The Author's Draft-Chapter 68: Sea of Slaughter I

Long Chen had remained silent throughout Yan Shou’s entire explanation.

When the man mentioned the Upper World, Long Chen had listened quietly, processing the information about a realm he’d written about but never fully explored in his novel.

When Yan Shou spoke of supreme beings and Daos, Long Chen had absorbed the concepts, trying to understand cultivation principles far beyond anything he’d encountered before.

When the guardian explained about the declining Slaughter Line and the test for succession, Long Chen had stayed quiet, thinking through the implications.

But now, he couldn’t help himself.

"Thirty days!?" Long Chen blurted out, his voice cracking slightly with disbelief. "You want me to comprehend an intent—Slaughter Intent—in thirty days? That’s impossible!"

His mind raced frantically. His third-stage Sword Aura had been achieved through a combination of freak accidents and genuine emotional conviction. And even then, he’d had the system’s guidance, Azazel’s knowledge, and Long Chen’s original memories to help him understand sword cultivation.

But Slaughter Intent? Something he’d never heard of until five minutes ago? In thirty days?

"That’s completely impossible," Long Chen repeated, his hands clenching into fists. "No one could—"

Oh, this is rich, Azazel’s voice cut through his thoughts, dripping with amusement. HAHAHAHA! Listen to yourself! ’That’s impossible!’ ’No one could do it!’

Long Chen frowned. "What’s so funny?"

You are. You’re like a frog sitting at the bottom of a well, looking up at a tiny circle of sky and declaring that’s all the world contains. Azazel’s laughter continued. Do you really think an expert at Yan Shou’s level would set conditions that are actually impossible? Someone who has transcended normal cultivation? Someone who serves a supreme being from the Upper World?

"But—"

Listen, you idiot. If he says thirty days, that means it’s difficult but not impossible. And more importantly—

Azazel’s tone shifted, becoming more serious.

—it won’t even be that difficult for you specifically. Because you have two things that will help you comprehend this intent. Two advantages most cultivators don’t possess.

Long Chen’s attention sharpened immediately. "What two things?"

Silence.

"Azazel? What two things?"

More silence. The demon was deliberately withholding information.

"Azazel! Tell me!"

Figure it out yourself. Consider it part of the test.

Long Chen wanted to argue further, but Yan Shou spoke before he could continue.

"Your companion makes a valid point," the guardian said. "The test is difficult, yes. But not impossible. Especially not for you."

He raised his hand, and spiritual energy began gathering in the air before him.

"I’m going to expose you directly to the Slaughter Dao itself. Not my personal understanding of it—that would taint your comprehension with my biases. But the Dao in its purest form, as it exists in the fabric of reality."

The spiritual energy condensed, taking shape—forming into something that looked like a doorway, though the space inside was dark and incomprehensible.

"The rest will be up to your comprehension. Your talent. Your ability to understand what you experience and internalize it as part of your cultivation path."

Yan Shou’s expression grew more serious, all traces of his earlier calm vanishing.

"Succeed in comprehending even the first stage of Slaughter Intent, and you become the designated successor to the Slaughter Line of the Weapon Path. You’ll be acknowledged by the supreme being who created this Tower. You’ll receive his protection, his resources, his teachings. You’ll have backing from the Upper World itself."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"Fail, and the memory of this entire conversation will be taken from your mind. Everything I’ve told you about the Tower’s origin, the Upper World, the Weapon Path, the succession—all of it will be erased as if you never heard it. You’ll remember entering the fortieth floor, fighting the wolf, and then... nothing. Just a blank space where this test should have been." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Yan Shou’s eyes locked onto Long Chen’s.

"That is, if you survive."

"Survive?" Long Chen repeated, a chill running down his spine.

"The Slaughter Dao is not gentle. Exposing yourself directly to it is dangerous. Many cultivators lose themselves when confronted with such primal forces. They become nothing but mindless beasts who live for slaughter and nothing else. Their personalities erased. Their humanity stripped away. Just killing machines wearing human skin."

The guardian’s tone carried genuine warning now.

"If that happens to you, the Tower will terminate your existence. Permanently. No revival, no second chances."

Long Chen, Azazel said urgently. Accept the test.

"What? Why? You heard what he said—I could lose myself completely!"

Because if you succeed, you’ll have backing against those coming to hunt us. Remember what I told you? My ancient enemies—they’re also experts from the Upper World. Divine hunters who will eventually track us down. If you become the successor to the Slaughter Line, if you gain the protection of a supreme being from the Upper World, those hunters will think twice before attacking you.

Azazel’s voice grew more intense.

This is an opportunity that won’t come again. The Tower appears randomly across worlds and only accepts specific people. If you walk away now, you might never get another chance at this kind of backing. And when those divine hunters arrive, you’ll face them alone.

Long Chen took a deep breath.

Azazel was right. The risk was enormous, but the potential reward was equally massive. Protection from the Upper World. A supreme being’s backing. Resources and teachings beyond anything available in the Lower World.

And most importantly—a way to survive the threats coming for them.

"I’ll do it," Long Chen said, looking at Yan Shou directly. "I accept the test."

The guardian nodded, satisfaction flickering across his face. "Good. Then we begin immediately."

He gestured toward the doorway he’d created, the dark space within pulsing with incomprehensible energy.

"Before you enter, understand this: time flows differently within the Slaughter Dao realm. One day in the outside world equals thirty days inside. So while you’ll experience a full month, only one day will pass out here."

Yan Shou’s expression grew grave.

"There are dangers beyond losing yourself. The Dao is not a peaceful place. It will test you. Break you. Rebuild you if you’re strong enough. You’ll experience death repeatedly—not true death, but the sensation of it. The reality of it. Until you understand it intimately."

He paused.

"Use your Sword Aura to guard your mind as you experience the Slaughter Dao. Your third-stage Sword Aura represents your convictions, your sense of self. Let it anchor you. When the Dao threatens to overwhelm you, when the bloodlust becomes too much, hold onto your Sword Aura. It will keep you from losing yourself completely."

Long Chen nodded, gripping Demon Dweller tighter. His Sword Aura flickered around him instinctively, responding to his determination.

"One more thing," Yan Shou said. "Once you enter, I cannot help you. Cannot guide you. Cannot pull you out if things go wrong. You’ll be alone with the Dao until you either comprehend Slaughter Intent or the thirty days expire."

"Understood."

Yan Shou stepped aside, gesturing toward the doorway. "Then go. Face the Slaughter Dao. Prove yourself worthy of the succession."

Long Chen took a breath, steeled his resolve, and walked forward.

As he approached the doorway, he could feel the energy radiating from it—dark, oppressive, carrying the weight of countless deaths. It felt like standing at the edge of an abyss that wanted to devour him.

He didn’t hesitate.

Long Chen stepped through.

The world shifted.

Long Chen found himself standing on a sea.

Not water. Blood.

The ocean beneath his feet was blood-red, stretching endlessly in all directions toward horizons that seemed impossibly far away. The surface was smooth like glass, reflecting nothing, absorbing light rather than casting it back.

Long Chen looked down at his reflection in the blood sea and saw his own face staring back—pale, determined, afraid.

"Azazel?" he called out.

Silence.

"Azazel! Can you hear me?"

Still nothing. Their connection, which had been a constant presence in his mind since the Equal Life Contract, was completely severed. Cut off as if a blade had sliced through the spiritual link between them.

Long Chen was alone.

Before he could process that realization, the sea began to change.

It started churning, the smooth surface breaking apart into waves. Small ripples at first, then larger swells, then massive peaks rising in the distance like mountains of blood reaching toward an empty sky.

Long Chen’s instincts screamed danger.

He summoned his Sword Aura immediately, the third-stage power exploding outward from his body in an invisible wave. The sharp cutting force wrapped around him like armor, creating a barrier between himself and the blood sea.

The first wave hit.

It was massive—a wall of blood fifty meters high rushing toward him with impossible speed. Long Chen braced himself—

The wave crashed down.

The force was overwhelming. Long Chen was pulled under instantly, dragged deep beneath the surface of the blood sea. The Sword Aura around him flickered but held, keeping the blood from touching his skin directly.

He sank deeper and deeper, the pressure increasing with each meter.

Then the blood cleared around him, and Long Chen saw what lay beneath.

A battlefield.

It stretched endlessly in all directions, a landscape of death and violence. But something was wrong with it.

The soldiers fighting weren’t normal. Their faces were incomplete—some had features that looked like rough sketches, half-rendered and undefined. Others had faces that simply stopped halfway, dissolving into blank flesh. Their weapons were equally strange—swords that looked like wireframe models, spears that flickered between solid and transparent, axes that seemed to shift between different designs as if the artist couldn’t decide on a final version.

They were unfinished.

Aiden’s breath caught as recognition hit him like a fist to the gut.

’These are mine.’

Not enemy soldiers. Not manifestations of the Slaughter Dao.

These were characters he’d written and abandoned. Sketches he’d started and never completed. Background soldiers from battle scenes he’d deleted. NPCs from stories that died at Chapter three.

Every single one of them was something he’d created and then discarded when the story didn’t work.

Long Chen materialized on the battlefield, his feet touching solid ground.

Immediately, silence descended.

Every single soldier stopped mid-strike. Every weapon froze in mid-swing. Every incomplete face turned toward Long Chen simultaneously.

Their eyes—the ones that had eyes—were empty. Blank voids where consciousness should have existed. These weren’t people. They were abandoned drafts given form by the Slaughter Dao.

Then they charged.

All of them.

Millions of unfinished soldiers rushed toward Long Chen from every direction, weapons raised, voices howling with something that wasn’t quite rage or bloodlust but something closer to accusation.

The ground shook under their collective footsteps. The air vibrated with their approach.

Long Chen’s heart hammered against his ribs. The sight was hair-raising, terrifying beyond anything he’d experienced before. An entire army of his own abandoned characters converging on him with the single-minded purpose of ending his life.

He looked down at his hands instinctively, reaching for Demon Dweller—

The cursed blade was gone.

Instead, Long Chen held a different sword. Ancient, black as night, with a simple crossguard and worn grip. But the blade itself seemed to absorb light, drinking in the dim illumination of the battlefield.

And inscribed at the base of the blade, where it met the guard, was a single word in characters that burned with red light:

杀 (Slaughter)