600: Chapter 600 Nine Transformations of the Blood God

"This Blood Butcher... how can he not even break through her defense?"

A suppressed whisper rang out in the deathly silence—like the first drop of water falling into boiling oil.

Immediately after, more voices spread like falling dominoes, rustling through the air.

At first, it was a tentative sound mixed with fear, but seeing the golden figure at the center of the sea of blood remain silent, the fear rapidly fermented into a more complex emotion.

"And he claims to be one of the seven great Prodigies of the Blood Clan? Is this... his level?"

A shrill voice deliberately drew out its tone, filled with unspeakable mockery.

"I think the Blood Clan is truly empty of talent if this... trash can be held up as a Prodigy? Tsk tsk."

Another slightly hoarse voice chimed in, carrying the superiority of one who sees through illusions.

"Heh heh, perhaps the Prodigies of the Blood Clan are just like this? After all, Blood Ancestor this, Blood Ancestor that, the name sounds intimidating, but in the end... besides playing with blood and doing that blood-sucking routine, what real ability can they have?"

The third voice was even more explicit, even letting out a few short, undisguised sneers.

These voices were initially just scattered points, but soon spread like a plague among the crowd that had retreated in terror.

They were not loud, but because they were infused with various complex emotions—jealousy, lingering fear, the desire to watch the chaos unfold, and even a secret revenge for the Blood Butcher's previous suppression—they sounded exceptionally harsh.

Like countless poisonous flies buzzing and circling, they precisely drilled into the Blood Butcher's perception, which had become incredibly sharp due to his rage.

Every sentence was incredibly clear.

Every word was like a red-hot steel needle, fiercely stabbing into his riddled heart and then stirring it without mercy.

A Prodigy...

He, the Blood Butcher, was born bathed in the most concentrated divine Bloodline of the Blood Clan.

Since he could remember, the fearful and envious gazes of his peers and the expectant stares of the Elders in the clan had followed him like a shadow.

He was the most dazzling star of the Blood Clan's younger generation, one of the successors destined to lead the Blood Clan toward a more glorious future.

Beneath his feet lay a throne forged from the bones and wails of countless defeated foes.

Contempt? Mockery?

These words had never appeared in his life's dictionary.

There was only awe, only submission, only the coldness of life and death that he bestowed upon others.

But at this moment...

He was not only being casually crushed in a near-humiliating manner by a Nascent Soul girl whose cultivation was clearly lower than his own and who looked timid and harmless—he couldn't even make her move a single step!

He was being publicly judged and wantonly trampled upon by these bystanders, whom he usually regarded as ants that could be extinguished at will, with such a contemptuous, disdainful, and unscrupulous tone!

How dare they?

How are they worthy?!

This was not just gossip—

It was countless invisible feet stepping on the pride he once viewed as his life, his inviolable dignity, and his invincible self-confidence, along with his current disheveled image, grinding them into the mud, repeatedly, until they were crushed into dust!

"Urgh... Aaaaaah—!!!"

A roar mixed with extreme humiliation, boundless rage, and a kind of ice-cold despair suddenly broke through the Blood Butcher's spasming throat.

This was not a human voice.

It was more like the wail of a dying Vicious Beast as its Soul was torn apart.

His dark red hair broke free from the restraints of his crown, shooting into the sky like dancing poisonous snakes, every strand standing on end!

Under his skin, those complex and mysterious blood-colored patterns representing the highest glory of the Blood Clan now seemed unable to withstand the violent power within, starting to flicker and twist violently, then emitting faint sounds like cracking porcelain—

Clear blood-colored cracks spread between the patterns!

Dark blue blood, containing divine essence, slowly seeped out from those cracks like tear stains.

He was burning.

Burning everything without regard!

Burning his innate and prideful Bloodline Power, burning the gift from the ancestors of the Blood Clan that supported him to this day!

"Blood, God, Nine, Transformations—"

The Blood Butcher slowly raised his head, every word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, from the depths of his Soul, and from the boiling sea of blood, carrying a scalding scent of blood and a determination to destroy everything.

"Ninth, Transformation!!!"

"Boom—!"

These last three words were like a funeral bell ringing from the Nine Underworlds, carrying an ominous aura that made the heavens and earth change color, fiercely crashing into the eardrums and Divine Soul of everyone present!

Everyone's faces turned as pale as paper in an instant, their pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks.

Boundless fear, like a cold tide, instantly submerged them.

The previous whispering, sarcasm, and mockery stopped abruptly, like chickens whose necks had been strangled—

Only the sound of gasping remained.

Nine Transformations of the Blood God!

The supreme forbidden technique of the Blood Clan, inherited from ancient times, the most vicious, most overbearing, and most taboo!

Its power surged geometrically with each transformation, and the price required for each use was equally appalling.

The first six transformations were enough for the Blood Butcher to dominate his peers, while the seventh and eighth were life-risking techniques that required damaging his Origin and shaking his Dao foundation.

And that legendary—Ninth Transformation!

This was an absolute forbidden technique marked in the ancient books of the Blood Clan with the most striking and bloodiest characters!

It was a suicidal Divine Ability that could only be used in the desperate situation of racial survival or the severance of the lineage, by the core inheritor, burning their own Bloodline roots, sacrificing massive amounts of Lifespan, and even splitting and obliterating their own Soul as a sacrifice, to borrow a trace of descending power from that ancient Blood Ancestor in the netherworld!

Once cast, there was absolutely no good end.

At best, the Bloodline would dry up, leaving them a cripple, with their Lifespan sharply reduced and their vitality withered;

At worst, the Bloodline would backfire and shatter on the spot, the Soul would be assimilated and devoured by the borrowed power, resulting in complete destruction of both body and Soul, never to be reincarnated for eternity!

"Stop!! Blood Butcher, have you gone mad?! Stop quickly!! You will die! Your Divine Soul will be destroyed!!"

An Elder of the Blood Clan, with hair and beard standing on end, could no longer hold back, screaming recklessly, his old face twisted in extreme terror.

He was one of the Blood Butcher's Guardians, and he knew the horror of the Ninth Transformation deep down.

The Blood Butcher was one of the most outstanding individuals of this generation of the Blood Clan; if he were to fall here, or even destroy himself in such a tragic way—

He would not be able to atone for his crimes even with ten thousand deaths!!

But at this moment, the Blood Butcher could hear nothing.

His world had been completely filled with viscous, boiling darkness and blood color.

In his ears, there was only the crackling sound of his Bloodline burning, the bursting sound of his heart being crushed by humiliation, and the infinitely amplified, constantly echoing mocking sound of the girl's three words: "Little bug."

In his eyes, there remained only that golden figure who stood indifferently, seemingly unconcerned about the impending destruction.

Kill her.

Must kill her.

Use her blood to wash away this shame!

Use her Soul to fill the void of his shattered pride!

At all costs!

"Ninth, Transformation—"

The Blood Butcher's voice became inhuman at this moment.

It was like the roar of countless overlapping vengeful spirits, or like a spell echoing from an ancient altar, calling for an evil god to descend.

"—Blood, Ancestor, Descend!"

"Rip—!"

It was as if something inside him had completely snapped and burned.

His body, which had expanded to its limit from performing the first six transformations, suddenly trembled and spasmed violently!

On the surface of his skin, those blood-colored cracks spread and deepened crazily like a parched earth.

Dark blue blood, containing a strange luster, no longer seeped out in trickles, but gushed out like a fountain from every crack on his body, and even from his seven orifices!

But this blood did not drip down.

Instead, it defied common sense and floated up, circling him in a frantic spin, gathering more and more, becoming thicker and thicker.

In the blink of an eye, a huge and eerie blood-colored "cocoon," over ten zhang in diameter and composed entirely of his own essence blood, wrapped him completely inside.

On the surface of the cocoon, the viscous blood wriggled like a living thing, outlining countless twisted, painful, and profane ancient runes, emitting a nauseating sweet, fishy smell and an extremely ominous aura of destruction.

The blood-colored cocoon began to beat low and powerfully, like a heart.

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

Every beat was like a heavy hammer smashing into everyone's heart, causing those with slightly weaker cultivation to have their Qi and blood surge in reverse, spitting out blood.

The Void Realm also resonated, emitting a groan as if it could not bear the burden.

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