The white-robed men exchanged glances, not worried but delighted.
What prophets feared most was no response. The unknown was their greatest enemy.
"You don't like stupid brains? We have smart ones too." The high-nosed white man called Suoke waved his hand again.
Luoer hesitated, but quickly walked to the third truck and opened its rear doors.
"What are you doing?" An old white man with his hands bound behind his back was shoved down from the truck by several guards.
Behind him stood a group of young students, all pale with terror as they desperately shrank back.
Luoer looked at his partner, Lina, and a trace of reluctance flickered across her face.
These were their compatriots, genuine Western Continent People.
Once the butcher's blade began to swing at so-called outsiders, it was destined to swing at so-called kin as well. Once a breach was opened, it could never be sealed again.
"That's enough. To die for our Western Continent is your honor." Suoke turned around, his eyes utterly devoid of pity.
What did brilliant minds matter? Burn one to death, and more would emerge. As long as order remained, that was enough.
After all, the truly top-tier ones were still safely protected. These middling talents could be sacrificed. Besides, their families had been immigrants for two generations; they were not true locals.
There was only one purpose in doing this: not many people would care if these people vanished.
"We don't want that kind of honor!" The old man struggled desperately, but it was useless.
How could he fight the powerful escorts behind him? Even if they were not Otherworldly Users, they were well-trained soldiers.
They were still pushed to the edge of the giant pit.
At the sight of the enormous pit and its dim, deep green waters, the