241: Chapter 242 Completely Annihilate from a Physical Perspective

Inside the tent, it was so quiet that one could hear the faint popping sound of the candle flame burning.

Dai Qisi, the former Persian Holy Maidens, the Purple-Clad Dragon King whom countless heroes and gallants bowed to.

She did not stand up, but maintained a kneeling posture, her hands pressed against the carpet, knees slightly bent, and then... slowly, bit by bit, she crawled on her knees towards Lu Chen.

Her movements were gentle and slow, even carrying a sense of caution.

The soft Persian carpet sank slightly under her fair palms and knees, leaving shallow indentations.

Her silk clothing rubbed against the carpet, making a soft rustling sound that seemed exceptionally clear in the overly quiet tent.

Those eyes, which once made countless Persian believers look up in awe and were enough to bewitch the Soul, now only dared to gaze at a small patch of carpet in front of her. Her long eyelashes were lowered, hiding the complex emotions surging deep within her eyes.

The once high-and-mighty Saintess, the Purple-Clad Dragon King who shook the Jianghu, now crawled like a docile and well-behaved kitten towards her master.

This scene was full of startling contrast, yet eerily harmonious.

Yin Susu's smile deepened; she even gave a soft "tsk," as if savoring something interesting.

Dai Qisi arrived at Lu Chen's feet.

She stopped, her head bowed low. Her long, black, silky hair cascaded down like a waterfall, covering most of her profile and revealing only her small, exquisite chin and a length of fair, jade-like neck.

Her breathing was slightly hurried, her chest rising and falling gently, and her fingertips curled unconsciously, leaving deeper indentations on the carpet.

No one knew what she was thinking at this moment.

But judging from her slightly trembling yet incredibly firm posture, it was likely more of an indescribable... excitement and honor.

To be able to prostrate herself at the feet of such an unfathomable existence, who seemed like a god, was not an unbearable humiliation for this Persian Holy Maidens, who had lived half a life of hardship and carried too much of a heavy past.

Instead... it felt like a sudden gift, a favor from fate.

What Lu Chen bestowed upon her was not just a new life or peerless martial arts, but hope—a future she never dared to even imagine.

Lu Chen adjusted his posture slightly, turned to the side, and his gaze landed on the stunning woman prostrate at his feet.

His eyes were calm and waveless, as if looking at an object that belonged to him.

Then, he raised his hand.

His long, powerful fingers gently brushed past Dai Qisi's cascading black hair with a hint of casual intimacy, his fingertips finally resting near her smooth earlobe, touching it faintly.

Dai Qisi's body trembled almost imperceptibly, then froze, and she even held her breath.

Yin Susu finally couldn't help herself. She leaned close to Lu Chen, lowered her voice, and with a teasing smile, spoke with breath as fragrant as an orchid:

"Husband, with this 'Ice and Fire' experience, the younger sisters are all watching."

Her voice was not loud, but in the quiet tent, it was enough for everyone to hear clearly.

Dai Qisi's body stiffened again, her head buried even lower, her cheeks instantly turning bright red, as if they could drip blood.

Lu Chen glanced at Yin Susu, his eyes filled with a trace of helplessness and a touch of indulgence.

He reached out and gently flicked Yin Susu's perky nose, "You have too many mischievous tricks."

The voice was not loud, but it carried a strange, soothing power that instantly dispersed the ambiguity in the tent.

It was as if that thought-provoking scene from just a moment ago was truly just a harmless little joke.

Dai Qisi let go of everything, both her Soul and her body.

...

...

The candle flame in the tent had reached its end at some unknown time, and the light grew dim.

Only the occasional popping spark briefly illuminated the intertwined figures in the tent.

When the last bit of candlelight went out, the tent was completely plunged into darkness.

The sounds of breathing at different frequencies became the only clearly audible movement.

Rising and falling, lasting forever.

...

At dawn, Lu Chen still maintained his previous posture, resting his head on his arm, eyes closed.

His breathing was long and steady, almost imperceptible.

If not for the extremely slight rise and fall of his chest, others would almost think this was a perfect jade statue, rather than a living person.

Silence.

Dead silence.

Even the sound of the wind and insects on the grassland seemed to be isolated by some invisible Qi field inside the tent.

Suddenly.

Without any warning.

The four swords of zhuxian hanging in the large tent unsheathed in unison.

Lu Chen used Sword Control by Will.

The next moment.

Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!

There was no sonic boom tearing through the air, no earth-shaking momentum.

They just flashed gently, like ink drops falling into water, blending into the night outside.

Fast.

Fast to the extreme.

It was as if they had always existed in the outside world and had only manifested here for an instant.

At the same time.

Lu Chen's massive "Divine Sense," which covered a radius of one hundred thousand zhang, was like an omnipresent observer, coldly watching everything that followed.

One hundred thousand zhang is three hundred and thirty-three kilometers.

This was a terrifying range sufficient to cover several provinces.

Within this vast area, countless towns, villages, fortresses, and... various religious sites were scattered like stars in the sky.

In the center of this vast land, that seemingly ordinary large tent belonging to Lu Chen became the center of an invisible storm.

About a hundred miles to the east of the large tent was a magnificent city.

In the center of the city stood a grand mosque. Its huge dome shimmered with a soft luster under the moonlight, and its towering minaret pointed straight to the night sky, as if conversing with the stars.

A soft sound, weaker than the buzzing of a mosquito's wings.

The magnificent minaret broke from the middle, and the upper half silently turned into the finest powder, drifting away in the night wind.

Immediately after, the huge dome, like a soap bubble poked by an invisible finger, went "poof" and also turned into the same powder.

The walls, columns, ground... the entire mosque that carried countless faiths was completely disintegrated from top to bottom in a single breath, turning into a pile of... dust evenly spread on the ground.

Even the foundation did not escape.

In its place, only a huge, flat, shallow depression remained, along with dust lingering in the air for a long time.

Similar scenes were playing out simultaneously within a radius of one hundred thousand zhang.

One hundred and twenty miles to the west, a Nestorian church was built against a mountain.

The stone walls bore traces of mottled age, and a cross stood quietly on the small bell tower.

Hiss.

The cross was gone.

The bell tower was gone.

The church spire, walls, stained glass windows... everything turned into flying ash.

The old Cultivator in charge of the night watch was holding an oil lamp, about to lock the heavy wooden door of the church. He didn't even feel anything unusual, but his vision blurred for a moment, and the church was gone, leaving only an open space and dust flying all over the sky.

The oil lamp in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," the lamp oil spilled, and the flame instantly went out.

The old man stood there, mouth agape, his cloudy eyes filled only with confusion and fear.

Ninety miles to the south, in a corner of a bustling town, was a small synagogue.

Inside the synagogue, several ancient parchment scrolls were enshrined.

Hiss.

The scrolls turned into flying fluff.

The altar turned into powder.

The entire synagogue, along with its low roof and plain walls, returned to nothingness together.

In its place, only a flat open space remained, slightly one inch lower than the surrounding ground.