Chapter 213: Emperor Xue Ye's Sacrifice to the Evil God
Heaven Dou Empire, Heaven Dou City, Imperial Prison.
The prison, once looted empty by Yu Xiaogang, was filled with inmates again—but now, those same prisoners lay dead in pools of blood.
Emperor Xue Ye stood silently, expressionless, staring at the corpses and at the book in his hands. Then, picking up a wooden stick wrapped in cloth, he dipped it in the blood and began to draw.
Soon, a strange and ominous magic circle took shape on the floor.
"Primordial God," Xue Ye murmured under his breath, voice laced with anticipation, "let me see if you are truly divine… or an empty legend."
The thought had first stirred when he learned that Yu Xiaogang was an Evil Spirit Master.
If Tang San could ascend to Spirit King within months through the Primordial God's ritual, then could he, Emperor Xue Ye, not reach Titled Douluo through the same means?
That idea had tormented him ever since.
He had studied the Blood Demon Ritual personally. Sacrificing corpses less than twenty-four hours dead—an absolute taboo.
Now, stepping into the center of the circle, Xue Ye began to chant.
As his voice grew steadier, the bodies around him disintegrated one by one, melting into streams of crimson light that surged toward him.
He sat cross-legged within the ritual, his body trembling as power flowed into him. His eyes widened, pupils dilating.
The bottleneck that had bound his spirit power for years loosened. The influx of bloodlight pushed his level upward.
When the ritual ended and all the energy coursed through him, delight broke across his face.
It worked—the Blood Demon Ritual truly worked.
The growth was small, but tangible.
Even with the few prisoners that remained after the looting, the little he had was enough to raise his spirit power. What if he sacrificed more?
A feverish hunger grew within his eyes.
He could already see the day he would ascend to Titled Douluo.
…
In the City of Slaughter, Luo Ling felt the sudden expansion of his divine connection. Everything Xue Ye had done appeared vividly in his mind.
It seemed Emperor Xue Ye had taken the bait of his own accord—Luo Ling hadn't even needed to move yet.
He chuckled softly to himself. He had underestimated the lengths humans would go in pursuit of power.
Especially Emperor Xue Ye—whose inability to reach Titled Douluo rank had long been the Empire's greatest shame.
Otherwise, Heaven Dou Empire would never have treated Dugu Bo with such generosity.
Of course, this was not unique to Heaven Dou. The Star Luo Empire was the same—massive armies, but lacking high-level strength.
Not even mentioning Spirit Hall; even the major sects of the Upper Three Clans could suppress both empires easily.
Luo Ling's smile turned wickedly sharp.
His power had now reached level sixty-eight.
In the City of Slaughter, he hadn't even been training seriously—most of his time spent entangled with Hu Liena. Yet his spirit rank continued to rise rapidly.
All thanks to Yu Xiaogang's zealous expansion of the Primordial Church's followers—and now, even Emperor Xue Ye had stumbled willingly into the pit.
By the time he left the City of Slaughter, reaching level seventy would be practically guaranteed.
Hu Liena, too, would soon break into the Spirit Emperor realm. Conveniently, the Ten-Headed Blazing Sun Serpent of the Hell Road would make the perfect sixth spirit ring for her.
"Wait a minute," Luo Ling suddenly thought, eyes lighting up. "Why don't I spread the Blood Demon Ritual here in the City of Slaughter?"
The idea electrified him.
This city was filled with cutthroats and killers—people who already lived by sin. None of them would reject the Blood Demon Ritual.
And sacrifices? The City of Slaughter was full of them. Every day, bodies piled high.
Why should their deaths feed the city… when they could serve him instead?
Luo Ling began planning immediately.
…
Meanwhile, deep within the City of Slaughter, in a vast, shadowed throne room, a towering figure sat upon a crystalline throne—the King of Slaughter.
"Your Majesty, the Undying and the Emissary of Hell have each completed half their victories. The Hammer Wielder has reached forty," came a cold female voice from the dark.
"I know." The King's expression remained unreadable as he sipped from a glass filled with thick, crimson liquid.
"My King, should we intervene? That Undying one… he's too strange. I don't understand it, but it's as if he truly cannot die!" the veiled woman said anxiously.
"You want to recruit them?" the King asked lazily.
"Yes. It's been a long time since true power entered our city," she said quickly.
The King gave a short, mirthless laugh. "They'll never join us."
"Why not?" she asked in surprise.
"They entered the arena the moment they arrived—and have fought their way through without pause. Do you take them for fools like the rest of the degenerates here?" He swirled his glass slowly. "They came for the Hell Road. Nothing more."
The woman fell silent for a long moment before whispering, "Then what do we do? Three potential Gods of Slaughter appearing at once could bring disaster upon us."
"The Undying and the Emissary of Hell stand behind a killing god—the one from Spirit Hall. The Hammer Wielder too bears the legacy of another god. None of them are people we can touch."
His voice grew colder. "To provoke Spirit Hall would be to invite our own destruction."
"Leave the Undying and the Emissary alone. If they survive the Hell Road, so be it. Spirit Hall won't harm us—they need this place. We've been containing Evil Spirit Masters for years; we've helped them more than once."
"As for the Hammer Wielder…" a trace of disdain entered his tone, "the level of skill he's shown won't be enough to pass the Hell Road anyway."
The King leaned back, voice dripping with scorn.
He'd watched their battles closely. The Undying's abilities were beyond comprehension, even terrifying. The Emissary of Hell was formidable as well—especially with his help. Together, they might actually succeed.
But the Hammer Wielder? He was the weakest by far. A mere hammer and some corrupt Blue Silver Grass—far inferior by comparison.
Even with his elusive movement technique, the King of Slaughter doubted him. His attacks simply lacked power.
"The hammer is just metal, not a martial spirit," he said coldly.
"Let's hope they all fail the Hell Road," he went on quietly. "If they die, it'll be best for everyone. But if new Slaughter Gods appear—one, two, or even three—it will spell calamity for us all."
A crimson gleam burned in his eyes as he spoke, reflecting the darkness around him.
(END CHAPTER)
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