Batian Martial Soul

Ling Xiao caught it with his hand and scanned it with his divine sense. The fifty source crystals inside the bag were glowing with a rich, dark purple light. Their quality was much higher than his original ten crystals, and the energy they contained was also much purer. In addition, his black iron token was lying quietly inside.

He nodded in satisfaction, put the animal skin bag into his storage ring, shouldered the black knife, turned and left, leaving behind a cold sentence that echoed on the arena: "If you dare to withhold money again, it won't be as simple as just asking for source crystals."

The old man watched his retreating figure, trembling with rage, but could only clench his fists tightly, nearly spitting out a mouthful of blood... He could only swallow this loss today!
The audience below the stage was already in an uproar.

"My God! Ling Xiao is too fierce! He even dared to beat up the head steward!"

"Demonic cultivators are indeed terrifying; who can withstand their ruthlessness?"

"From now on, the Blood Battle Arena will likely have one more ruthless character..."

Zhang Ming stood in the crowd, his face filled with shock, muttering, "This madman... he actually succeeded?"

Ling Xiao nodded in satisfaction, put the animal skin bag into his storage ring, then clasped his hands in a fist salute to the ashen-faced old man, his smile dazzlingly bright, yet his tone undisguisedly mocking:
"Thank you very much for your 'careful guidance' and for your 'generous gift'! I have benefited greatly from your teachings today, and if I have any further questions in the future, I will definitely come back to ask you for advice!"

The word "please advise" was emphasized heavily, clearly a blatant threat.

Having said that, he completely ignored the old man's almost solidified rage in his eyes, turned around, and leaped off the stage.

With a black knife slung over his shoulder and his clothes stained with blood, he walked steadily towards Zhang Ming in the distance, under the gaze of countless people filled with shock, awe, and fear... At this moment, Zhang Ming was no longer anxious as before, but only had a blank expression on his face, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

Only after Ling Xiao's figure completely disappeared from sight did Lin Lang on the arena suddenly wave his sleeve, unleashing a powerful burst of energy that sent the scattered stones flying backward, crashing into the edge of the arena with a dull thud.

His face was so dark it could drip ink, and his aura was turbulent, but in the end he didn't dare to chase after him... That kid's demonic aura was too evil, and if it really came down to a fight to the death, he might not be able to gain the upper hand.

The audience below remained silent, no one daring to utter a sound and risk offending them.

However, a burning light quietly ignited in the eyes of many newcomers who had their source crystals withheld... It turns out that the "rules" of this Blood Arena are not unbreakable!

In the distance, Zhang Ming watched Ling Xiao approach step by step, his Adam's apple bobbing several times, his voice filled with disbelief and trembling, even tinged with undisguised envy:
"You...you really got the Source Crystals back? And you even got forty more? That's Lin Lang! He's been a tyrant on the Blood Battle Arena for decades, and no one has ever dared to cause him any trouble afterward!"

Ling Xiao tossed the black iron storage ring over, his tone indifferent: "Here you go. I'll keep the healing medicine and miscellaneous items inside; I haven't touched the rest."

Zhang Ming instinctively caught the storage ring, his fingertips touching the cold metal, a mix of emotions welling up inside him.

He suddenly realized that he had been terribly wrong to label Ling Xiao as a "hothead"... This was not recklessness at all, but a kind of insane, unyielding heart of a strongman that no one would allow to trample on!
Only the truly strong dare to seek justice for themselves in this oppressive and tyrannical place!
Ling Xiao ignored his thoughts and looked up into the depths of the suspended arena.

There, amidst swirling clouds and mist, the outlines of several taller and more magnificent battle platforms could be vaguely seen, exuding an even stronger aura of slaughter, as if summoning the bravest warriors.

He licked his slightly chapped lips, his eyes burning with a fierce fighting spirit that almost burst from their sockets...

Struggle?
This is just the beginning!
The road ahead will require him to carve out a path to survival in this desperate situation with every punch, kick, sword, and blade, and to fight his way out in this deathmatch arena, so as to win an unparalleled opportunity for himself and the hope of leaving this place!
……

At the same time, Lin Lang, the deacon of the Death Arena, after confirming that no one was following him, dared not delay for a moment. His figure turned into a blur and sped toward the only remaining intact and majestic stone city in the center of the ruins.

The stone city is built of dark, massive stones, with walls hundreds of feet high. It is covered with the marks of time, yet it still exudes an aura of majesty that suppresses heaven and earth. It is the core of this desolate land... the City of Absolute Spirit.

Deep within Stone City, in front of a majestic black iron hall, Lin Lang was stopped by two guards shrouded in black robes.

The guard, whose black robe was embroidered with ferocious beast head patterns, stood as still as a statue, his aura deep and unfathomable, his voice hoarse as if grinding metal: "The city lord is receiving guests. All irrelevant persons, leave!"

Lin Lang immediately bowed deeply, his posture extremely humble, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead: "Please trouble you two to inform me that I, Lin Lang, the steward of the Absolute Spirit Death Arena, have a matter of utmost importance concerning the safety of the Absolute Land and request an audience with the City Lord!"

The two guards did not react at all, as if they had not heard him. They remained standing still, their black robes fluttering in the wind, exuding a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay.

Lin Lang was extremely anxious, but dared not utter a single complaint. He hesitated for a moment, then could only whisper again, "This subordinate understands. I will wait here for the city lord's summons."

Having said that, he retreated into the shadow of the pillars, clenching his hands tightly, his mind churning with turmoil.

Just now on the arena, he originally intended to use his deacon authority to set up a deadly trap for Ling Xiao in the subsequent death match, so that the arrogant brat would die without a burial place.

But at the last moment, the intuition he had honed over decades of teetering on the edge of life and death made him forcefully suppress his impulse... That kid is too strange!

That terrifying, soul-corroding demonic intent, along with that unpredictable and deadly fighting style, is something that young disciples from ordinary forces could never possess.

In this dangerous and dangerous place, some people are stepping stones that can be trampled on at will, while others... once provoked, will become a death warrant that will bring them to their doom!

He must find out Ling Xiao's true background before making any plans!

Inside the dark iron hall, the light was dim, with only a few ancient bronze lamps hanging from the beams and pillars, casting long, swaying shadows. The hall was silent except for the soft simmering of boiling tea.

At the head of the table sat a woman dressed in a long blue dress with cloud patterns.

Her appearance was exceptionally beautiful, her skin as white as snow, yet her brows carried an air of authority and aloofness born of someone long accustomed to a high position. Her eyes were calm and unwavering, as if they could see into the depths of one's heart. She was none other than Lin Muying, the mistress of this city of Jueling.

Sitting opposite her in the guest seat was a woman dressed in purple.

She leaned back in her chair, her posture languid and casual, her fingertips idly fiddling with the rim of her teacup, a faint smile playing on her lips. She was none other than Qingluan, who had once had a brief encounter with Ling Xiao.

"Qingluan," Lin Muying broke the silence first, her voice soft yet carrying undeniable weight, "If you think about it carefully, it's been a full fifty years since we last met, hasn't it?" (End of Chapter)