322: Chapter 322 Blood Butcher's Fury Rages Upon Hearing the News

Blood Butcher slammed a palm onto the stone platform in the center of the blood pool, and the entire great hall vibrated with a hum.

The pool of essential blood, nurtured for thirty years, "splashed" open, spilling scarlet liquid all over the floor, which crept into the cracks and spread in all directions.

"What did you say?" He stared at the scout kneeling on the ground, his voice so low it sounded like it was crawling out from underground, "The Chen family... turned magic into machines?"

The scout knocked his head against the floor until the back of his head was bleeding: "Re-reporting to the Sect Master... The news from the West Valley is that Chen Xiaodao swung his sword, and a piece of Profound Iron Rock three hundred meters away split in two on the spot, with wood-element spiritual patterns still floating on the cut. They said... that was magic 'invited' over."

"Bullshit!" Blood Butcher jerked his head up, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead, "Magic is the Dao granted by heaven and earth, it is the true intent forged from one's Bloodline! Who gave them the guts to use a pile of scrap metal to 'invite' it?!"

Before the words left his lips, he drew the bone saber at his waist with a "clang" and slashed down with a backhand strike.

Crack!

The hall pillar, thick enough for three men to embrace, snapped in response, and the upper half crashed onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The residual Saber Qi did not diminish, slicing through another pillar, while the third was grazed, leaving a deep groove with cracks spreading all the way to the top beam.

"When I slaughtered my way through seven Sects back in the day, the Chen family was still mining and acting as slaves in the Eastern Wasteland!" Blood Butcher panted, leaning on his saber, his knuckles turning white from excessive force, "And now? They mess around with some mechanism arts, build a few iron lumps, and they think they can touch the Laws of heaven and earth?"

He walked toward the scout step by step; with every step he took, dark red blood seeped from the ground.

"Say it again," he said, "How did they do it?"

The scout trembled like chaff: "It is said that... they used a chip to record the magic melody of the Elf Race, then stuffed it into the sword hilt. As long as the frequency matches, even an ordinary person can use it..."

"Ha." Blood Butcher suddenly let out a laugh, a dry and grating sound, "Recorded? And it can be copied? Does that mean in the future, one can even record a video of Undergoing Tribulation and send it to every Disciple to watch?"

He walked forward again, his boots stepping through the pool of blood, leaving behind damp, red footprints.

"Do you know what I hate the most?" he asked in a low voice, his tone terrifyingly calm.

The scout dared not answer.

"I hate those ants who think they are clever the most." Blood Butcher raised his eyes, his pupils completely dyed crimson, "Clearly born to be trampled underfoot, yet they insist on claiming they can change the world. Ridiculous! Pathetic! And all the more deserving of death!"

He turned abruptly and roared toward the depths of the great hall: "Someone! Bring me seven Blood Talismans! Prepare the wolf-hair brush, soul nails, and the Soul Suppressing Cauldron for me! I want the trash in the entire Eastern Wasteland border to wake up—the Chen family isn't rising, they are seeking death!"

Two black-robed attendants immediately rushed in from outside the door, carrying a bronze box. When opened, seven talismans glowing with a dark light were neatly arranged inside, each one tanned from human skin, with fine blood vessels still visible along the edges.

Blood Butcher grabbed the brush, dipped it in the blood that had just splashed from the blood pool, and wrote on the first talisman: "The Chen family is no longer the waste clan of the past; if we do not join forces, tomorrow will be the graveyard for us both."

His brush paused, he sneered, and added another line: "Since they can make a sword 'invite' magic, I will make their swords remain forever plunged into a mountain of corpses."

The second, the third... He finished writing all seven, and with each one, a drop of essential blood dripped from his fingertip onto the talisman, causing the paper to tremble slightly, as if it were a living thing breathing.

"Go." He rolled up the talismans, stuffed them into bone tubes, and tossed them to the attendants, "Deliver these to Black Ridge, Broken River Stronghold, Gray Plain Camp, Snake Bone Dock, Burning Wind Cave, Skull Splitting Fort, and Bone Burial Slope respectively. They must be delivered within one hour; those who are late will be skinned and have their souls extracted!"

The attendants acknowledged the order and withdrew, their hurried footsteps disappearing at the end of the long corridor.

Blood Butcher stood in place, not moving, looking down at his blood-stained hands.

These hands had killed ten thousand people and absorbed a thousand souls; they had never feared anyone. But now, he felt an indescribable agitation in his heart.

It was not fear of Chen Wuwang.

It was fear of that thing—that thing that could turn the mysterious and profound "Dao" into something that could be mass-produced, copied, and stuffed into iron boxes.

If they were really allowed to continue... who would need to cultivate bitterly for a hundred years in the future? Who would shed blood and risk their lives? An assembly line, a batch of chips, and they could mass-produce Soul Transformation level combat power?

Then what would his Blood River Demonic Art count for?

He relied on slaughter, on devouring, on the position he climbed to by stepping on corpses step by step.

But the Chen family relied on... blueprints.

"No." He gritted his teeth, squeezing two words through his teeth, "They must never be allowed to continue growing, otherwise they will become a great threat!"

He jerked his head up and looked outside the hall.

In the distant sky, a faint halo of spiritual energy was slowly rising; that was the direction of Qiming Plain.

The newly constructed spiritual energy tower had already begun to operate; even from dozens of miles away, one could see that layer of pale blue-white radiance, like a lamp that would never be extinguished.

"You created a sword that can 'invite' magic?" Blood Butcher muttered, a sinister grin splitting his mouth, "Then I will use a million dead souls to dye it red."

He turned around and threw on his black robe; as the hem of the robe fell, it swept across the broken pillars on the ground, making a rustling sound.

"Prepare the carriage," he said, "I want to make a trip to Bone Burial Slope personally."

An old servant hurried over: "Sect Master, the journey is long, would you like to dispatch three Puppets to escort you?"

"No need." Blood Butcher waved his hand, "The ones I am meeting this time are not easy to deal with; bringing too many people will only arouse suspicion. I will go myself."

He strode out of the great hall, his footsteps steady.

When passing the last intact hall pillar, he reached out and touched the deep saber mark on the pillar, his fingertips gently tracing the crack.

"This slash is left for the Chen family." After saying this, he lifted his foot and stepped onto the stone stairs leading underground.

The stairs were deep and dark, the wall lamps on both sides flickering, casting half his face into shadow and the other half glowing with a blood-colored light.

He walked down step by step, his footsteps echoing in the empty passage.

Walking halfway, he suddenly stopped.

He took out a bone token carved with evil patterns from his bosom and held it in his palm.

A faint fluctuation appeared on the token, as if it were some kind of response.

He stared at that point of light and said in a low voice: "Soon."

Then he continued to go down, his figure completely disappearing into the darkness.

At the end of the stairs was a hidden secret passage, leading directly to the Northern Territory of the Eastern Wasteland.

The wind blew in, carrying the scent of rotting soil and rust.

He did not look back, nor did he speak, just gripped the bone token tighter and quickened his pace.

It was very dark ahead.

But he knew that some people were already waiting for him.