Ping River was no longer as peaceful as it had once been that night.
The river reflected flames that filled the sky.
Refugees swarmed into the city like locusts, devouring everything in their path.
Amid the firelight, Pingjiang Town rang with weeping and screams everywhere.
Mixed into the torrent were quite a few Pure Fragrance Cult preachers carrying incense burners.
"Burn our divine incense, turn it into divine ash. With this as the medium, receive the god's gift."
The preachers scooped ashes into bowls of water, and the refugees scrambled to drink.
Because once they drank it, they could become "impervious to blades and spears," unafraid even of martial artists.
As for whether they were truly impervious to blades and spears, Wei Luo did not know.
But every refugee who drank the ash water had an evil gleam in their eyes and howled in excitement.
Then, those refugees stormed into the homes along this alley.
They did not merely rob food. Before long, anguished wails and shrieks erupted.
By the time the refugees came back out, most of their hands were stained with blood.
Wei Luo and Liu Changle were hurrying back to their own home.
Seeing this scene as they passed by, Liu Changle's gaze trembled, and he let out a long sigh.
"Ah—they..."
Liu Changle wanted to curse the Pure Fragrance Cult, but the words reached his lips and were swallowed back down.
This disaster was certainly guided from behind by the Pure Fragrance Cult, but at its root, the corruption of the Great Yin Dynasty and the collapse of its system were the true cause.
Wei Luo pressed his lips together. Watching the refugees draw nearer, their eyes glowing red, he patted Liu Changle on the shoulder.
"We should go. Otherwise, we'll have to waste more effort."