254: The domain expands, and the netherworld is eliminated.

That single sentence, "Who dares to be defiant?" was as casual as asking, "Have you eaten?"

But those few words transformed into an invisible thunderclap, exploding violently above the deathly silent square and within the Sea of Consciousness of every black-clad Cultivator.

Time seemed to freeze once again.

The dozen or so Netherworld Palace Cultivators in mid-air were like puppets under a paralysis Spell, frozen in various states of terror or confusion, completely motionless.

Fear.

A type of fear that transcended death itself, originating from the deepest depths of biological instinct, gripped each of their throats and froze each of their Divine Souls.

What just happened?

The Envoy... that Envoy who was infinitely close to the Nascent Soul Stage, who had used the forbidden God-Devil Descent technique... was just pointed out of existence by a single finger?

Not defeated.

Not killed.

Gone.

Erased from this world.

"Ah—!"

Finally, a black-clad Cultivator whose mental defenses had completely collapsed let out a shrill, distorted scream.

This scream was like lighting the fuse of a powder keg.

The deathly silence was instantly shattered.

"Run! Run quickly!"

"A devil! He's a devil!"

"Scatter and escape! Back to the Spirit Realm! We must report everything that happened here to the Palace Master!"

At this moment, all the black-clad Cultivators went completely mad.

They no longer possessed a shred of the arrogance of Upper Realm Cultivators, nor a hint of greed or killing intent; all that remained was the most primal instinct to survive.

Over a dozen streaks of black light, like a startled flock of birds, fled frantically in all directions, heedless of everything else.

Some rushed toward the sky.

Some delved into the ground.

Others, driven to insanity by extreme fear, their eyes bloodshot, mindlessly hurled all their Magic Treasures and talismans toward the green-robed figure in the center of the square.

"Die! Die for me!"

For a time, the flashes of blades and swords mingled with the chaotic light of talismans as various Spells, containing the full power of Foundation Establishment Peak Cultivators, rained down like a blanket.

On the square, the hearts of the Qingyun Sect members, who had just seen a glimmer of hope, leaped into their throats once more.

However, facing this chaos—

Whether it was the enemies fleeing in all directions or the incoming attacks—

Lin Fan still stood in his original spot.

He didn't even lift an eyelid.

It was as if this scene, which would be enough to throw any Golden Core Cultivator into a panic, was nothing more than a farcical comedy.

He merely swept his gaze indifferently across the entirety of Qingyun Mountain.

The next instant.

Buzz.

An invisible, imperceptible ripple centered on him, spreading out silently like ripples on the surface of water.

There was no light.

There was no wind.

There was no sound.

This ripple instantly swept across the square, the main Peak, and the rear mountains, covering every inch of land and every inch of space in the entire Qingyun Mountains.

Void Refining Domain—[Oblivion Space].

It quietly unfolded.

The moment the Domain covered the entire territory,

An eerie scene occurred.

The Cultivator who was frantically driving his Magic Treasures to attack Lin Fan suddenly had the crazed expression on his face freeze.

He watched helplessly as the Flying Sword he had summoned disintegrated silently in mid-air, turning into the smallest particles and vanishing into nothingness.

Next was his hand.

His body.

He too, like a sand sculpture weathered by the wind, turned into dust that filled the air amidst a dead silence.

The Cultivator who had just dived hundreds of meters underground and was traveling frantically suddenly stiffened.

The hard rock layers provided him with no protection whatsoever.

His flesh, his bones, and his Divine Soul were simultaneously decomposed by an irresistible power of laws, assimilating into nothingness along with the soil and rock.

The Cultivator who had already flown thousands of meters into the sky and was about to escape the range of the Qingyun Mountains had just shown a hint of ecstasy at surviving the disaster.

In the next moment, his smile froze.

His body, amidst the high-altitude clouds, simply drifted away with the wind, silent and soundless.

Whether they were attacking,

Or fleeing,

Whether in the sky or underground,

Whether in the square or at the edge of the mountains—

All the black-clad Cultivators wearing Netherworld Palace attire had their movements and their lives terminated at this very same moment.

Their bodies were like snow under the sun, or like a pencil sketch being erased by an eraser.

There was no pain.

There was no struggle.

Just like that, they quietly disappeared from this world.

The blood clouds in the sky dispersed.

The cold Evil Qi vanished.

Warm sunlight once again pierced through the clouds, bathing the entire main Peak square of the Qingyun Sect and dyeing the broken bluestone floor with a layer of golden brilliance.

Aside from the mess and bloodstains all over the ground, not a single living enemy could be seen.

The whole world became quiet.

On the square, all the surviving Disciples of the Qingyun Sect stood in a daze.

Fatty Zhang’s mouth was wide open—wide enough to fit an egg—but he couldn't make a sound.

Tears still hung on Zhao Linger's eyelashes as she stared blankly at that back, as if looking at a god who had descended to the mortal realm and was walking among men.

Having finished all this,

Lin Fan finally, slowly, turned around.

His calm gaze crossed the messy square and landed on the two figures he would protect with his life... Meanwhile,

Deep within a dark and magnificent black palace in the Spirit Realm,

Inside a secret room, thousands of ethereal blue Soul Lamps burned quietly.

Each Soul Lamp corresponded to a Netherworld Palace Cultivator out on a mission.

An old man with white hair and beard, wearing Elder robes, sat cross-legged in the center of the forest of Soul Lamps, eyes closed in meditation.

Puff.

Puff, puff, puff—

Suddenly, a series of faint sounds, like candles being blown out, echoed one after another.

In the farthest corner of the secret room, the row of Soul Lamps representing those sent to the Lower Realm on a mission went out one after another—over a dozen in just a breath or two!

Among them, even the brightest Soul Lamp, belonging to the Nascent Soul Envoy, was extinguished!

The old man responsible for guarding the Soul Hall snapped his eyes open.

His gaze was first one of shock,

Then disbelief,

And finally, it all turned into heaven-shaking fury and cold killing intent!

"The Lower Realm... the Qingyun Sect?"

"What audacity!"