Douluo Continent: The Twin Holy Dragons of Light and Darkness, the Dragon Emperor Breaks Through the

When it saw Ling Feng, it didn't bark or wag its tail; it just stood there, staring at him with its blood-red eyes, making a low growling sound in its throat.

Ling Feng glanced at it, ignored it, and continued walking forward.

The dog didn't follow, but it didn't leave either. It just stood there until Ling Feng's figure disappeared into the twilight, then it turned and ran in the opposite direction.

On the twentieth day, Ling Feng walked into a swamp.

The swamp was vast and shrouded in mist, obscuring the path even ten steps ahead.

The mud underfoot was soft and spongy, making a squelching sound as you stepped on it, like stepping on rotten meat.

The air was filled with a pungent, putrid stench, a mixture of sulfur and rust.

His spiritual power was suppressed in this swamp, and he could only extend his spiritual energy a dozen or so feet.

It took him two whole days to walk out of that swamp.

At the end of the swamp lies a wasteland, barren of vegetation, its ground a dark gray, as if scorched by a fire.

The sky is always shrouded in a layer of gray clouds, obscuring the sun, stars, and moon.

There is neither night nor day here, only an eternal, suffocating grayness.

On the twenty-fifth day, Ling Feng arrived at a black river.

The river was wide and the current was rapid. The water was black, not a muddy black, but a bottomless black that seemed to swallow all light.

There was no bridge or boat on the river, only a stone pillar standing in the middle of the river, with four large blood-red characters carved on it—"Slaughter City".

Ling Feng stood by the river, looking at those four words.

His spiritual power probed into the river water, sensing the dense, twisted, and struggling souls deep at the bottom of the river.

The souls were wailing, cursing, and weeping.

Sensing Ling Feng's spiritual power, they rushed towards him like moths drawn to light.

Countless translucent hands reached out from the river and grabbed at him.

Ling Feng unleashed the power of the Holy Dragon of Light, and a silvery-white light erupted from his body, illuminating the entire river and the twisted souls within.

The souls screamed and shrank back to the bottom of the river.

A city appeared on the other side of the river.

The city was vast, with black walls that soared into the clouds. The walls were covered with blood-red runes that flickered in the darkness, like beating hearts.

The city gates were wide open, but it was pitch black inside, and you couldn't see anything.

We've arrived in the City of Slaughter.

Ling Feng stood at the city gate and glanced at the stone tablet engraved with the words "Slaughter City".

The stone tablet was covered in moss, and some of the characters were already blurred, but the intense killing intent still emanated from the tablet, like an invisible hand gripping its throat.

He did not unleash the power of the Holy Dragon of Light, nor the Holy Dragon of Darkness; he simply entered the city as an ordinary person.

There is no light in the city.

The street was narrow, with densely packed houses on both sides, some built of stone, some of wood, and some just sheds pieced together from sheet metal and planks.

The streets were full of people—no, not people, but things that used to be people.

They were ragged, emaciated, with sunken eyes that held no light, only a numb, empty, dead-like light.

They saw Ling Feng but didn't react at all, as if they hadn't seen him, and continued doing their own thing—some squatted in the corner, some leaned against the wall, some lay on the ground, some were fighting, and some were killing.

Ling Feng walked down the street, past the numb crowds, past the piles of bones, past the flowing blood.

He didn't use his staff, nor did he use the power of the Holy Dragon of Light, nor did he even release his soul power.

He simply walked, like an ordinary traveler, through this extraordinary city.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, a tall building appeared ahead.

The building was constructed entirely of black stone, with its doors wide open and two warriors clad in blood-red armor standing at the entrance.

When they saw Ling Feng, they didn't stop him; they just glanced at him as if he were a piece of merchandise.

Ling Feng walked into the building.

Inside was a huge hall with a ring in the center. The ring was surrounded by people, men and women, young and old, some dressed in fine clothes, some in tattered clothes, some with gleaming eyes, and some with numb expressions.

Their eyes were all on the ring.

There were people fighting in the ring, a bald, burly man and a skinny young man.

The bald, burly man's martial spirit was an armored rhinoceros, possessing immense strength; every step he took made the arena vibrate. The skinny youth's martial spirit was a wind wolf, incredibly fast, weaving and darting around like a gray shadow.

Ling Feng stood at the entrance of the hall, looking at the arena.

He neither sat down nor left; he simply stood there, watching the fight.

The bald, burly man punched the skinny young man in the chest, sending him flying backward and crashing to the edge of the ring, spitting out blood.

The bald, burly man walked over, stomped on the thin young man's head, and crushed it hard. The thin young man's head shattered like a watermelon, and blood splattered everywhere.

The entire stadium erupted in cheers.

Ling Feng's face remained expressionless.

He turned and walked out of the building.

On his first day in the killing city, he had no lodging, no food, and no water.

He walked along the streets, from one street to another, and from one street to the next.

This is the city of slaughter.

There is no order, no law, no morality here, only power.

The next day, Ling Feng found a seat in a run-down tavern.

The tavern was dark, with only a few oil lamps casting a dim, yellowish light that made everyone's faces look like ghosts.

The tavern wasn't crowded; people sat in twos and threes, drinking, eating meat, and talking quietly.

Ling Feng ordered a pot of wine, but didn't drink it; he just placed it on the table and looked at it.

His mental energy permeated the entire tavern, listening to the conversations of the people there.

"I heard that the king has been in a bad mood lately and has killed two more of his servants."

"When has Wang ever been in a good mood? What does his mood have to do with us? He's not coming out anyway."

"That's not necessarily true. Someone challenged him yesterday and was torn in two."

"Who's so bold?"

"He's new here, I don't know him. I heard he's a Contra player. He just entered the city and was already shouting that he wanted to challenge the King. In the end, he was crippled by the guards at the gate before he even saw the King."

Ling Feng tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

"Where is the king?" he asked.

The person next to him glanced at him, their eyes full of wariness.

"who are you?"

Ling Feng looked at him.

"The person asking for directions."

The man was silent for a moment, then gestured towards a direction deep inside the tavern.

"Do you see that tallest tower? The king is there."

Ling Feng followed his gaze and saw a tower through the dilapidated window of the tavern.

The tower was very tall, entirely black, with its spire piercing the clouds. There were no windows on the tower, only a tightly closed iron door.

It stands in the center of the killing city, like a black nail driven into the very heart of the city.

Ling Feng stood up, put down a few gold soul coins, and walked out of the tavern.

Chapter 195: The Battle Begins

He walked toward the tower.

People on the street made way for him when they saw the direction he was going; no one followed, and no one spoke.

They just stared at him, with those numb, empty, dead-like eyes.

Ling Feng ignored them and simply walked away.

When he reached the tower, he saw the iron gate.

The iron gate was very large, about three zhang high and two zhang wide, and it was covered with blood-red runes, which contained a powerful killing intent.

Ling Feng reached out and pushed the door open.

The door didn't move.

He pushed again, but the door still wouldn't budge.

Ling Feng withdrew his hand, looked at the iron gate, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke.

"Tang Chen".

His voice wasn't loud, but in the quiet city, it was as clear as a bell, echoing through the streets.

A deep voice sounded from behind the iron gate.

"who are you?"

"A thousand years of soaring winds."

There was a moment of silence behind the iron gate.

"do not know."

"You don't need to know me. You just need to know that I'm here to kill you."

Silence fell again behind the iron gate.

Then, the iron gate slowly opened.