The snow-white longsword sliced through the scythe as smoothly as cutting tofu, under the watchful eyes of the cultist, and then passed through his body.
Even if a calamity-level weapon is not fully utilized, it is still comparable to a real living weapon when enhanced by near-perfect sword intent.
"Thanks…"
Chenyu snapped out of his daze, unable to hide his joy at surviving the ordeal, and sincerely thanked Shangwu.
"It's alright, it's what I should do."
After watching the two cultists being dealt with, Shangwu turned his gaze to the street in the distance.
Where are the city's garrison?
Two cult members committed violence in the street, and more than five minutes have passed, yet the city guards still haven't reacted.
Looking around at the civilians, they didn't seem to mind.
Shangwu's heart sank.
Is it that you don't mind, or is there another reason?
"Don't worry about it, it's actually quite normal for the city guards to arrive late."
Chen Yu seemed to see what he was thinking and said awkwardly, "Because things have been a bit too peaceful lately, most of the city guards have been mobilized to the city walls to go out and kill alien beasts."
"The people usually in charge of maintaining order are some folk martial artists, so it's right that they don't take action against the believers."
Is that so?
Shangwu nodded, sheathed his longsword, seemingly acknowledging the answer.
"Then I'll go check on my younger brother first."
With the crisis averted, Chenyu quickly located the figure that had been blasted away.
Chen Hang was unconscious, with a gray spike stuck in his shoulder and pinned to the wall.
"How about it?"
Shangwu rushed over and asked.
"It's alright." Chen Yu breathed a sigh of relief: "It's not a fatal injury, but it will still take three or four months to recover."
"That's good."
Shangwu continued, "Now let's talk about the Creation Sect's stronghold."
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