Hundreds upon thousands of figures swooped toward the mountain shrouded in Chaos like a swarm of locusts.
Five-Colored Divine Light wove into an enormous net around them, while the aura of Emperor Venerables, the pressure of God Kings, and the lingering resonance of myth blended together, crushing the void for tens of thousands of miles until it creaked.
Yuan Wuxing sat cross-legged at the foot of the mountain, his eyes closed.
The battle cries exploded in his ears, every word as clear as a blade stabbing into his eardrums.
Those auras bore down on his senses from every direction, each carrying undisguised killing intent.
Those attacks gathered above his head, every strike enough to make even peak Emperor Venerables, perhaps even mythic beings, blanch.
Yet his expression did not change. His breathing did not waver. He did not even lift an eyelid.
He was waiting.
Waiting for them to come closer, waiting for them to pack tighter, waiting for them to gather more densely.
Charging at the forefront was a white-haired peak Emperor Venerable elder. Two Emperor Venerable Daos whirled madly around him, while Five-Colored Divine Light condensed into a Five-Colored Spear in his palm, five-colored radiance flickering from its tip.
Dozens of Emperor Venerables followed close behind him, with over a hundred God Kings behind them. Their densely packed figures blotted out half the sky.
They had only one target—the mountain, the cross-legged figure, Chu Tian, who was condensing his fifth Chaos Dao.
When they were still a hundred zhang from the mountain.
Yuan Wuxing opened his eyes.
There was no anger in those Five-Colored Pupils, no killing intent—only an absolute calm that had cast life and death aside.
He slowly rose to his feet. His right arm hung at his side, blood still seeped from the wound on