In the midst of the storm of madness and cheers in the Devil's Bite Chain Arena, the statue-like Zhi Xuan moved. His movement was slow, like a rock being forced to shift.

  His nearly static Blood Whirlwind suddenly surged back, but its rotation was no longer filled with maniacal killing intent; it now spun with a deadly and measured calmness. The Azure Holy Flame at the tips of his blood blades, which had been purple-red, now returned to a pure, cold, and purifying dark-purple.

  The blood-red flash in Zhi Xuan’s eyes was completely withdrawn, leaving behind a sharp and unpredictable pure sapphire. However, the subtle red circle, the mark of his Dao’s integration with the Devil’s efficiency, remained. He did not reject cruelty; he controlled the reason for that cruelty.

  Zhi Xuan bowed his head, his breath escaping in a thin white mist, ignoring the Arena Guide's shouting and the audience's confusion. He felt the new and old wounds on his body—shattered ribs, four gashes on his waist—but the pain was now just information, not a command.

  He had broken through the realm to the Blood Transformation Eclipse Phase, and he would utilize every essence of his strength. Not to satisfy the wild cheers, but to fulfill a promise.

  "Not a vessel of hatred," Zhi Xuan muttered, his voice barely audible in the noisy arena, yet containing a resolve that carved stone. "But an anchor of warmth."

  He looked up, his sapphire-ringed-red eyes gazing coldly at the eleven arena slaves crawling away. In his eyes, they were no longer a 'harvest' to satisfy his Devil Soul, but Blood Crystals needed to protect his village.

  Zhi Xuan raised his right hand. His Eclipse Phase Blood Whirlwind Sword Formation, spinning with astonishing essence density, hovered above his palm. He did not attack frontally.

  With precise Essence control, a hallmark of a cultivator not driven by emotion, Zhi Xuan broke his Blood Whirlwind.

  WHIRLL! WHIRLL!

  Eleven small blood sword blades, condensed to be as hard as heavenly iron and shrouded in dark-purple fire, shot into the air. They did not move in a wave, but in eleven separate trajectories, targeting the head and heart of every arena slave attempting to flee.

  This was an attack of absolute precision, an attack driven by controlled efficiency, not madness.

  SHIING! SHIING! SHIING!

  Like arrows shot by a Heavenly Archer, the eleven blood sword blades reached their targets. There were no screams or resistance. The arena slaves, who had just felt horror and the hope of escape, fell in complete silence. Each blade pierced a vital point with deadly accuracy.

  Eleven new Blood Crystals formed in the pools of blood, shining with a faint light, as if grateful that their suffering had ended.

  Silence descended upon the Devil's Bite Chain Arena. It was not the silence of shock, but a silence filled with pure horror. They had witnessed a massacre, but it was performed with cold technical beauty. It was mass murder conducted with the precision of a Black-Haired Devil.

  Zhi Xuan, without looking at the corpses, recalled his blood sword blades. The blades spun around his hand, radiating pure black jade essence. He was no longer bathed in blood; he was now stained with pure essence.

  He turned toward Jue Mu, who now stood stiffly at the edge of the arena, his single eye wide with disbelief and fear.

  "The harvest is complete," Zhi Xuan said, his voice cold and absolute. "Twenty-two Blood Crystals. I collect my spiritual stone promise.”

  Jue Mu flinched. Twenty-two Blood Crystals. Seven from strong opponents, fifteen from the arena slaves just annihilated in one arena session. It was the largest harvest the Arena had ever seen in one night. However, what petrified him was not the quantity, but the absolute control of the slaughter.

  "Twenty-two... Blood Crystals," Jue Mu repeated, his voice hoarse. He let out a laugh that sounded like dry bones rubbing together. The measured cruelty was far more frightening than the Deathbringer's madness.

  The horror in the stands finally erupted. Not into cheers, but into howls of madness. The cultivators, accustomed to spurting blood and tearing flesh, were shaken by the cold efficiency of the mass killing.

  "This... this is the real fight!" an Organ Transformation cultivator roared, his voice hoarse with emotion. He was not shouting with joy, but with profound fear. "He is a controlled killing machine! He has surpassed savagery!"

  "Twenty-two Blood Crystals in one hour! Not even a Consciousness Transformation veteran could perform such an efficient harvest!" another exclaimed, his eyes filled with disturbed cultivation passion.

  The wild cheers that ensued were a mix of admiration for strength and horror at the intent. They no longer saw a youth; they saw the Manifestation of the Devil Dao born in the Arena.

  The Arena Guide, whose arm was still writhing as if the dragon in the tattoo wanted to escape, took a moment to regain control of his voice. His red dragon tattoo now looked pale under his skin.

  "Finished! The Devil's Harvest is complete! Twenty-two Blood Crystals! The Black-Haired Devil has fulfilled his promise!" the Arena Guide roared, forcing enthusiasm. However, his voice trembled, and he dared not look into Zhi Xuan's eyes. "He is a new legend! Tonight, the Devil's Bite Chain Arena has given birth to a Devil controlled by a will of steel!"

  The cheers exploded again, but this time there was a different resonance—a hidden note of submission and dread behind the admiration. The bookmakers, who were previously calculating their insane profits, now exchanged anxious glances. They saw the potential for limitless wealth, but also the potential for ruin.

  "That is not the Black-Haired Devil," muttered an old bookmaker whose hand trembled as he counted the pile of Spiritual Stones. "That is the Herald of Devil. He does not fight for passion; he fights for purpose. And that is far more terrifying."

  The name spread rapidly through the crowd, embedded in their bloodthirsty souls. They had witnessed savagery, but witnessing cruelty controlled by a will of steel and perfect calculation was an experience that changed their perspective on the Devil Path.

  "The Herald of Devil! The Herald of Devil!" The roar was now mixed with the new epithet, a deeper recognition of this newly born entity.

  Zhi Xuan, surrounded by the calmly spinning Blood Whirlwind, allowed the epithet to sink into him. The Herald of Devil—the Devil’s Emissary. It was a name that was cold, cruel, and efficient. A name that publicly validated his path forged by necessary blood and cruelty.

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  Zhi Xuan lifted his chin, his sapphire-ringed-red gaze sweeping the stands, his eyes not focused on the audience, but on the spiritual stones now doubled by Jue Mu's promise. He did not reject the epithet. The epithet, like the red cloth and the Heart-Nourishing Jade, was part of his new destiny. The path he took indeed required cold bloodshed and a deadly epithet.

  Zhi Xuan, without blinking, allowed his Blood Whirlwind to vanish. He stepped forward, walking past the pools of blood and the eleven corpses he had just created. The smell of copper, thick blood, and foul essence no longer bothered him. He only looked towards Jue Mu, who was now hastily collecting the twenty-two Blood Crystals with trembling hands.

  Jue Mu, the one-eyed man, no longer radiated relaxed greed. He now moved with professional fear. The newly harvested Blood Crystals shone in his sack, a fortune stained by cold efficiency.

  "All Blood Crystals will be cashed," Zhi Xuan commanded, his voice cold and absolute. "And all the betting promises you made—doubled—must be fulfilled, Jue Mu. I do not have time for negotiations."

  Jue Mu's face twitched. He knew that deceiving a cultivator like this, especially one who had just broken through the realm in public, was courting death.

  "Of course, Herald of Devil," Jue Mu replied, using the epithet carefully. "We will honor every bet. The total amount of Spiritual Stones collected is immense. The collected bets... Thirty thousand three hundred low-grade Spiritual Stones from bets, and twenty-two Blood Crystals."

  Thirty thousand three hundred Spiritual Stones. This amount, if converted to mid-grade Spiritual Stones, was a significant sum, enough to buy at least one mid-grade High-Tier Artifact or dozens of high-grade recovery herbs. This amount surpassed all of Zhi Xuan's estimates.

  "As agreed, the twenty-two Blood Crystals are worth twenty thousand low-grade spiritual stones," Jue Mu said, his eye gleaming at the enormous value. "The Arena will take one-quarter of the spiritual stones, the rest is entirely yours."

  Zhi Xuan nodded, his gaze remaining steady. "Twenty-two Blood Crystals, as agreed, are worth twenty thousand low-grade Spiritual Stones. The total is fifty thousand three hundred low-grade Spiritual Stones."

  Jue Mu swallowed, the value was almost equivalent to half of the Devil's Bite Chain Arena's wealth for a full month. "Correct. The Arena takes one-quarter. That means twelve thousand five hundred seventy-five Spiritual Stones. The remainder for you is thirty-seven thousand seven hundred twenty-five low-grade Spiritual Stones. We will convert them into mid-grade Spiritual Stones for you, Herald of Devil."

  "Convert," Zhi Xuan cut in, his voice filled with authority despite his exhaustion. "I want it settled right here, now."

  Jue Mu calculated quickly in his mind, his hands trembling. Every hundred low-grade Spiritual Stones was worth one mid-grade Spiritual Stone. Zhi Xuan showed no surging satisfaction. The figure, though large, was merely provisions and a tool to achieve his goal.

  Jue Mu let out a long sigh, his single eye's gaze implying absolute acknowledgement as a fellow underworld cultivator. He knew that in the face of the entity who had just broken through the realm with controlled blood and cruelty, any negotiation was suicide.

  "Of course, Herald of Devil. We will finalize it immediately," Jue Mu said, gesturing to Chu Feng and several trembling Arena workers to bring a small obsidian wooden chest.

  Chu Feng approached, placing the chest on the blood-soaked black sand, inches from Zhi Xuan's feet. He opened the lid with an ancient rune lock. Inside, a neat pile of Spiritual Stones lay, radiating pure and dense essence.

  "Three hundred seventy-seven mid-grade Spiritual Stones, and the remaining twenty-five low-grade Spiritual Stones," Chu Feng whispered, his voice filled with tension and a faint respect.

  Zhi Xuan knew the arena had a greater advantage, the bookmakers who gambled, and also the Arena's soaring reputation, attracting many bloodthirsty cultivators from the city. Yet Zhi Xuan was not greedy and did not ask for more. He was satisfied with the sight of the stacked mid-grade spiritual stones.

  Zhi Xuan gazed into the chest, his cold eyes scanning the faintly shining pile of spiritual stones. Three hundred seventy-seven mid-grade Spiritual Stones. It was a fortune that would make any Organ Transformation cultivator kneel, enough to finance his cultivation for many years.

  Zhi Xuan waved his hand, the chest immediately entering his storage bag. He felt a sense of relieved satisfaction; with this blood and struggle, he could live comfortably until the Thousand Heavens Sect Selection was due.

  "Thank you," Zhi Xuan said, bowing calmly to Jue Mu, Chu Feng, and the arena that had been the stage for his battle. "I will always remember this day."

  Zhi Xuan did not wait for a reply. Xiao Die, the Heavenly Moth, hummed softly on his shoulder, as if singing a peaceful victory melody. With a single movement of his foot, Zhi Xuan turned, no longer staggering. His steps were stiff yet firm, cutting through the crowd that now gave him a respectful path filled with disbelief, watching the arena's newly born legend.

  Zhi Xuan strode down the dark stone corridor, leaving the horror and the glitter of blood behind him. On both sides of the corridor, cultivators and Arena servants who had been moving quickly now froze, making way. No one dared to obstruct his path, not even to take the remaining blood dripping from his torn robe.

  Zhi Xuan's footsteps, though stiff and heavy, radiated a cold resonance. On his shoulder, the Heavenly Moth, Xiao Die, hummed in the corridor's silence, a peaceful melody that contrasted with the bloodthirsty aura that had just enveloped its master.

  Behind Zhi Xuan's back, as he slowly disappeared into the corridor's darkness, the chilling silence finally broke. The cultivators in the stands, briefly trapped in the cold horror of the precision slaughter, suddenly found their voices.

  The roar that exploded this time was a more complex mixture than before: not only madness, but also reverence for measured and efficient cruelty.

  "He will become a legend! Today is the new legend of the Devil's Bite Chain Arena!" an Organ Transformation cultivator shouted, his eyes gleaming with a new and terrifying fervor.

  "Yes! After today, even the Arena's rules will become more ferocious and give us freedom to kill!" another chimed in, punching the iron fence with his fist. "They will imitate the Herald of Devil! Efficiency! Measured Slaughter! That is the purest Devil Path!"

  "Three hundred seventy-seven mid-grade Spiritual Stones! He stole half of the Arena's profit in one hour!" the old bookmaker roared, forgetting his fear because of the wealth the Arena gained. "We will be rich! This legend will attract every bloodthirsty cultivator in the Lower District!"

  The epithet The Herald of Devil now echoed, a collective roar filled with the promise of blood and distorted prosperity. The Devil's Bite Chain Arena had found its new Guardian Deity—not one cruel for lust, but one cold and cruel for purpose.

  At the edge of the arena, Jue Mu, holding the bag of remaining Blood Crystals, and Chu Feng, who had just witnessed the calculation of wealth, exchanged glances. In Jue Mu's single eye, there was now a mixture of immense business satisfaction and deep fear of the entity they had just created.

  "He is a storm we allowed in," Jue Mu whispered, his voice almost lost in the crowd's roar. "He broke through the realm in the middle of a Blood Harvest. He cannot be measured. We must be careful, Chu Feng. Never try to cheat him. His will is harder than Heavenly steel."

  Chu Feng nodded stiffly, his eyes still fixed on the dark corridor where Zhi Xuan's silhouette disappeared. "He... is not just a Blood Transformation cultivator, Jue Mu. He is destiny. He is a Devil who knows exactly what he wants. And what he wants, is absolute power."

  They both knew. That night, amidst the blood-stained black sand and Spiritual Stones, they did not just witness a fight; they witnessed the rebirth of a cultivator who would use every warmth and pain as his coldest weapon.

  Zhi Xuan stepped out of the darkness of the corridor, the damp night air of the Eastern Lower District greeting him. Outside the Devil's Bite Chain Arena, the noise faded into a constant background hum of dirty and hidden life.

  He walked calmly, climbing the stained stone stairs again. Back above, the 'Poison Cup' bar looked crowded with newly arrived cultivators; they were cultivators from Green Cloud city, seeking blood and pleasure in the Arena far from the empire's surveillance.

  Zhi Xuan emerged from the darkness, passing through the secret door hidden behind a pile of dirty wine barrels, and arrived back at the 'Poison Cup' bar. The contrast between the silence of the underground corridor and the loud hum of the bar, filled with coarse laughter and the smell of stale liquor, felt like a cold slap.

  He was still wearing his torn red silk robe stained with dried blood. His black hair fell slightly disheveled. However, his presence—which now radiated a cold, controlled Blood Transformation aura—immediately created a zone of silence around him, even though the cultivators there were unaware of the battle he had just completed.

  The bar patrons—mostly First Ember and Transformation Phase cultivators looking for trouble or cheap pleasure—glanced at Zhi Xuan, and then quickly looked away. The aura of measured cruelty, which he had just acquired, was enough to suppress any mischievous intent.