81: Chapter 81 Killing God

"He is not cultivating the Blood Qi martial path; he is accumulating Blood Qi through slaughter."

"He doesn't need cultivation techniques, and he doesn't need anyone to teach him."

"He only needs to kill. The more he kills, the stronger his Blood Qi becomes. The stronger his Blood Qi, the stronger his body. The stronger his body, the more he kills."

"This is a cycle, a self-sufficient perpetual motion machine that requires no external input."

"He doesn't need the Holy Court. But the Holy Court needs him."

Lu Zhiyi fell silent.

Looking at the figure in the distance, she asked, "Bishop, what if he doesn't want to join the Holy Court?"

Bishop Qin Cang smiled. "He will join."

...

At this moment, Wang Lin was covered in blood.

Black blood, dark red blood, his own blood.

Su Tang, standing to the side, watched him and unconsciously wiped her forehead. "It's a good thing I didn't kill him back then, otherwise, it might have been me who died."

Wang Lin's expression was ferocious, his eyes cold.

The Mist Beasts surrounding him stopped in their tracks.

Their instincts told them: This thing cannot be eaten; eating it means death.

Wang Lin looked at those Mist Beasts and suddenly smiled; it was a cold smile.

He took a step forward.

The Mist Beasts took a step back.

He took another step forward.

The Mist Beasts took another step back.

Not one, not ten, but a whole horde.

A black tide receded before a single person.

Those who had previously mocked Wang Lin were no longer laughing.

It wasn't that they didn't want to laugh; it was that they couldn't.

Because they witnessed a scene they would never forget for the rest of their lives:

A LV3 Reserve Member, covered in blood, with Tentacles growing from his back, forcing back a horde of Mist Beasts all by himself.

Not relying on aura, not relying on rank, but relying on slaughter.

Relying on the countless corpses lying at his feet.

Someone whispered, "Is he a human or a monster?"

No one answered, because no one knew the answer.

Wang Lin ignored those gazes.

His gaze fell into the distance, toward the center of the formation, where the battlefield for the Silver Badge and Copper Badge holders was.

There were more Mist Beasts there, larger Mist Beasts, stronger Mist Beasts.

The lowest-level beast was the same level as him, LV3.

The highest level was LV8, five levels higher than him.

He strode in that direction.

The people around him retreated, not because they were ordered to, but out of instinct.

Like a flock of sheep seeing a wolf enter the pen, they retreated on their own without any warning.

Someone watched him, mouth slightly agape, forgetting to close it.

Someone watched him, eyes wide, their pupils reflecting that monster-like figure.

Someone watched him, subconsciously touching their own neck, as if confirming their head was still there.

Wang Lin didn't look at them; his gaze was fixed on the Mist Beasts, and he licked his lips.

The battlefield in the center of the formation was completely different from the outer perimeter.

The Mist Beasts on the perimeter were those that had slipped through the sieve ahead.

Small, weak, worthless...

Their levels ranged from LV3 to LV8, and their sizes ranged from calves to trucks.

Their attack methods ranged from biting, charging, spitting, to mental attacks.

Varied and unpredictable.

Wang Lin stood at the edge of the battlefield, not rushing in.

He was watching.

Watching the distribution of the Mist Beasts, watching their attack rhythm, looking for their weaknesses.

He was calculating.

Calculating which were worth killing and which were not.

He directly excluded anything above LV6.

It wasn't that he couldn't kill them, but it wasn't worth it.

The time required to kill one LV6 was enough for him to kill ten LV4s.

Yet the Blood Qi gained was only enough for five LV4s; the cost-effectiveness was too low.

He wasn't fighting right now; he was feeding.

When feeding, one must eat the most cost-effective food.

He moved.

Not rushing into the center of the beast tide, but prowling along the edges.

Like a shark patrolling the edge of a school of fish, looking for those straggling, injured, or weak prey.

He found an LV3; its Speed was high, but its defense was weak.

Tentacles pierced in from the side, penetrating its skull.

He found an LV4; it had strong defense, but its attack method was singular.

A fist enhanced by Petrification smashed onto its spine.

He found an LV5; it was large, with balanced Speed, strength, and defense.

He didn't fight it head-on; Tentacles wrapped around its hind leg, tripping it, and then he smashed a fist into its throat.

He didn't touch anything above LV6.

Those big guys were covered in thick scales; Tentacles couldn't pierce them, and his fists couldn't smash them.

Killing them required time, technique, and a large consumption of energy.

Even if he killed them, the Blood Qi gained wouldn't be enough to compensate for the consumption. It wasn't worth it.

Those who had previously mocked Wang Lin were no longer laughing.

They watched Wang Lin prowling along the edge of the battlefield, like a shark, like a leopard.

Every strike he made was precise, every kill clean.

No wasted movements, no wasted energy, no hesitation, no fear.

Someone whispered, "How many has he killed exactly?"

The person next to them shook their head, "Don't know, at least... two hundred."

Another chimed in, "Two hundred, all LV3 to LV5."

"He's a LV3 Reserve Member, and he's killed two hundred LV3 to LV5 Mist Beasts. Who among you could do that?"

No one answered. Because no one could do it.

More and more people noticed Wang Lin.

Not because he was strong, but because he was too conspicuous.

A LV3 Reserve Member, on a battlefield of LV3 to LV8, killing faster and more ruthlessly than the Silver Badge holders.

He stood there like a lamp, blindingly bright.

People started asking about his name, asking about his background.

Someone secretly gave him a nickname: God of Slaughter.

Not because of how many Mist Beasts he killed, but because of his method of killing.

Not fighting, not brawling, not risking his life. It was slaughtering.

Like a butcher walking into a The Slaughterhouse, picking up a knife, one strike per kill, one strike per kill, expressionless, unhurried,

As if doing a job that required no thought.

This nickname spread through the crowd like the wind.

From the Copper Badge holders to the Silver Badge holders, from the Silver Badge holders to the Gold Badge holders.

Some said he was a God of Slaughter, some said he was a monster, some said he was the Twelve Zodiacs' secret weapon, some said he was a demon that crawled out of hell.

Wang Lin didn't know this, nor did he care. He was just killing.

Killing those Mist Beasts, absorbing their essence and blood, growing stronger, then killing again, absorbing again, growing stronger again.

The slaughter had been going on for a day.

From early morning to noon, from noon to dusk, from dusk to late night.

The blood on the ground had converged into small streams, flowing from high ground to low ground, from the battlefield to the stone gate.

The inscriptions on the stone gate were absorbing the blood, and the inscriptions were becoming brighter and brighter.

But the powerhouses from the major factions all frowned.

The time of slaughter was too short.

It had only lasted for one day and one night.