The Hell Killing Ground was a circular arena with a diameter of one hundred meters. Surrounding it were tiered stands filled with a considerable number of spectators. These onlookers were both viewers and, in the future, potential participants in the brutal duels. Therefore, everyone who emerged from the arena was meticulously studied, or worse, targeted for elimination.
Rules were non-existent here. It was permissible to finish off an opponent once their strength was depleted and they stumbled out of the killing zone.
Standing in a corner of the arena, Wang Zhong surveyed his surroundings. His curious gaze and constant turning indicated his newcomer status. Including Wang Zhong, there were nine people on the stage. According to the woman, the Killing Ground only commenced when ten participants were gathered, and during this waiting period, no attacks were allowed. This stipulation granted Wang Zhong the opportunity to observe.
While his actions were merely the natural curiosity of someone in a new environment, for the other eight participants, it signified something else: a rookie. This meant he was the most vulnerable target in this match.
"A new guy! Let's take care of him first when the match begins!" thought a burly man in a corner, a purple flame marking his brow.
"Judging by his movements and demeanor, he's undoubtedly a newcomer. However, anyone who reaches the City of Slaughter is no saint or weakling. Let's have them test his abilities and methods first," a tall, slender man in another corner mused, his eyes gleaming. A mark identical to the burly man's, a flame, also adorned his brow.
"A rookie. Perhaps I can form an alliance with him later, let him fight to the death with the others, and then I'll clean up the mess." A short, stout dwarf circled Wang Zhong, his brow bearing a black flame mark.
Remarkably, among those participating in this deathmatch were two core disciples of the Holy Spirit Cult and one hall master. The sheer number of Holy Spirit Cult members present was a testament to their influence.
The eight individuals cautiously assessed each other, each harboring their own strategies.
Unaware of their thoughts, Wang Zhong withdrew his gaze and recalled the registration requirements.
"Bloody Mary. I thought the name implied a fine beverage, but it turned out to be a cup of human blood!"
"This place is truly disgusting, using such a thing as an entry fee."
"Fortunately, it can be someone else's. I have no interest in self-mutilation to procure it."
When Wang Zhong first heard the registration requirement, he stood frozen for several seconds. Only when the woman explained that it could be someone else's blood did he snatch a cup from a fierce-looking middle-aged man who happened to pass by. Here, life and death were trivial matters. Wang Zhong easily subdued the man, who promptly handed over the cup and left without hesitation.
The woman, acting as his guide, subtly shook her head at this outcome. He had already made an enemy, yet he spared the man's life. Such leniency would not last long in the Killing Ground. Open combat was one thing; if one possessed sufficient strength, it posed little threat. But this was the City of Slaughter, where any underhanded tactic was permitted. A hidden viper was the most dangerous foe, capable of delivering a fatal strike when one least expected it.
Before long, as the tenth person stepped onto the arena, the atmosphere grew palpably tense. Each participant exuded an extremely fearsome aura of soul power.
Five Soul Emperors, two Soul Saints, and one Soul Douluo! The Soul Douluo was none other than the burly man.
Despite the formidable lineup, Wang Zhong yawned heavily, bored by the prolonged wait. Although only one person was missing, they had waited for at least a quarter of an hour. Given the woman's statement that the Hell Killing Ground saw constant participation, this delay was rather ironic.
*Whoosh!*
A purplish poisonous needle, at an extremely sharp angle, shot directly towards the yawning Wang Zhong. Someone had made their move, aiming to eliminate Wang Zhong immediately.
"Ignorant!" Onlookers scoffed as the woman who guided Wang Zhong sneered at the scene. Her disdain was not directed at Wang Zhong, but at the Soul Emperor who had attacked. Wang Zhong had, with a single strike, gravely injured a guardian. His strength was terrifying. Each guardian was a Soul Douluo, capable of using soul skills within the City of Slaughter. For a mere Soul Emperor to dare attack such a formidable opponent was audacious.
With two fingers extended, Wang Zhong caught the purplish needle. He turned to face the Soul Emperor, a seemingly ordinary but sinister-looking middle-aged man. The lethal strike, at such a opportune moment, had failed. The middle-aged man’s face showed surprise, but when he saw Wang Zhong dare to catch his poisonous needle with bare flesh, a sneer spread across his lips. This was a potent poison he had acquired at great expense from an outsider. It caused flesh to rot and blood to melt, and even the slightest contact would result in instant poisoning.
One breath, two breaths, ten breaths passed. The outcome he had anticipated did not materialize. Wang Zhong still held the needle, his body unchanged. The so-called flesh-melting poison seemed like a mere joke.
"Impossible! Impossible! Why is the poison not working on you!" the middle-aged man roared.
"Poison?" Wang Zhong glanced at the needle in his fingertip, shaking his head. His body had been immune to most poisons since childhood, and as he grew, this immunity had become even more formidable. Being impervious to all poisons was no idle boast. Furthermore, his body was currently encased in a layer of wood armor, like skin. Minor toxins were merely nourishment.
"Such a paltry amount? How boring. Here, take it back."
Clamping the needle between his thumb and middle finger, Wang Zhong flicked it. The needle transformed into a purple lightning bolt, piercing directly through the middle-aged man's brow and vanishing into the ground.
Fast, incredibly fast! Even though the middle-aged man began to evade the moment Wang Zhong spoke, he couldn't dodge this returned strike. In a single breath, the middle-aged man's body, starting from his forehead, dissolved into a pool of blood at a visible rate.
"This guy! He's no simple character!" The burly man's black flame mark contorted on his brow. Wang Zhong's attack had been so swift that even his keen eyes only registered the flick of a finger. The needle's trajectory was a straight line, yet he couldn't track its movement. Such speed surpassed the limits of his vision. Had Wang Zhong's needle been aimed at him, his fate would have been no different from the middle-aged man's.
"A newcomer? What kind of monster is this!" The tall, slender man’s entire face contorted. He knew the middle-aged man and the origin of the poisonous needle, and he was acutely aware of its terrifying potency. With such a skill, the middle-aged man had won four duels in the Killing Ground. Now, he had been effortlessly dispatched by another, using his own poison. This outcome was far more chilling than if Wang Zhong had killed him with his own abilities.
"This..." The dwarf's expression turned grim. He had previously considered forming an alliance with Wang Zhong and then profiting from the ensuing chaos. But now, he realized he had no grounds for such ambitions. Wang Zhong was the true formidable opponent in this Killing Ground, far eclipsing even the burly man from the Holy Spirit Cult.
The reason this match had dragged on for so long was largely due to the burly man's presence. Future participants, upon seeing him in the arena, had lost any desire to compete. The burly man had achieved twenty-four consecutive victories in the Killing Ground, his strength and methods exceeding imagination. It could be said that had he not been the seventh to enter the arena, this deathmatch would have been forced to begin only at dusk.