Chen Feng rose to his feet, the massive sword-wings on his back giving a single beat, lifting his figure high into the skies.
From above, he looked down upon the dark city of Slaughter — the birthplace of the Killing God Domain. Countless inhabitants fell to their knees, bowing in submission before him.
Two warriors emerged from the shadows, clad in black armor with only their eyes exposed. Blood-red cloaks draped over their shoulders, and though their bodies radiated a sharp killing aura, it paled in comparison to Chen Feng's overwhelming presence.
"Great one," one of them spoke with reverence, "you have defeated the King of Slaughter. Will you now take his place as the new King of Slaughter?"
These two were the city's enforcers — the only Titled Douluo apart from the King himself. They maintained order, yet unlike the King, they had not inherited the Killing God Domain. Thus, even with their high standing, they could not freely use soul skills within the Slaughter City.
Chen Feng fell silent in thought.
The City of Slaughter — a place of sin, a land beyond law. Yet its existence was not without purpose.
Beyond serving as the ground for the inheritance of two divine legacies, it was also a prison. Here, countless criminals and murderers were trapped, unable to freely return to the outside world once they had entered.
He had once considered destroying the city altogether, as Tang San had done in another timeline. Within his storage belt still rested the Blood Swan Kiss, which, if thrown into the abyss beneath the city, would obliterate everything — for blood was the very foundation of the Slaughter City.
But if it were erased… then not only would the divine inheritances vanish, but those criminals, without the prison of this domain, would be loosed upon the world. Would that not be an even greater disaster?
Chen Feng came from five centuries in the future. He knew well what followed after the fall of Slaughter City — the rise of the Blood Soul Masters, later known as the "Evil Soul Masters."
Better, then, to let this place remain. Let it stand as a cage, drawing in all who thirsted for blood and evil, trapping them where they could harm no one else.
"The King of Slaughter has only departed — he has not died. From this day, you two shall govern this city in his stead. The rules remain unchanged until the next King is born."
His voice was calm, yet carried unquestionable authority.
The two enforcers immediately bowed their heads.
Chen Feng cast one final glance at the city, then with a single beat of his wings, his figure shot forth like a crimson meteor, vanishing from Slaughter City in an instant.
Three hundred li east of Heaven Dou City.
Nestled in the mountains was a village, no larger than the Soul Hunting Village.
At this hour, smoke curled from chimneys as villagers prepared their midday meal. Farmers gathered their tools from the fields, ready to return home.
Into this humble setting stepped a tall young man, about one meter eighty-five in height, dressed entirely in black. His presence stood out starkly from the rustic simplicity around him.
He wore a bamboo hat, his face hidden beneath a veil of black cloth. It was Chen Feng.
"You there! Who are you? Leave at once — outsiders are not welcome here."
Several villagers barred his path at the entrance of the village, their eyes sweeping over him warily.
"Go tell the Haotian Sect," Chen Feng said coolly, "that the Chief Elder has arrived. Let them come greet me at once."
The Haotian Sect was a place where strength spoke louder than anything else. Chen Feng had already prepared his approach: first, suppress them with his power; then, reveal the Chief Elder's token to win their submission.
For these stubborn hammer-wielders, words alone were useless. Without strength, they would only think him easy prey.
"Haotian Sect? You must be mistaken. This is just an ordinary village."
The villagers denied it, but their flickering eyes betrayed their unease.
They were not true core disciples of the sect, merely attached families and outer branches. With the sect in seclusion, this place served as little more than a forward outpost.
Chen Feng's voice grew colder. "Whether this is the Haotian Sect or not, all of you know the truth. There is no need to play dumb. Or do you take me for someone to trifle with? Believe it or not, I'll raze this village to the ground."
A sliver of killing intent seeped out of him — just the faintest trace, yet it swept over the village like a froststorm.
The villagers felt as though summer had turned to the dead of winter; cold sweat ran down their backs, their hair standing on end.
"Y-you wait here!" one of them stammered, before they hastily sent someone to deliver word.
Chen Feng stood silently, waiting.
Half an hour later, a long, resonant shout echoed across the mountains.
A dozen young men in gray robes rushed forward.
The one in the lead was a broad-shouldered man in his thirties, his short, bristling hair standing like steel needles. His sharp features and taut muscles beneath his robe gave him the air of a caged lion, brimming with raw strength.
"Who are you," the man demanded, his eyes sharp with hostility, "to trespass into my Haotian Sect's domain?"
At his command, the disciples fanned out, surrounding Chen Feng. The villagers from before had long since vanished.
Chen Feng chuckled lightly. He reached into his robe and withdrew a golden token, embossed with the image of a hammer. "In the presence of the Chief Elder, you still dare stand? Kneel."
"The Chief Elder?"
The gray-robed man faltered, his eyes narrowing at the token. The golden hammer was unmistakable — the symbol of the Haotian Sect's supreme authority. Yet by their records, the token had vanished long ago with the first sect master, Tang Chen. How could it appear here?
"What is this? As disciples of the Haotian Sect, you mean to tell me you don't recognize the Chief Elder's token? Kneel!"
Chen Feng's voice cracked like thunder.
The disciples felt the very air tremble around them, their bodies jolting involuntarily under its weight.
The gray-robed man scowled. "Who are you really? How did the Chief Elder's token come into your hands?"
"Of course, it was entrusted to me by Senior Tang Chen himself," Chen Feng replied evenly. "He told me, in the Haotian Sect, that seeing this token is the same as seeing him. Is that true, or not?"
"This… is true."
The man could only grit his teeth and nod. The rule was ironclad.
At his signal, the disciples bent at the waist in salute — but only to the token. They did not kneel, for the bearer of the token was no son of the Haotian Sect.
Straightening again, the gray-robed man's face was like ice. "Now then, stranger, it is time you told us who you are… and why you have come."
Chen Feng's lips curved in a faint, mocking smile. "Naturally, I come for important matters. Matters not meant for the ears of juniors. Take me to your Sect Master and elders. I'll speak with them — not with you."
The man's eyes flickered. For a moment, he hesitated, but the thought of the Sect Master and elders reassured him.
In all the continent, who could stir trouble within the Haotian Sect itself?
Turning on his heel, he barked but a single order:
Follow me.