The slaughter continued.
The imperial might pinned Chen Xu firmly in place, leaving him unable to move an inch.
He could even feel his bones on the verge of being crushed beneath that power. This was the gulf between an Immortal Emperor and an Immortal Lord.
It could not be crossed, could not be defied.
He could only watch helplessly as one Immortal Lord after another fell.
The Immortal Emperors struck cleanly and decisively-with a palm, a finger, or a sword.
Precise, restrained, even... stingy.
Every fallen body remained intact.
Chen Xu suddenly sensed something wrong. When cultivators killed, they prized speed, precision, and ruthlessness.
If one blow could kill, they never used two. If they could blast someone to dust, they never left an intact corpse. Yet these Immortal Emperors...
Why were they reining in their power to such an extent?
Before the answer surfaced, a commotion suddenly rose in the distance.
Chen Xu struggled to turn his eyes toward it.
Black mist. Black mist that blotted out the sky.
They gathered together like something beyond description, pouring out of the Void toward this slaughterhouse of Immortal Lords.
The Other Race had arrived, drawn by the fluctuations of the Emperor Realm and the blood of Immortal Lords.
Their numbers made his scalp crawl, greater than anything Chen Xu had ever seen.
Chen Xu's heart sank completely. Before him were the Immortal Emperors' butcher knives; behind him, an army of the Other Race. Death awaited on either side.
But the Immortal Emperors' reaction caught him by surprise.
"They came quickly enough."
The leading Immortal Emperor frowned, a trace of impatience in his voice.
"No matter," another Immortal Emperor said lightly. "Since they're here, we might as well collect them too."
Collect them? How?
Before Chen Xu could make sense of