"How… how is this possible?!"
Tang San staggered as if struck, his face draining of color. His eyes brimmed with utter horror and disbelief.
The destruction of King Yama's Invitation had already shaken his spirit—but what shattered him was the realization that his ultimate trump card, a hidden weapon capable of slaying Soul Saints, hadn't even come close to touching his opponent!
What kind of domain is this?!
How can it be this strong?!
In the VIP box, Bibi Dong's exquisite face registered shock—then swelled with pride and burning intensity.
Killing God Domain!
She knew Dai Chengfeng possessed one—but the sheer density of his killing intent, its near-physical manifestation… it far surpassed her own Killing God Domain in purity and terror!
How did he achieve this?
Just how many earth-shattering secrets does this man of mine still hide?
A wave of heat—pride, obsession, and possessive desire—flooded Bibi Dong's body, quickening her breath.
"Killing God Domain?! And… materialized?!"
Dai Mubai, collapsed on the ground, gasped aloud, eyes bulging.
He'd assumed Dai Chengfeng's martial soul had merely evolved, boosting his strength. But to wield a legendary domain—and the Killing God Domain no less—was beyond genius. It was monstrous! Demonic!
And he'd dared challenge him? How laughable!
Dai Mubai's last embers of defiance and hope extinguished, leaving only icy despair.
In the shadows, Tang Hao's mind reeled like a storm-tossed sea. He stared fixedly at the white-and-crimson domain below.
As a Killing God Domain user himself, he knew the agony of refining killing intent to "materialize." It demanded profound comprehension of slaughter, unshakable will, and unimaginable bloodshed!
What has this Dai Chengfeng endured?!
His heart clenched for Xiao San—but he crushed the urge to intervene.
He trusted his son. The son of the Hao Tian Douluo would never surrender easily—and could never accept paternal interference in a peer's duel!
This was Tang San's battle. Victory or defeat, life or death—he must face it alone!
Tang Hao buried his anxiety, dread, and shock deep within, eyes blazing as they locked onto the arena.
...
On the arena, the terrifying domain slowly receded, condensing into a three-zhang radius around Dai Chengfeng—thick as a blood ocean, swirling with phantoms of endless carnage.
At its center, Dai Chengfeng's golden hair stirred without wind. His eyes had turned pure crimson—devoid of human emotion, radiating only primal, absolute killing intent.
Behind him, the gold-and-blue White Tiger phantom grew more ferocious against the domain's blood-red aura, roaring soundlessly at the heavens, its killing aura suffocating.
He looked at Tang San—pale, trembling—and slowly raised his right hand.
Fingers spread. The viscous, blood-like killing intent surged toward his palm, compressing, condensing.
"You have King Yama's Invitation," Dai Chengfeng spoke, voice glacial, "to claim lives at the third watch."
"I have a technique," he continued, "forged in slaughter, honed between life and death…"
As he spoke, the condensed killing intent in his palm shaped into a foot-long crimson dagger—a phantom blade.
Its narrow, curved form seemed woven from solidified killing intent, countless wailing souls writhing within. Merely glancing at it seared the soul, dragging one toward hell.
Dai Chengfeng's blood-red eyes fixed on Tang San. Each word cut like ice:
"This skill is called—Blood-Slaughter Hundred Miles."
Before the last syllable faded, his right hand swept forward—a gentle, almost lazy motion.
No thunderous boom. No dazzling light.
Only a faint, cicada-wing-thin crimson line silently sliced through space.
Where it passed, the arena floor—hard enough to withstand Soul Saint battles—split soundlessly. The cut was smooth as a mirror, yet radiated an aura of utter annihilation.
Tang San's pupils shrank to pinpricks. His Purple Extreme Demon Eyes strained to their limit, but all he saw was the red thread of death swelling before him.
He tried to move—his body felt pinned under a mountain of ice.
He tried to channel soul power—it froze solid.
He tried Ghost Shadow Perplexing Steps—his legs weighed tons.
This wasn't just killing intent suppression. It was the entire domain focused into a single point of absolute imprisonment!
"Raaah—!"
At death's threshold, Tang San unleashed every ounce of potential. Mysterious Heaven Internal Energy roared; Eight-Spider Lances erupted anew, purple-gold light flaring across his skin.
He threw everything—every secret, every reserve—into resisting!
But it was futile.
The crimson thread of Blood-Slaughter Hundred Miles brushed past.
No sound. No explosion.
Time froze for an instant.
Tang San's purple-gold aura shattered like foam. The Eight-Spider Lances shrieked and retracted into his body.
He stood rigid, face twisted in desperate struggle—but the violet in his eyes dimmed rapidly.
The crimson thread never touched him. It dissolved an inch from his chest.
Yet an indescribable killing will—sharper than ice daggers—plunged along that invisible path straight into Tang San's sea of consciousness!
"Guh… Aaahh—!!!"
Tang San screamed—a sound barely human. He clutched his head, blood beads welling from all seven orifices.
His vision drowned in endless seas of blood and mountains of corpses. Slaughter phantoms tore at his soul; ten thousand blades carved his spirit; vengeful ghosts wailed in his ears!
This wasn't physical—it was a direct assault on his soul!
Tang San's spiritual power was peerless among his generation; his Purple Demon Eyes made it exceptionally refined.
But against Dai Chengfeng's killing intent—tempered in oceans of blood and forged by the Killing God Domain—it was fragile.
He collapsed, convulsing violently, veins bulging on his forehead, sweat and blood streaming down. Unimaginable agony contorted his face.
His consciousness drowned in slaughter illusions, his Dao-heart (T/N: self-belief/self-confidence) nearly shattered.
Dai Chengfeng's Killing God Domain slowly receded. His crimson eyes returned to deep black.
His face paled slightly—the seemingly effortless strike had drained him greatly.
"I… I concede…"
Just as the slaughter visions threatened to consume Tang San's mind, he choked out the words through gritted teeth.
Even his pride understood: this power was beyond resistance.
To persist would shatter his spirit—perhaps leave him a raving killer forever.
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