She, Qian Renxue, would only ever show that gentle, smiling side of herself before Li Zhexian.
If anyone mistook that smile…
For a sign that she was easy to approach—
They would be gravely mistaken.
Her gentleness belonged to Li Zhexian alone.
"I… mean no harm…"
"I came to you… to discuss something…"
Hu Liena's vision swam with darkness. The slender hand gripping her throat was like a steel vice, choking her until she could barely force out the words, her heart surging with sheer terror.
She had thought that—
In the Slaughter City, where Spirit Abilities were sealed—
Aside from that monstrous man known as Blood Slaughter Sword,
they were all "Seeds." Even if she was slightly inferior to Qian Renxue, the difference couldn't possibly be too great.
Until this moment—
She finally understood: even among Seeds, there were still gap between them!
Bang—
The hand at her throat suddenly released.
Qian Renxue's voice was cold and devoid of the faintest trace of human warmth.
"Speak."
Hu Liena collapsed to the ground, gasping desperately for air.
After a long while—
She pushed herself up, trembling, one hand against the wall for support.
"Qian Renxue…"
"I… came to seek your cooperation…"
"No matter what stands between us, we are both of the Spirit Hall. Don't be so quick to refuse…"
"Even with your strength, to pass the Hell Road is no easy task."
"Otherwise, through the ages, why would there have been only eight who became Slaughter Gods?"
She steadied herself, gazing at Qian Renxue's flawless, indifferent profile.
"Not to mention the Hell Road's dangers themselves…"
"Just the killing intent you've accumulated from ninety-nine consecutive victories—once you step onto the Hell Road, it will inevitably erupt."
"You'll need someone you can trust to watch your back."
"You may not trust me, but with the Worship Hall standing behind you, I wouldn't dare make a move against you."
"…You done?"
Qian Renxue didn't even turn her head, simply continued walking toward the marketplace.
"My only partner—"
"Is the Blood Slaughter Sword."
"What makes you think…"
"You are worthy to be compared with him?"
At those words—
Hu Liena's expression finally changed completely.
She had indeed come seeking cooperation,
But also—to test something.
Ever since that day—when the Blood Slaughter Sword slaughtered over three thousand men—
Hu Liena's suspicion had only grown.
If Qian Renxue and the Bloodslaughter Sword were enemies, that might make sense.
But she had instead joined forces with him, despite earning the hatred of the entire Eastern District,
Without a bond of extraordinary depth—how could someone as proud as Qian Renxue ever do that?
And that moment—
when she leapt from the Blood Slaughter Sword's side in battle—
It mirrored perfectly that scene four years ago,
when Qian Renxue had drawn her blade against the Spirit Hall itself—for Li Zhexian's sake.
Over the past year, rumors had spread—
that the "Angel" and the "Blood Slaughter Sword" were inseparable, showing no attempt to conceal their closeness.
Doubt, like wildfire, had consumed Hu Liena's heart—
until it became a conviction.
After a long silence, throat tightening, she finally forced the words out:
"Blood Slaughter Sword… is Li Zhexian, isn't he?"
Qian Renxue's steps never faltered. Her figure flickered once in the alley's shadows—then vanished completely from Hu Liena's sight.
...
When Qian Renxue returned from her errands and stepped back into the courtyard—
Li Zhexian had just awakened from his meditation.
He exhaled a long breath.
That breath condensed, refusing to dissipate—
and instead vibrated faintly in the air, transforming into a drawn-out, resonant sword cry.
This strange sight—
Reflected in Qian Renxue's eyes—
Made her peerless face soften with deep affection.
Over the course of the past year—
She had seen it all.
Beyond that terrifying record of ninety-nine consecutive victories in the Hell Slaughter Arena,
Li Zhexian's mastery of Sword Dao had grown steadily, solid and unshakable.
Compared to a year ago—
The sword in his hand—
Had become sharper by more than just a margin.
Though Qian Renxue also wielded a sword, her path was ultimately the inheritance of the Angel God's divinity; her understanding of pure swordsmanship was far beneath Li Zhexian's.
Even so—
She was keenly aware—
That in the entire world today—
Even counting the Titled Douluo,
There were only two who could stand on equal footing with Li Zhexian in the way of the sword.
Just as Feng Bailong had once declared—a saying now spread throughout the land:
"In all the world's Sword Dao, there is but one stone's worth of essence.
Chen Xin claims six measures, this old man two, and young friend Zhexian, though still youthful, deserves one.
The rest—let the world's sword cultivators divide what remains."
"Li Zhexian…"
Qian Renxue's voice was gentle and melodious, utterly unlike the icy tone she had used earlier with Hu Liena.
"With your current understanding of Sword Dao, do Senior Feng Bailong and Senior Chen Xin still stand above you?"
At the mention of Sword Dao,
The faint smile that had risen upon seeing Qian Renxue vanished from Li Zhexian's lips. His expression turned solemn.
He furrowed his brows, pondered for a moment, then said seriously:
"They should still be higher than me."
"Senior Chen Xin, as the foremost figure in the Sword Dao, more than ten years ago—when Spirit Hall's army stood before the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect—"
"He was then in seclusion, meditating on the sword. When he finally emerged, a Seven Kill Sword Mark had already formed upon his brow."
(Chen Xin — Fourth Realm of Sword Dao)
"That mark represents the Fourth Realm of Sword Dao."
"And now, after more than a decade—
With Senior Chen Xin's talent, he must have gone even further."
"As for Senior Feng Bailong…"
Li Zhexian mused,
"Brother Buyu once told me—
"Senior Feng comprehended the sword for several years at the Listening Wind Cliff, and a Sword Mark appeared on his forehead."
"He then sheathed his sword, nurturing its essence for years—his realm must have risen to even greater heights."
Seeing Qian Renxue nod in understanding,
Li Zhexian's lips curved slightly; the youthful pride of a swordsman blazed through his calm:
"But my Sword Dao too—has never once stagnated."
"The threshold of the Fifth Realm of Sword Dao—"
"I have already seen it."
...
Half a year passed in a flash.
Only a few months remained until the five-year promise between Li Zhexian and his friends.
The Charming Fox and Asura Hammer had each achieved ninety-nine consecutive victories.
In the Slaughter City,
an event unprecedented in history was about to unfold—
Blood Slaughter Sword, Angel, Charming Fox, Asura Hammer—the four "Seeds" representing the four major districts of the Inner City—would simultaneously commence their final battles.
This meant that four warriors would achieve a hundred consecutive victories at once—
together knocking on the gates of the Hell Road!
On that day—
Every other arena in the Hell Slaughter Arena was closed.
Only four rings remained, blazing with the final blood-red glow of slaughter.
The "one-thousand-spectator limit per arena" rule was broken.
In the darkness—
Waves of people surged, the uproar thunderous enough to shake the heavens.
"We finally get to see the Blood Slaughter Sword's blade again! I wonder how much blood that sword has drunk now, and how sharp it is?!"
"Four entering the Hell Road at once! Never in the history of the Slaughter City has such a thing occurred!"
"Tch! Charming Fox and Asura Hammer? They're nothing compared to Blood Slaughter Sword and Angel! If not for the tournament schedule, those two would've reached the Hell Road long ago!"
"Plenty have won a hundred matches before! But those who survived the Hell Road and became Slaughter Gods—only eight in a thousand years!"
"I don't care about the rest! They say once someone achieves a hundred victories, the Slaughter King himself will appear!"
The frenzied shouts of the spectators surged like a storm tide.
Yet—
When Li Zhexian stepped from the darkness onto the bloodstained stage that belonged to him—
All sound was cut off by an invisible barrier.
He stood silently at the center.
His aura was cold and fathomless as an abyss.
Nine opponents gathered before him, faces taut with dread.
Without any apparent action from Li Zhexian, a streak of crimson sword light—cutting across the entire arena—suddenly tore through the darkness, like a blood moon appearing abruptly, reaching his enemies in an instant.