Chapter 1146: Slaughter Palace

Dark red robes rubbed against the rough rock wall, emitting a faint rustling sound. Han Wuxian followed the path indicated by the Star-Sealing Token, making his way through the ever denser seven‑color toxic miasma. A faint light flickered on the token's surface, forming a thin dark red halo around him that barely pushed back the invading miasma by about a foot. The deeper he went, the dimmer the light became; the rancid, sweet slaughter‑qi in the air almost solidified, and each breath felt like a needle‑prick.

Traces of artificial excavation began to appear around him. Rough stone steps wound upward, and on the rock walls on either side he could occasionally see skull lanterns inlaid with ghostly green phosphorescent fire, casting light on the carved twisted demon motifs on the walls, adding a touch of gloom. The figures of patrolling Heavenly Slaughter Sect disciples grew more numerous; most hurried along with cold expressions, slaughter‑qi swirling around them.

Han Wuxian lowered his head, imitating the disciples' aloof, arrogant bearing, and relying on the Star‑Sealing Token and the head‑disciple's uniform he wore, no one stepped forward to question him. The Return to the Void Sword Body strained to conceal its aura, reducing his presence to a minimum, like a drop of water merging into a polluted stream. He carefully avoided those whose aura was obviously strong, especially several whose slaughter‑qi had nearly solidified—clearly minor leaders at late Foundation Establishment or even False Golden Core.

The lamp‑mark on his brow continuously sent a clear sensation of heat, pointing the way; it basically matched the faint indication of the Star‑Sealing Token, both aiming at the looming, ferocious black palace half‑visible high on the cliff—the Heavenly Slaughter Sect's central stronghold here, the Slaughter Palace.

The closer he drew, the more he could feel the terrifying pressure emanating from the palace. It was not a simple suppression of cultivation, but a chaotic aura mixed with the wails of countless resentful spirits, the congealing of slaughter‑qi, and… a trace of a star‑cry forcibly twisted and suppressed. The star‑torch stone in his bosom trembled uneasily; its bluish‑gray light struggled beneath his robe to resist the outside corruption.

At the end of the path lay a huge platform carved entirely from obsidian. Along its edge stood several hideous stone demon statues, their mouths pouring endless filthy blood that flowed down into the bottomless blood pool below. A bone bridge spanned the pool, leading to the Slaughter Palace's towering gate—several zhang high and built from countless white bones pieced together.

Before the palace gate, guards stood in grim formation. Eight cultivators clad in blood‑colored heavy armor, their auras clearly at Foundation Establishment or higher, lined up on either side like motionless statues; only their eyes occasionally shifted beneath the helmet shadows, scanning every approaching figure. Above the gate hung a huge bronze mirror, its surface murky yet emitting a probing fluctuation that made the heart pound.

Han Wuxian's steps hesitated slightly as he fell in behind a patrol of disciples about to cross the bone bridge into the palace, lowering his eyelids, his heartbeat steady as usual. He knew the greatest test had arrived.

Sure enough, when the troop reached the palace gate, that murky bronze mirror suddenly shot down a hazy column of light that engulfed the whole group.

"Humm—" the mirror's surface rippled; the light column swept over each disciple. Han Wuxian felt a cold, murky divine sense sweep over him, lingering for a moment on the Star‑Sealing Token at his waist and his aura. He fully activated the Return to the Void Sword Body, imitating the yin‑cold slaughter‑qi of the Heavenly Slaughter Sect's cultivation method, and suppressed his cultivation to the level of early Foundation Establishment.

The bronze mirror's light flickered a few times, seemingly detecting nothing abnormal, then slowly withdrew.

The guard captain, a Foundation Establishment‑late cultivator with a scar across his face, waved his hand indifferently: "Go on, move quickly! The Sect Master is at the crucial moment of Slaughter Refining—do not disturb him!"

The troop passed smoothly through the palace gate. Han Wuxian's mind eased a little as he followed the group into the interior of the Slaughter Palace.

Inside lay another scene. The light was even dimmer, the air thick with an unbearable bloody stench and a strange, burnt‑metal odor. The vast interior of the palace was divided into countless winding passages and stone chambers; the walls were studded with more skulls burning with ghostly green phosphorescent fire, illuminating the walls with even more intricate and aberrant murals and runes. Countless disciples and laborers bustled about—some hauling huge ore soaked in the blood pool, others sitting in meditation before objects flashing with evil light in the chambers, practicing Slaughter Refining. The whole palace resembled a huge, busy evil beehive.

Han Wuxian slipped away from the troop unnoticed, moving swiftly along a relatively secluded side corridor. The burning sensation at his brow peaked here, like a red‑hot branding iron, clearly pointing him toward deeper, lower regions of the palace.

He avoided crowded places, relying on the Return to the Void Sword Body's extreme sensitivity to energy fluctuations to evade one obvious or hidden restriction trap after another. The passage sloped ever downward, the air grew ever hotter, and the stone walls on either side began to take on the vitreous quality of having been scorched by high temperature. The busy disciples around him dwindled, replaced by sealed chambers emitting stronger energy fluctuations and painful howls—evidently places where sect elders or core disciples cultivated and forged artifacts.

Finally he stopped at the end of a dead‑end alley. Before him lay a smooth, mirror‑like black stone wall that seemed to offer no further passage. Yet the blazing sensation at his brow and the resonance of the star‑torch stone clearly told him his goal lay just beyond this wall!

He examined the stone wall closely. Its surface bore no seams or runes; it was a seamless whole. Yet he could sense that behind it lay an extremely powerful hidden restriction and spatial barrier.

Forcing it open? The commotion would be too great—he'd be exposed instantly.

He tried pressing the Star‑Sealing Token against the wall. The token grew slightly warm, but the wall gave no response. Evidently, the authority required here far exceeded what a token held by a Foundation Establishment‑level leader could unlock.

Just as he was pondering a countermeasure,

footsteps and voices came from the other end of the passage, rapidly approaching!

Han Wuxian's eyes narrowed; his form instantly melted into a deep shadow beside the stone wall, his aura vanishing completely.

The two who arrived were cultivators. One wore the blood‑trimmed robes of a core disciple, his cultivation at late Foundation Establishment, his expression arrogant. The other was a gaunt old man in steward's garb, his cultivation only at the peak of the Lianqi Phase, trailing behind with bows and scrapes.

"Senior Brother Zhu, rest assured—this newly arrived batch of Blood Marrow Crystal is of the highest quality, all freshly mined from the core region of Starfall Valley, rich in slaughter‑qi, and will surely bring your Blood Slaughter Blade to the next level!" the old man fawned.

Senior Brother Zhu grunted, apparently pleased, walked up to the smooth stone wall, took out a token darker in hue, almost black‑red, and pressed it against a spot on the wall.

Hum—

The stone wall rippled silently like water, revealing an opening just wide enough for one person to pass through, from which a more intense heat and a faint red glow seeped out.

"Wait here!" Senior Brother Zhu ordered, then stepped inside. The ripple in the stone wall quickly smoothed over after he entered.

Opportunity!

At the very instant the ripple in the stone wall was about to vanish completely! The Han Wuxian hidden in the shadow moved!

He pushed his speed to the limit, like an intangible wraith, and at the critical moment clung tightly to the closing ripple, slipping through soundlessly!

The whole affair took place in the flash of flint and steel; even the Lianqi Phase old man at the doorway merely felt his vision blur, as if a breeze had brushed past, blinked doubtfully, saw nothing, and chalked it up to underground slaughter‑wind.

Beyond the wall lay a downward spiral staircase, temperature extreme, air warping, the stone walls scorched crimson. At its end stood a huge cavern, like a purgatory!

In the cavern's center boiled a seething pool of viscous dark‑red magma—a blood pool! Around it thick pipes of metal and bone continuously poured in energy laden with complex slaughter‑qi and faint star power. Something seemed buried at the pool's bottom, emitting a throb that made the heart pound.