The next day, Wang Chen drifted gently through the skyline of Ancient Sword City.
Compared to before, the city felt… heavier.
The streets below had taken on a dull, brownish hue, as if the vitality had been scraped away overnight. Cultivators argued openly in the streets, their voices sharp and unrestrained, disputes breaking out over territory, resources, and trivial slights. Even the air carried a restless agitation, as though the city itself had lost its anchor.
The disappearance of a behemoth like the Thousand Sword Sect was already taking its toll.
Yet something felt off.
Even without the Thousand Sword Sect, Ancient Sword City should not have descended into disorder this quickly. Powers like the Yang Family still existed, forces capable of stabilizing the situation. Law and order should have held, at least on the surface.
Unless… Wang Chen's eyes narrowed slightly. Unless something else is happening beneath the water.
