Of the three thousand fugitives, not one in ten remained alive.
Only a scattered hundred or so still lived—
howling in despair, their voices raw and broken.
Within the valley,
the cries and curses slowly faded,
leaving only the drip… drip… of blood
and the mournful wail of the wind.
Li Zhexian stood alone amid the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.
The Qinglian Sword in his hand had turned completely crimson.
From its tip,
a single bead of blood hung and fell.
Before him,
only one man still drew breath—
an old, one-eyed cripple with a face ruined beyond recognition,
collapsed in the blood like a dying hound.
Li Zhexian knew of him.
Old Scarface, a name whispered in the inner city's eastern district—
a legend of sorts.
Thud!
Old Scarface propped himself on one arm, dragging his crippled leg, and fell to his knees in the mire of blood.
He kowtowed again and again,
his forehead bursting open, splattering scarlet drops.
"Spare me…
Blood Slaughter Sword… I beg you… spare my life…"
That ghastly face could no longer show emotion,
but in his single eye flickered desperate pleading.
His trembling hand fumbled into his blood-stained robe
and drew out a splintered wooden plaque ,
its surface smeared with dried red.
On it was a crude carving of a little girl,
her hair tied in small horn braids, eyes shy and innocent.
"My daughter…
when I came to the Slaughter City… she was only five…
I—I want to go back… find my daughter…"
The old man's voice was slurred, broken by his frantic bowing.
His mangled frame shook violently with each desperate plea.
Li Zhexian's hand froze mid-strike—
the sword's tip hovered three inches above the man's head,
its crimson light wavering slightly.
His gaze drifted—
almost unconsciously—
to the blood-stained wooden plaque
And in that instant—
The pleading in Old Scarface's lone eye vanished,
replaced by a flash of venomous madness.
From beneath the blood-soaked mud,
a skeletal hand shot out,
fingers flicking a blue-gleaming poison dart straight for Li Zhexian's chest.
"Die—!"
Thuck—!
The dart struck flesh.
A chilling pain burst through his chest.
Li Zhexian's brow tightened;
his fingers blurred in motion,
snapping down like iron pincers around the old man's wrist.
"Be careful!"
Qian Renxue's face drained of color.
Her six Angel Wings flared open in fury,
sending a storm of blood crashing into the sky.
She became a streak of golden light,
racing toward Li Zhexian without hesitation.
...
Far outside the valley, hundreds of meters away,
Tang San, Hu Liena, and the others stiffened in shock.
"The Blood Slaughter Sword—
the man who killed three thousand—
is about to fall to a rat in the gutter?!"
Li Zhexian stared coldly at the old man's ruined face—
at that grotesque grin twisting upward with the thrill of betrayal.
Warm blood flowed freely from his chest wound,
trickling down in steady drops—
drop by drop—
falling onto the Qinglian Sword.
In that moment,
all the emotion pent up within his chest—
rage, grief, resolve—
was pierced clean through
by a single, pure killing intent that rose from his very soul.
The blood-born miasma surrounding him
was ignited by the surge of murderous will within.
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
Crimson flames burst from Li Zhexian's body,
his blood-drenched hair whipping upward like tongues of fire.
His expression remained cold, almost serene.
But in his eyes—now glowing red—
a flash of enlightenment stirred.
"Killing intent… must be born from within."
"Killing intent… is the utter annihilation
of that last shred of humanity buried in one's heart."
"The Sword of Killing Intent…
is the instant of realization at the end of all things.
Wherever its qi extends—it drinks blood, and devours souls."
"Three thousand heads offered to forge the night's sword cry,
one thought of Asura turning blood to iron."
"Qinglian Sword Song, Sixth Form—"
"Blood Pagoda."
"Complete."
And in that instant,
a surge of frozen sword intent erupted from Li Zhexian's body,
sweeping across the valley like a storm.
The sword intent swept across the mountains of corpses and the sea of blood.
The boiling pools of gore froze solid in an instant—smooth as mirrors—
then, without a sound, were erased by invisible sword qi,
leaving only churned black-red mud beneath.
Qian Renxue, who had been charging forward, suddenly saw a crimson brilliance explode before her eyes.
Her body froze midair.
A heartbeat later,
she was thrown backward by the sheer pressure of that icy sword intent.
Even though the killing intent was not directed at her,
the hand holding her Holy Light Sword still trembled uncontrollably.
Her golden eyes widened in shock
as she stared at Li Zhexian—
his entire body wreathed in blood-red flame,
his hair and clothes whipping wildly in the storm of his own power.
"You…"
Old Scarface's courage shattered completely.
With a strangled cry, he tried to turn and flee.
But the moment he moved—
A single crimson line, condensed from pure killing sword intent,
swept silently across his neck.
Old Scarface froze where he stood.
The crimson line, still surging forward with unchecked force,
shot past his body and streaked soundlessly toward the entrance of the valley.
The near-invisible crimson line sliced through the stone gate—
and the two stone pillars, each dozens of meters tall,
tilted slowly along a perfectly smooth cut
and collapsed with a thunderous crash.
...
Outside the valley,
everything along the crimson line's path—
boulders, ancient trees, columns of rock—
all split apart in eerie silence.
Hundreds of meters away,
the fugitives who had arrived late turned pale as ghosts.
"Run! Run—"
Before the words could leave their lips,
all one hundred of them were silently cut clean in half.
...
On the distant cliff,
Tang San and Hu Liena's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Horror surged through both of them.
Without another thought,
they each unleashed their abilities, turning into streaks of light
that fled madly into the distance.
Tang San clenched his fists until his knuckles went white.
"On the Douluo Continent, there is Li Zhexian."
"In the Slaughter City, there is the Blood Slaughter Sword."
"Why must I always cross paths with such monsters?!"
"I followed him here—does that mean he'll bear a grudge against me now…?"
Hu Liena's delicate brows twitched violently; she bit her lip and muttered:
"The Blood-Slaughter Sword is even more terrifying than Li Zhexian!"
"If I could win this man to my side,
why would we ever need to fear Li Zhexian?"
"But why—why is Qian Renxue helping him?"
"I must find out!"
——
Within the valley—
Corpses littered the ground; blood ran so thick that it could float a spear.
Aside from Li Zhexian and Qian Renxue,
not a single living soul remained.
Above them,
the Forgetful River Blood Resentment Fragrance flared—
and in the instant he comprehended the Sword of Killing Intent,
it glowed with a strange yet pure crimson radiance.
A rich, intoxicating fragrance of wine—
blended with the faint tang of blood—
swept across the entire valley.
The blood flames cloaking Li Zhexian's body slowly died away.
His wild hair and tattered robes settled down again.
He stepped through the thick, sticky mire of blood
and approached Old Scarface's corpse.
A faint breath of sword qi flickered from his blade,
rolling the body over.
In the dead man's rigid fingers
was still clenched that bloodstained wooden plaque.
Li Zhexian bent down,
pulled the plaque free.
The blood had seeped deep into the wood,
but the carving remained—
a little girl with horned braids,
smiling shyly.
He tucked the plaque away,
then straightened.
Qian Renxue stumbled toward him,
her shoes and skirt caked with mud and blood,
but she didn't care in the slightest.
She stopped before him, her eyes trembling,
her voice breaking with a sob she didn't even realize she made.
"Li Zhexian… you…"
Li Zhexian's face, still smeared with blood and dirt,
suddenly curved into a smile, revealing his white teeth.
"Xue'er, the wine is brewed, and the sword is enlightened."
Somehow—
looking at this blood-drenched youth before her,
Qian Renxue's nose stung.
Tears she could no longer hold back fell one after another.
She was not someone who cried easily.
But now—
she could only feel heartache.
Qian Renxue reached out both hands,
cupping Li Zhexian's face,
using her sleeve to gently wipe the blood from his skin.
Her voice trembled, thick with emotion.
"You are the most amazing."