The Slaughter King's expression twisted into madness as the Asura Blood Sword descended.
"Die!"
The blood-colored blade tore through the air, carrying enough destructive force to split the entire arena in half. Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing were already at their limit. Their vision blurred, their bodies no longer responding.
There was no time to dodge.
No strength left to resist.
Ning Rongrong's lips parted slightly in exhaustion.
"…Teacher…"
Zhu Zhuqing stood silently beside her, eyes half-closed, accepting the outcome without struggle.
The sword fell.
And then—
The world stopped for a fraction of a second.
Not because the attack slowed.
But because something else had arrived.
A ripple passed through space.
The blood-red domain, the roaring killing intent, even the falling Asura Blood Sword—all of it seemed to hesitate for an instant, as if reality itself had been interrupted.
A figure in a black robe appeared between them.
No dramatic explosion.
No overwhelming pressure at first glance.
Just a single step forward, as if he had always been standing there.
Xin.
He raised one hand slightly.
And in that motion, the surrounding magic structure subtly shifted.
The falling Asura Blood Sword did not immediately shatter—but its trajectory slowed, as if trapped in an invisible layer of layered space and energy interference.
Xin stood calmly in front of Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing.
Then he spoke.
"Enough."
The single word was not loud.
But it carried an undeniable weight that pressed against the entire Slaughter Domain.
The Slaughter King's eyes narrowed instantly.
"…Who are you?"
Xin did not look at him immediately.
Instead, he glanced back at Ning Rongrong.
"You talk too much when you're about to lose," he said lightly.
Ning Rongrong froze for a second.
Then, almost reflexively, she mumbled:
"…I thought I was already dead."
Xin sighed faintly.
"Not yet."
Only then did he turn his gaze toward the Slaughter King.
The black robe shifted slightly as he lifted his hand again.
In his palm, energy condensed—not explosive, not violent, but structured, like something built from pure calculation and creation.
A cleaver-shaped construct formed silently.
Not flashy.
Not ceremonial.
Just simple, complete, and ready.
Xin tilted his head slightly.
"You were saying something about killing my students?"
The air went still.
The Slaughter King's expression darkened completely.
For the first time—
He felt something unfamiliar.
Not injury.
Not rage.
But pressure.
Real, undeniable pressure.
And the battlefield, which had just been dominated by death itself…
Now had a second presence in it.
One that did not belong to Slaughter City at all.