93: The counterattack from a distance by the inner light of the Yang spirit

The moment that nauseating "wall of flesh" came into contact with Su Chen's Protective Astral Qi, it was like pouring scalding beef tallow into accumulated snow, producing a "sizzling" sound of melting.

Su Chen held his breath; the smell inside was even more pungent than the formalin scent outside, a mixture of heavy fishy musk and a strange sweetness, like overripe fruit rotting in the ground.

Deep within this viscous purple-black biological tissue, Lin Mengyao was suspended in mid-air by several thick tentacles.

Those tentacles were like living blood vessels, expanding and contracting as they extracted something from her body, while her originally fair skin now appeared morbidly ashen, and the rise and fall of her chest was so weak it was almost negligible.

"Stupid woman, aren't you usually quite calculating? Why are you hanging there like a roast duck right now?"

Su Chen cursed under his breath, his long blade whirling into an afterimage as he cleanly severed the tentacles wrapped around her.

Losing her support, Lin Mengyao fell limply, and Su Chen caught her with one arm, pulling her into his embrace.

The touch of her skin was terrifyingly cold, and those eyes that usually held a hint of arrogance were tightly shut; her vital signs were in a freefall.

This was no longer a simple case of hypoxia or poisoning; her primordial life force was being forcibly plundered by this demon flower.

"Want to die? Have you asked your creditor? You haven't paid back the water you owe me yet."

Su Chen's gaze sharpened, and without the slightest hesitation, he leaned down and fiercely kissed those bloodless lips.

This wasn't some romantic kiss; it was more like forcibly injecting high-octane fuel into an engine that was about to stall.

Boom—!

As their lips met, the Saint Sun Cyclone within Su Chen's dantian, which was like a blazing sun, suddenly rotated in reverse.

A surge of extremely pure Yang Energy, brimming with overbearing vitality, was dominantly poured into Lin Mengyao's body through her mouth, forcibly forcing open her blocked Meridians.

The moment the Yang Energy was transferred, Su Chen felt a crisp "buzz" in his mind.

The sensation was wonderful, as if his brain, which originally only had a 2G signal, had suddenly been connected to fiber-optic broadband.

At this moment, his and Lin Mengyao's mental power reached an indescribable deep resonance; through the complementarity of their constitutions, his perception instantly broke through the shackles of the physical body.

Is this the threshold of "Entering Sainthood"?

Su Chen didn't even have time to check the system panel; in his Sea of Consciousness, his originally scattered mental power was rapidly condensing, eventually forming a Divine Needle as red as blood and as solid as substance.

The world changed in his eyes.

The mist and flesh walls that originally blocked his vision now became semi-transparent phantoms in his mind.

Life fluctuations within a hundred-meter radius were as clearly visible as blips on a radar.

And at the coordinate point representing the "heavy truck bus," a loathsome, murky black dot was jumping frantically.

That was Zhao Zihao.

Through this mysterious "Divine Sense Lock," Su Chen clearly "saw" that guy holding a crowbar, trying to pry open the internal Isolation Door leading to the girls' rest area, his face wearing a wretched smile of impending success.

"A rat trying to steal from home, your claws have reached too far."

Su Chen's physical body, still deep in the mist, didn't even move a step; he simply held Lin Mengyao, looked indifferently toward the bus, and raised his index finger, lightly tapping the air.

The blood-red Divine Needle in his Sea of Consciousness vanished instantly, ignoring the distance of space to pierce directly through the illusion.

Yang Energy Transforms into Spirit, Thousand-Mile Soul Lock!

Outside the bus, Zhao Zihao was shoving the crowbar into the gap of the Isolation Door, trembling with excitement: "Open the door! I'm here to protect you! That short-lived ghost Su Chen is definitely finished, now only I can..."

Before he could finish his sentence, a burst of red light suddenly exploded without warning at the wrist of his right hand holding the crowbar.

There was no wound, and no blood splattered.

But that palm of his was as if it had been thrown into a crematorium furnace and roasted for three days and nights, rapidly shriveling, blackening, and carbonizing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The once full muscles instantly turned into brittle, charred wood, and the skin clung tightly to the bone, emitting a burnt smell.

"Ah—!! My hand!!"

The delayed intense pain instantly overwhelmed Zhao Zihao's nerves.

He screamed and let go of the crowbar, losing his balance due to the agony; his feet slipped, and he rolled off the vehicle step like a broken sack, falling heavily onto the edge of the mist outside the bus.

Meanwhile, deep in the mist.

Su Chen retracted his finger, not even glancing in that direction.

He used one hand to grip the core of the Nightmare Demon Flower, which was trembling wildly because its food source had been cut off, and the Saint Sun Power in his palm erupted.

Crack.

The still-pulsating core was crushed directly into pulp.

With the shattering of the core, the suffocating pink mist around them dissipated rapidly like a receding tide.

Su Chen walked out of the remaining mist step by step, holding Lin Mengyao, whose color was gradually returning, in one hand and his long blade, still dripping with green slime, in the other.

At this time, Zhao Zihao was curled up by the wheel, clutching his ruined right hand and rolling on the ground, his face a mess of tears and snot.

Hearing footsteps, he instinctively looked up, meeting a pair of cold golden pupils.

"Su... Su Chen? Are you a human or a ghost?!" Zhao Zihao's voice became sharp and distorted with fear, like a drake being strangled.

Su Chen ignored this stray dog.

He walked to the bus door that was jammed by a U-lock.

This industrial-grade alloy lock was indeed strong enough to withstand the impact of ordinary zombies, but in Su Chen's eyes at this moment, it was as brittle as a cracker.

He reached out his right hand, gripping the lock body with his five fingers.

There were no fancy moves, just pure grip strength.

"Creak—Snap!"

That thumb-thick solid alloy lock shackle snapped directly amidst a tooth-aching sound of metal twisting.

Su Chen casually threw away the U-lock that had already turned into scrap metal.

"Thud."

The heavy piece of metal hit Zhao Zihao squarely in the face, collapsing his nose and filling his mouth with blood; the plea for mercy that was about to come out was forcibly knocked back into his stomach.

The bus door slid open slowly, revealing pairs of beautiful eyes that were shaken but filled with pleasant surprise.

Su Chen handed Lin Mengyao to Teacher Qin Ya, who was already waiting at the door with red-rimmed eyes, then turned and walked slowly toward the figure still twitching on the ground.

His military boots stepped on the gravel road, making a dull and rhythmic sound, each step seeming to stomp on Zhao Zihao's heartbeat.

Su Chen walked up to Zhao Zihao, looking down at his former classmate whose face was covered in blood; his gaze slowly moved down, finally landing on that pitch-black and fragile right wrist that looked like a withered branch.