Shui Wuhen frowned, looking at Chen Ping with a complicated expression: “Can you handle this?”

Chen Ping did not answer; he simply reached out and placed his palm on the young cultivator’s chest.

Gray, chaotic power surged from his palm, seeping into the cultivator’s meridians silently and firmly, like a warm stream seeping into a dry riverbed.

The essence of the power of chaos is the source of all laws, capable of devouring and purifying all alien energies—those yin energies have no power to resist the power of chaos.

Like ice and snow thrown into a raging fire, it quickly melted, disintegrated, and vanished, swallowed up by the power of chaos, and transformed into the purest energy to re-integrate into the cultivator’s dantian.

A moment later, the young cultivator’s ashen face began to regain its color, and his weak breathing became stronger. His eyelashes trembled slightly, and then he slowly opened his eyes, looking around blankly, his gaze filled with weakness and confusion.

Without pausing, Chen Ping stood up and walked towards the next unconscious cultivator, repeating the same action.