lone figure emerging from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood—
Qian Renxue's gaze trembled violently.
Pity, admiration, reverence—all tangled together…
but not a trace of fear.
...
Outside the valley—
those who had arrived too late stood petrified,
their hearts pounding as they gazed upon the blood-soaked abyss before them.
They were terrified—
and yet secretly grateful for their tardiness.
Deep within the blood mist, the youth's figure seemed blurred by the viscous crimson.
Only streaks of scarlet sword light flickered in and out of the fog. Lives fell in swathes, like cut grass.
"A monster… a true fiend! The Slaughter City has birthed a demon!"
"To kill so many—does he not fear divine wrath?!"
Even hardened killers trembled,
stumbling and crawling to escape the cursed valley.
To make such men speak of heaven's punishment—
spoke enough of the terror wrought by that one sword.
...
On a distant cliff,
Tang San's face had turned pale.
The dread in his eyes was thick enough to cut.
Three thousand lives—!
Even if they were three thousand beasts,
such slaughter would wrench the heart.
Even Tang San,
disciple of the Tang Sect who often spoke lightly of death,
felt as though he had fallen into an icy tomb.
"How… how could such a butcher exist in this world…"
At this moment,
his fear of the Blood Slaughter Sword reached its peak.
The last time he had felt this kind of dread—
it had been because of Li Zhexian himself.
Hu Liena let out a slow, trembling breath.
The Slaughter City was already bone-chillingly cold,
yet as she watched that figure who had slain three thousand,
it felt as if even her blood had frozen.
Her face turned deathly pale.
"If the Blood Slaughter Sword survives Hell Road and returns to Douluo Continent…"
"He will become another Li Zhexian."
...
The last thousand fugitives were on the verge of collapse.
Some slumped to the ground,
others bared their teeth, charging like trapped beasts.
Though their Spirit Power was gone,
their bodies and killing techniques remained.
Three skilled fighters managed to wound Li Zhexian together—
an arrow lodged in his shoulder,
a gash running from chest to waist.
But those three perished in a single stroke.
Shhh—
Crunch—
The broken bones beneath his feet crunched like shattered pottery.
Entrails hung from the rocks,
dripping bile and blood.
He had slaughtered over two thousand.
And in that endless deluge of blood,
the seed of Killing Sword Intent within his heart—
finally began to sprout.
"Let the bones be the steps, and the blood edge my blade."
"A thousand decapitations, a thousand severed souls."
"Where the sword points—
it cuts not flesh, but the boundary between life and death."
"Break that veil—
and all returns to silence."
"This rhythm… this resonance of slaughter…"
"I think… I begin to understand."
A glimmer of enlightenment stirred in his heart.
The gate of Killing Sword Intent—
was finally cracked open.
...
Above the valley,
the Forgetful River Blood Resentment Fragrance absorbed every phantom wail.
Wisps of thick, red mist rose skyward,
twisting, merging—
From afar, it looked like a crimson shroud
draped across the heavens,
sealing the entire valley inside.
Like a vast, inverted bowl of blood—
cutting off the mortal world.
The sight was terrifying beyond measure.
And within the vessel floating overhead,
the murky crimson liquid slowly purified—
its dregs dissolving,
its hue deepening,
turning ever more radiant and translucent…