The mottled, ancient bronze chariot sped rapidly along, using the sea of clouds in the sky as its ground and the void as its path.
"How are you doing right now?" Zhao Yun asked, holding the reins from the driver's seat and controlling the direction of the chariot.
Beneath the canopy at the back of the chariot, a figure sat cross-legged.
That was a figure whose features were blurred, as though covered by a layer of mist, making it impossible for people to see his face clearly. His entire person hovered between the realm of the real and the illusory, constantly shifting—he was none other than Wang Ming, who was fusing with his physical body.
"Not bad!"
"You drew their attention, so I didn't suffer any damage. What about you?" Wang Ming asked.
Zhao Yun, driving the chariot, said, "I'm not bad either."
"There are rifts in the alliance between the Joyful Union Sect and Qing. They can't fully trust each other, so they didn't dare to go all out when attacking. Therefore, although it looked like I was dealing with two major factions at the same time, when they actually fight, their mutual interference makes them even less of a threat to me than a single person would be."
After saying this, Zhao Yun turned her head again and asked, "What I asked wasn't this matter, but rather which stage your physical body fusion has reached."
Wang Ming, sitting cross-legged beneath the canopy, raised a palm and looked at it in front of his eyes. His palm flickered between clear and blurry, looking just like the image on an old television with bad signal.
This time, the time it took for him to fuse his physical body was a bit long, entirely because when he fused with new physical