Chapter 356: Slaughtering Until No One Dares to Sign Up!
Hearing this, Tang Chuan's gaze lingered on Hu Liena for half a second. He was not surprised that she had achieved ninety-three victories in over a year.
The resources provided by Spirit Hall and the personal tutelage of Bibi Dong were simply incomparable to what ordinary people had access to.
Tang Chuan just gave a faint "Oh" to indicate he had heard, then ordered in a voice without the slightest ripple: "Help me register; I want to participate in the next match."
"The next match?" Hearing this, the Female Docent was stunned once again.
The look in her eyes as she gazed at Tang Chuan was filled with astonishment. Having just witnessed the bloodiness and cruelty of the Hell Slaughter Arena, and even seeing the battle of a powerhouse like Hu Liena, this young newcomer not only showed no fear or hesitation, but instead asked to compete immediately with such calmness?
Didn't he even need a moment to adapt or observe?
But she quickly composed herself.
In Slaughter City, the things least lacking were reckless fools who didn't know the height of the sky or the depth of the earth, and idiots seeking their own death. Her duty was only to guide and assist; as for the life or death of others, it had nothing to do with her.
"Understood." Nodding, the Female Docent put back on that standard, hollow smile and said: "Please wait a moment, I will go handle the registration for you right away."
Immediately after, she turned around, and her figure quickly disappeared into the noisy, crowded audience.
Hu Liena exited amidst the clamor, and the staff quickly cleared the arena, dragging away corpses and sprinkling sand to cover the bloodstains, their movements practiced and numb.
Not long after, the Female Docent returned and whispered to Tang Chuan:
"It has been arranged for you. The next match is a ten-person melee, and you are one of them. Please enter from that passage." She pointed to a dark entrance below the viewing platform.
Tang Chuan nodded without saying more. Carrying his golden dragon spear, he walked toward the entrance.
The passage was dimly lit, permeated with a mixed scent of rust and blood.
At the end was a heavy iron grate.
"Dang—!" A dull bell rang from outside, signifying the complete end of the previous match and the imminent start of the next.
The iron grate slowly rose. Tang Chuan stepped out with the golden dragon spear in hand, moving from the shadows into the glaring spirit guidance lights of the arena, and the roar of the crowd instantly swallowed him.
In the center of the arena, the huge circular gladiatorial ground was covered in dark red sand, where faint, uncleared bloodstains could still be seen.
Around him, nine other figures were already in position.
They were of various forms: some tall and ferocious, some short and wretched, some silent and cold, some licking their blades. But without exception, they all looked at Tang Chuan, this new face, with malicious, greedy, and scrutinizing gazes.
They lingered especially long on the golden dragon spear with its contained brilliance in his hand.
Standing at the edge of the arena, Tang Chuan just calmly swept a glance at his nine opponents. At some point, he had already put on a ghost god mask, and his blue hair, under the blood-colored halo of the arena, seemed to flow with a faint, ghostly light.
The ten-person melee was about to begin.
"The match begins!"
The referee's voice had just fallen, and before most of the audience could even fully focus their gaze on the blue-haired newcomer in the ghost god mask in the arena...
Several shrill screams came from the arena. It was as if a slight distortion of light and shadow had occurred, or perhaps a golden lightning bolt that the naked eye couldn't capture had flashed through the arena.
"Puchi!"
"Krack!"
"Ugh, ah—!"
Nine sounds rang out almost simultaneously—a mixture of a Sharp Weapon piercing flesh, bones shattering, and the extremely short, shrill screams of those on the verge of death!
Immediately following, nine figures, with their original standing positions as the center, fell to the ground with a bang in different directions, kicking up dust.
Some had their throats pierced, blood gushing like a spring; some had terrifying blood holes exploded in their chests, with internal organs vaguely visible; some had their heads twisted at a bizarre angle.
In the eyes of these Fallen Ones, the bloodthirst and confusion from the previous second still remained...
Fast! Too fast!
From start to finish, perhaps only two or three seconds had passed.
The entire Hell Slaughter Arena fell into a brief, deathly silence.
All the spectators, whether they were the Fallen Ones who had been roaring wildly just a moment ago, or the powerhouses hidden in the corners, all widened their eyes and opened their mouths, looking at the arena in disbelief.
Nine Fallen Ones who had struggled to survive in Slaughter City, whose hands were stained with blood, and who were by no means weak, had just... died? They hadn't even seen clearly how that blue-haired youth moved, or how that golden dragon spear was swung!
It was as if he had just stood there, and death had automatically harvested all the lives around him.
"Waaaa—!!!"
The silence was broken by an even more violent wave of sound!
A fanatical cheer, like a landslide or tsunami, erupted from the viewing platform! These Fallen Ones who took pleasure in killing and blood were completely ignited by this extremely efficient, extremely violent slaughter!
"Well killed!!"
"Too fast! I couldn't see it at all!"
"What kind of weapon is that? What kind of speed is that?!"
"A newcomer? This is a newcomer? Are you kidding me!"
"Death God! He is the Death God!"
Exclamations, discussions, and wild shouting filled the entire space. Everyone was discussing those unbelievable few seconds, discussing the blue-haired youth wearing a mask who had descended like a Death God.
And Tang Chuan, in the arena, turned a deaf ear to the clamor around him.
He slowly raised the golden dragon spear. The blood droplets dripping from the spear tip created small pits in the dark red sand. He didn't even look at the corpses at his feet, just raised his head, his gaze calmly cast toward the direction of the presiding platform, as if silently urging for the next match.
Soon, the staff mechanically stepped forward to clear the arena.
And the list of new opponents was also quickly arranged with an almost eerie efficiency; it seemed that even the rules of Slaughter City itself had developed an interest in this suddenly appearing, highly efficient cleaner, or rather... a desire to feed.
Tang Chuan did not leave the arena.
He waited right there.
The second match, a ten-person melee, had no suspense in its outcome, and it ended even faster than the first.
The golden spear light was like a death invitation, precisely and coldly sweeping past. The ten opponents hadn't even managed to form an effective encirclement formation before they had turned into a pile of corpses.
The cheering became even more frenzied.
Then came the third, fourth, fifth match...
Tang Chuan was like an untiring, precision-made killing machine.
Every match was a ten-person melee, every match was a one-sided slaughter. There was no grappling, no probing, and he didn't even leave his opponents any room to resist or struggle. The golden dragon spear would stab, sweep, or point; every strike was concise to the extreme, and lethal to the extreme.
Blood kept splashing onto the dark red sand, and new corpses quickly covered the old ones.
One match after another.
The tenth, fifteenth, twentieth match...
The atmosphere of the entire Hell Slaughter Arena gradually began to change from the initial fanatical cheering.
The cheering still existed, but it began to be mixed with more and more shock, fear, and even... awe. Watching the blue figure in the arena who seemed untiring and constantly creating mountains of corpses and seas of blood, a chill began to grow in the hearts of many people.
When the bells for the twenty-fifth and thirtieth matches rang one after another.
The clamor on the viewing platform had become somewhat sparse. Many people just widened their eyes, held their breath, and numbly watched the slaughter scene repeating in the arena.
Finally, when the thirty-fifth match ended and the last opponent was paralyzed on the ground with their heart shredded by the spear light, a slightly dry voice came from the presiding platform, saying:
"Today... the applicants for the Hell Slaughter Arena have been cleared. There are no new challengers for now."
It wasn't that there were no arrangements, but... no one dared to sign up?
All the Fallen Ones and trainees qualified and brave enough to step into the Hell Slaughter Arena had either become part of the cold corpses gradually being cleared from the arena.
Or they had been completely intimidated by this unreasonable, crushing, terrifying slaughter and had retreated into their dark lairs, not daring to take another step forward.
One day, just the first day of arriving at Slaughter City.
Tang Chuan had completed thirty-five consecutive victories, and over three hundred opponents had died under his spear.
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