Zhang Zhichong had no idea that the Divine Weapon Qingfeng, which he regarded as his ultimate trump card, was merely a little trinket for pleasing women in Meng Zhao's eyes. He only felt that after briefly becoming its Weapon Master, his abilities had improved considerably.
With a thought, his true qi erupted. The tattered clothes still draped over him were instantly blown apart by a fierce wind, fluttering in all directions. A string of afterimages remained where he had stood and along his path, and several seconds later, a violent gale was stirred up.
When Zhang Zhichong finally came to a stop, he realized that he had crossed more than a dozen zhang in an instant. Everything along the way looked as though it had been crushed beneath dragon-elephants. The speed of his movement technique had far surpassed anything he had once been capable of. Such an enormous improvement was simply horrifying, utterly beyond what a human should be able to achieve, almost like a ghost or god.
"This is the power of a Divine Weapon. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!"
Zhang Zhichong looked dazed as joy gushed forth from his heart. The old man's oft-repeated words surfaced uncontrollably in his mind: Heaven never seals off every road. Indeed, Heaven never seals off every road.
With such divine speed, he might be able to shake off Meng Zhao and the Yangwu Army, flee this place, and from then on let fish leap in the vast sea and birds soar beneath the high heavens.
As for relying on the Divine Weapon's power to kill Meng Zhao, before witnessing Meng Zhao's terrifying martial arts, he might have entertained such thoughts. But now, after being beaten so thoroughly that not a scrap of him was left intact, even leaving behind a heart demon, he no