Chen Feng's house had now turned into scorched earth, with every trace bearing the marks of fire damage. Yet, peculiarly, the fire was confined to the inside of the room; no matter how intense the flames, the surroundings remained untouched. It was bewildering, requiring an extraordinary level of control to contain the fire so precisely.
The two figures inside the house had already fallen asleep, appearing thoroughly exhausted.
Especially the cat-eared girl, whose face was etched with fatigue; her originally delicate and round face was now smudged with dust, curled up in a ball, clearly fearful of something. Her little hands were covered with scratches, seeping with blood. Yet she neither cried out in pain nor complained, merely closing her eyes and falling into deep sleep, for she was simply too tired.
Streams of divine power began to converge.
