The drumbeat-like explosions and gunfire had fallen silent at some point.
Not long after, black smoke rose from the direction of Dust Town.
The residents traveling along the mountain path stopped involuntarily, set down their burdens, and prostrated themselves toward the town.
"Great Horned Deer God above..."
"May Lord Great Horned Rat be safe and sound."
"The Emperor bless us."
From those haphazard prayers alone, it was easy to see just how wildly inconsistent their beliefs were.
Yet there was not a trace of falsehood in their prayers for the warriors' safety.
Zhang Zhengyang, whose hands were tied to an ox cart with rope, also spotted that wisp of black smoke. A surge of satisfaction rose in his heart, along with a secret flicker of delight.
The esteemed bishop had not abandoned him after all!
Their allies had sent people to rescue him!
However, he did not let his thoughts show on his face. He merely hunched his head submissively, terrified that the survivors would notice him and vent their anger on him.
Watching the residents prostrating themselves in prayer, Old White, walking at the front of the group, stopped and tapped his helmet with his index finger.
"Ten-minute break."
"We'll wait for them."
They were already more than twenty kilometers from Dust Town, separated by forests and hills that vehicles could hardly cross. There was little need to worry about being pursued.
Thanks to the brothers from the Burning Corps buying them time, they had more than enough time to relocate to a safe area.
After roughly three to five minutes, the residents of Dust Town rose from the ground, dusted themselves off, and picked up their luggage again.
Everyone was downcast, with little conversation.
Yet Old White could see something in their eyes beyond grief and confusion.
He