Bloodstar System: Infinite Evolution Through Beast Slaughter

Chapter 8: Looking for Trouble?

The next day.

Joren weighed the slaughtering blade in his hand.

"Open the main gate over there. Release ten at once."

Rowan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"What?"

"Ten?"

Brann, who was standing nearby, also jumped. The flesh on his face gave a heavy twitch.

He rushed over in a few steps, spittle flying as he shouted.

"These are Brutebulls. Brutebulls with thick hides and monstrous strength. Ten of them charging together is like a wall crushing down on you. You will not even have room to dodge."

Brann slapped his thigh in frustration.

Joren’s expression remained calm, his eyes still as an old well.

Brann’s panic did not stir even the slightest ripple in him.

"After this batch is done, I still need to go back and train. Do not waste time."

With that, he looked at Rowan and lifted his chin slightly.

"Open it."

Rowan looked at Brann.

Brann gritted his teeth. He stared at Joren’s fearless eyes, then hardened his heart.

"Open it. If anything happens, I will take responsibility. If he cannot hold them, close the gate immediately."

Rowan gripped the red main lever with trembling hands.

Then he pushed it down.

Clang.

The heavy iron bars slowly rose under the force of the hydraulic rods.

Roar!

The savage roars that had been suppressed for far too long exploded out at once.

Ten Brutebulls, each built like a tank, rushed from the cage with red eyes and hot breath blasting from their nostrils.

The ground began to shake.

Dust rose everywhere.

Ten Brutebulls charging side by side looked like a small earthquake rolling forward.

The stench and pressure struck head on.

Joren stepped toward the surging herd.

That step was fast as lightning.

The Brutebulls he had needed to face with full focus yesterday now seemed slow in his eyes, as if the world around them had been dragged down.

Mortal perfection had brought more than just increased strength.

His reaction speed had changed as well.

The first Brutebull lowered its head, thick horns driving toward Joren’s abdomen.

Joren shifted slightly to the side.

The horn brushed past the edge of his clothes.

In the instant their bodies crossed, the slaughtering blade in Joren’s hand became a gray blur.

Zzzz.

The sound of the sharp edge cutting into flesh was so soft it was almost swallowed by the thunder of hooves.

The Brutebull kept running, but a thin line of blood burst open across its neck.

It made it another three or four meters before its massive body crashed to the ground and slid far across the marble floor.

One strike.

Dead.

No one had even seen how he drew the blade.

But the other nine Brutebulls had already reached him.

Side step. Slash.

Lower head. Upward cut.

Turn. Horizontal strike.

Joren’s movements were simple, but brutally efficient.

Throat.

Eye.

Heart.

Every strike was fatal.

Blood sprayed through the air.

The slaughtering blade seemed alive in his hand. Each time it flashed, a Brutebull fell.

Pshk.

Joren held the blade in reverse grip and cut through the carotid artery of the last Brutebull.

Scalding beast blood sprayed across the side of his face.

He did not even blink.

The whole process took less than a minute.

The slaughterhouse returned to quiet.

Only the thick smell of blood remained, along with corpses covering the floor.

Joren flicked the blood from his blade.

His chest rose and fell only slightly.

He had not even needed to catch his breath.

"Next batch."

Joren turned and looked at the two men standing there like carved wood.

Ten Brutebulls.

Even an official Awakened Warrior might not be able to win so easily.

Only one night had passed.

Just one night.

How had he become stronger again?

"Do not stand there."

Joren’s voice was light, but it pulled both of them back from their doubts about reality.

"Open it."

Rumble.

The iron bars rose.

The Brutebulls, their eyes red from being caged, rushed out like floodwater breaking through a dam. They carried overwhelming fury as they crushed toward the small human figure.

The ground shook wildly.

The hanging lights above swayed hard.

While Joren fought the Brutebulls inside the slaughterhouse, three boys in bright, expensive school uniforms were walking boldly along the small road outside.

The one in front had slicked back hair and an arrogant expression.

It was Dace.

Two lackeys followed behind him, both wearing flattering smiles.

"Dace, is the news reliable? Is Joren really here slaughtering pigs?"

The lackey on the left covered his nose with disgust. The stench here was making his stomach turn.

Dace sneered, his eyes full of contempt.

"No mistake."

"The school has already expelled him. Where else can a stray dog like him go besides a filthy place like this to sell his strength?"

"I heard Brann took him in and made him a butcher so he could earn a mouthful of food."

The lackey on the right immediately chimed in, his tone exaggerated.

"Oh, a butcher?"

"A former university seed student has fallen so low that he has to deal with beasts. That is hilarious."

The three of them burst into laughter.

Dace adjusted his cuff, wearing the confidence of someone who believed everything was under his control.

"I had planned to play with him slowly at school. I did not expect him to be so stubborn. He would rather die than hand over the preferential quota."

"But this is fine too."

"At school, I still had to care about appearances. Now that the school is out of the picture, if soft methods do not work, then hard ones will."

At this point, Dace stopped and clenched his fist.

Crack. Crack.

His knuckles popped.

A powerful surge of Vital Force flowed from his body, and even the air around him seemed to grow a little hotter.

"That aura... Dace, have you broken through to Greater Mortal?"

The lackey’s eyes lit up, and he immediately began flattering him.

Dace lifted his chin proudly, enjoying their praise.

"Just broke through last night."

"The current me can crush the old Joren with one hand."

Greater Mortal.

Among high school students, that was already top tier fighting power.

It meant he had the qualifications to aim for Astraeus War College.

Unfortunately, getting into Astraeus War College was only the beginning. After that, countless cultivation resources were still needed as a foundation.

That was why he had set his eyes on Joren’s preferential qualification.

Dace looked at the half open iron door not far away, and a cruel light flashed in his eyes.

"If that kid knows what is good for him, he will hand it over. Maybe I will even reward him with a meal."

"If he refuses..."

He gave a cold smile and stepped forward.

"Then he cannot blame me for being ruthless. I will make sure he spends the rest of his life lying in bed."

Dace kicked the side door open.

Bang.

The iron door slammed into the wall with a loud crash.

But the sound was swallowed by the scene inside almost instantly.

The vicious smile on Dace’s face froze.

The two lackeys went weak in the knees and nearly dropped to the ground.

The heavy stench of blood surged at them, thick enough to choke.

Everywhere they looked, there were corpses.

Brutebull bodies were piled into a small mountain.

And above that sea of blood and flesh stood a figure with his back to them.

He was covered in blood from head to toe, a slaughtering blade still dripping in his hand.

At the noise, the figure slowly turned around.

A pair of pitch black eyes swept coldly toward them.