The molten slag in the crater hissed as fifty mutated executioners broke from the perimeter ranks, raising serrated iron poleaxes and charging toward the crater rim.
Ye Chen did not raise the broken broadsword hilt, nor did he shift his feet into a defensive stance.
He took a slow, heavy breath, reaching inward to the nine golden rings spinning around his newly forged Primordial Chaos Core, releasing a single, concentrated pulse of sovereign gravitational density through the soles of his boots.
BOOM!
A silent, invisible wall of pure atmospheric pressure slammed downward across a forty-pace radius, cracking the white marble floorboards into powder.
CRUNCH! SQUEAL! THUD!
The fifty charging executioners hit the floor instantly, their knees shattering against the flagstones, their iron b
