Douluo: Reincarnation of Leosli, punishing the evildoers

After saying that, Leosley ignored the man and went straight inside.

Leosley's figure receded into the distance, disappearing into the dark entrance to the hellish killing field. Two law enforcement officers remained behind; one lay on the ground, blood staining the earth, while the other stood frozen, his face ashen.

Siegwen followed silently behind Leosley, glancing at him with a complicated expression, her mind filled with countless thoughts.

This isn't the first time. She may uphold the principle of saving lives, but that doesn't mean she can tolerate such scum.

Now that others are trying to ride roughshod over them, she certainly won't hold back.

Hitchcock doesn't kill, that's true, but Leosley will help her take care of it.

She raised him to adulthood; she could practically be considered Leosley's mother.

Of course, children should protect their mothers when they grow up!

Leosley's footsteps echoed through the corridors of the Hell's Killing Fields, heavy and rhythmic, each step seeming to pound on the hearts of those around him. His figure appeared exceptionally tall in the dim light, his black overcoat gleaming with a cold light, like a mobile fortress.

Those corrupt individuals who had been itching to act, after witnessing the fate of the two law enforcement officers behind Leosley, all lowered their gazes and retreated to the side, fearing that they would become the next target.

Higgin followed closely behind, her steps light yet firm, her slender tail swaying slightly, her eyes scanning the surroundings out of the corner of her eye, alert to any possible threat. Her presence was like a barrier, silently protecting Leosley's back.

Stepping into the hellish killing field, a sense of unease gripped me; the scene inside was far more rudimentary than I had imagined. There were no barriers whatsoever, and the audience seating resembled concentric steps extending upwards, seemingly a perfect viewing platform for the excited spectators.

Before me lay a vast, empty space, hundreds of square meters in diameter, which looked rather desolate.

At this moment, there weren't many spectators in the arena; less than 20% of the space was occupied, making it almost deserted. However, despite their small numbers, their gazes were fixed on the arena like those of hawks. Loud screams echoed throughout, like a tragic elegy for this bloody battle.

On this brutal battlefield, seven out of ten men have already fallen, leaving only three struggling desperately for survival. An atmosphere of tension and despair hangs in the air; everyone is giving their all to fight for that sliver of hope!
Inside the arena, blood-stained ground was littered with severed limbs. The remaining three were covered in blood, their eyes flashing with a crazed killing intent. There was no trust between them, only endless hostility.

The first survivor was a burly man, wielding a blood-stained giant axe. He was breathing heavily, his eyes as fierce as a wild beast's. A deep wound ran down his left shoulder, blood dripping from his arm, but he seemed oblivious to the pain, gripping the axe handle tightly and glaring menacingly at the other two.

The second survivor was a short man who wielded a short knife and moved with ghostly agility. His face was covered in a ferocious grin, and his eyes gleamed with madness.

His clothes were already soaked in blood, and he had many wounds on his body, but he seemed unconcerned, constantly moving around the field, looking for an opportunity to deliver a fatal blow.

Leosley stood at the edge of the stands in the Hell's Killing Arena, his gaze as cold as ice as he watched the bloody battle below. His black overcoat appeared particularly somber in the dim light, its hem fluttering slightly as if blending into the surrounding darkness.

The wound on his left shoulder was still bleeding, the bright red liquid sliding down his arm and dripping onto the ground at his feet, blooming into small blood flowers. Below, the burly man wielding the giant axe panted heavily, his eyes bloodshot, his gaze fixed on the short man opposite him. A twisted smile hung on the short man's face, and the short knife in his hand reflected a blinding glint in the lamplight.

Beneath their feet lay corpses strewn about, the ground stained dark red with blood, and the air thick with the smell of rust.

The match is over, and the next one is coming soon.

This is a hellish killing field, with no end in sight; people die every day.

Once you join, there is no option to voluntarily withdraw.

Leosley stood silently in the shadows of the hellish killing field, his gaze coldly fixed on the bloody carnage within. The stench of rust in the air grew stronger, mingling with the sweat and decay of death, assaulting the senses of everyone present.

His black overcoat looked particularly austere in the dim light, like a silent barrier shutting out the surrounding noise.

Higewen quietly walked to Leosley's side, her gaze sweeping across the arena: "The atmosphere here is suffocating."

“There’s nothing we can do about it; that’s human nature.” Leosley’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Human nature is inherently selfish, especially in a place like this. For survival, for profit, they can kill their companions without hesitation. That’s the cruel reality of this world.”

His gaze was as sharp as a knife, seemingly able to see through the deepest darkness in people's hearts. Siegwen's gaze swept across the arena, her brow furrowing slightly. A pang of unease gripped her heart; this was the City of Slaughter, the paradise of the fallen.

Unlike Melo Petersburg, which has historically been under a state of "self-governance," it was more of a place for criminals to atone for their sins. Here, prisoners could arrange their time freely, and no one would interfere with them unless they broke certain rules or tried to escape.

This place is more like hell, devoid of humanity, where there is nothing but "killing" and "survival".

Although Leosley's tone was calm, his eyes revealed an indescribable indifference, as if he were stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.

Higewen sighed softly, her gaze sweeping across the crowd. Their faces wore a variety of expressions: some excited, some numb, and some with a bloodthirsty frenzy. An indescribable sense of oppression hung in the air, as if everyone's breath was bound by this deathly place.

Hisewen said in a low voice, "Everyone here seems to have lost themselves, leaving only the most primal desires."

Leosley did not respond; his gaze remained fixed on the center of the arena, where a new round of battle was taking place. The martial souls of the two soul masters clashed in mid-air, erupting in dazzling light, with blood and broken limbs splattering everywhere.

The shouts of the audience rose and fell, as if it were some kind of distorted carnival.

Higewen frowned and said, "Don't they ever think they might one day become one of them?" (End of Chapter)