Armored Li Dingxun was in a dim, pitch-black corridor. His armor was like a mountain, and the plates were like a forest. All the fine gaps were now completely filled with blood, constantly seeping down and dripping onto the ground. The corridor was strewn with bone fragments, minced flesh, poisonous needles, long spears… Li Dingxun was not just a person; he transcended humanity. He was a torrent.
"Let this Seat see, a lion cub has arrived!" A slender ghostly shadow rose from the faint light ahead. The person took a few steps forward, revealing a face as pale as frost in the dim, grey sunlight outside the window.
Li Dingxun showed no intention of wasting words. He stepped forward and threw a punch!
Boom!
The corridor shook violently, like a typhoon passing through in an instant, stirring up a massive surge.
The opponent let out a piercing shriek, his body flying through the air like a puppet. A swirling, anomalous force weakened the punch layer by layer, while the pale-faced man soared like a paper kite, grinning eerily as he slid into the darkness and vanished.
With one punch achieving nothing, Li Dingxun was not in a hurry to pursue. He continued to walk slowly forward.
The thudding footsteps passed through the corridor and entered another large hall.
The smell of oil smoke still lingered in the air; the lamps on the long pillars in the hall had only recently been extinguished.
Besides this light, ethereal smoke, there was also a heavy, foul smell — a stench. It was as if one had fallen into a putrid river, as if in a pile of corpses, as if in a river of floating bodies, as if in a vulture's nest. In short, it was a stench unbearable for humans.
Li Dingxun's footsteps remained steady.
The shadows here seemed to be imbued with mass by the silence, trembling with the movement of the human figure, parting and merging like waves, ebbing and flowing like tides.
A low gasp broke the oppressive silence, coming from a corner, like a small mouse stealing food.
Li Dingxun walked over and found a ragged male child trembling in the corner by the wall. He had a foul odor on him, mixed with sweat, blood, and urine. He sat on a tattered straw mat, and behind him was the corpse of another child, already rotten and covered in maggots.
The gasping intensified.
Li Dingxun took out a fire starter and lit it. A faint light appeared, providing sparse illumination — enough, enough for him to see the tragic scene clearly.
The path in the center of the main hall was wide and flat, but both sides were filled with children, the disabled, the old, the weak, and the sick.
Death was etched here, the walls covered in reliefs depicting scenes of hell.
Tongue-pulling, bone-extraction, needle-piercing, limb-tearing, face-slicing, burning, skin-flaying…
Li Dingxun understood; this was not death.
The totem here was — pain.
And fear.
In the depths of the main hall, on the high platform, a fire light ignited, and a river of blood suddenly plunged from the ceiling.
Li Dingxun squinted, adapting to the strong light, watching the shimmering blood rush down like a Waterfall, like a crimson curtain, glowing with a silken sheen, falling little by little, seemingly even blown by the wind, falling, landing in a pool behind the high platform, making a loud noise, wailing to the entire hall, to the world.
Twelve blood-robed figures appeared on the high platform.
The heavenly light illuminated their faces, but it could not penetrate their shadows, nor could it penetrate their certain demonic nature.
"The Lion Appearance Sect actually has a master like you, breaking through all the way to the Blood Pool Divine Temple, but this is as far as you go."
The man in the center was tall, even a head taller than Li Dingxun, with blood-red hair draped over his shoulders and scarlet eyes. He was none other than the Cult Master, Simon.
This leader of the evil faction wore a playful smile on his face, his tone unhurried, completely disregarding Li Dingxun, and indifferent to the deceased cult members.
"Whose disciple are you? Let this Venerable guess, you look to be under twenty…"
Li Dingxun assumed a boxing stance. He was unwilling to listen to any more words; his killing intent was about to burst through his skin.
Simon's face darkened. "Such an arrogant Young man, do you not know how to respect your elders? This Venerable will teach you a lesson right now!"
Li Dingxun lightly struck with his palm.
God-tier, Da Zhuo Hand.
The number one external martial art in the world.
The Bloodhowl Sect demon's face changed drastically. This palm strike!
It was no longer a competition of aura, no longer a competition of martial arts conception. The arena of these top martial artists was forcibly shattered by this palm strike!
It was a competition of internal energy, a competition of pure strength!
If I am strong, I win. If you are weak, you die!
Boom—!!!
The wild and magnificent roof of the Bloodhowl Sacred City flew up, exploding in mid-air.
A corner of the mist shrouding Bloodhowl Valley was dispersed by the wind.
Looking at the twelve demons now, not even ash remained.
Li Dingxun slowly retracted his palm.
He was about to leave.
A familiar voice came.
"Trying to leave? I'm afraid it won't be that easy!"
Li Dingxun suddenly turned his head.
The blood Waterfall split open, and twelve dripping, humanoid figures emerged.
It was Simon and his group.
"Truly, the Young man is formidable!" The skin on Simon's face slowly reassembled. "Is this the Da Zhuo Hand? Why is its force so strong?"
Li Dingxun was moved. Were these guys truly immortal?
"Surprised? This is the great power of the Grand Ancestor Deity!"
God-tier, Immortal Blood Child Body!
Li Dingxun frowned. Such power could not be limitless, so what was the cost?
Before he could think further, the twelve had formed a formation and lunged forward.
Blood Pool Ghost Claw!
This place was filled with blood energy, allowing this move to receive maximum enhancement. Although it was a super-third-grade technique, its power was almost on par with absolute-second-grade.
"Twelve Blood Child Great Formation!"
Twisted phantom images of children appeared in mid-air, letting out piercing infant cries at Li Dingxun. However, Li Dingxun remained unmoved. He was like a precise machine, punching left and right to disperse the ghost claws.
"How long can you last?"
"Give up!"
"Wouldn't it be better to just die and be free of trouble?"
Li Dingxun gathered his energy. Da Zhuo Hand!
Boom—!
Another piece of the dome flew off, and the sunlight shone even more wantonly on this hellish domain, while the hanging blood Waterfall became even brighter.
The immortal twelve appeared again.
There was no extra pleasantry; the third meeting was a fight to the death.
"Die!"
"Isn't it better to die peacefully?"
Da Zhuo Hand!
Crushed to ash again and again, resurrected again and again.
The blood Waterfall would never dry up. The only change was in the demons of the Bloodhowl Sect; their words became fewer and fewer, and their expressions became more and more numb. This did not mean their techniques were weakening; on the contrary, the more they succumbed, the more their strength wildly surged!
"How many more times can you use Da Zhuo Hand?"
"It's useless."
Silence in response.
Only silence, only striking.
Da Zhuo Hand.
"How much longer can you hold on? One hour? Two hours?"
Each time they emerged from the blood Waterfall, the forms of the Bloodhowl Sect Master and others became distorted, with terrifying monstrous features appearing on their bodies.
A twisted will permeated this place. Even with the sunlight shining, evil and filth had surged up.
Absolute-second-grade, Heavenly Demon Telepathy. When activated, the whole body turned crimson. These were the red toxins swallowed during cultivation. When attacked by an external enemy, the red toxins would transfer to the enemy. Each time they died, the twelve Bloodhowl demons would draw blood toxins from the blood Waterfall and release them through Heavenly Demon Telepathy. Now, a large amount of poisonous mist had accumulated into a shallow pool of poison. The innocent people in the hall struggled and died like maggots, not daring to leave the hall even in extreme pain.
The poison had reached the point of melting gold and corroding iron. The stone slabs of the hall were bubbling, their structure as brittle as foam.
The two warring sides were sinking.
Little by little, seemingly sinking into hell.
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