Zhao Dong began to reason it out. Zhao Cheng's sudden disappearance for half a year naturally could not have been concealed from those closest to him.
Yet no one considered the possibility that Zhao Cheng might already be dead. Everyone believed that he had surely gone somewhere to enter secluded cultivation.
When the immortals, Buddhas, gods, and saints of legend attained enlightenment, it was perfectly normal for them to lose themselves in it for years at a time.
It was not that accidents were impossible. But as family, unless the matter had become an irrevocable fact and the truth lay plainly before their eyes, they would not let their thoughts drift toward the worst.
Thus, at such a critical moment, even though Zhao Cheng still had not appeared, the Zhao Family remained relatively composed.
It was much like how no news was the best news.
Therefore, Zhao Dong's subsequent deductions were also founded on the premise that Zhao Cheng was currently in secluded cultivation.
"Xiao Dong, have you considered this possibility? What if your Brother Cheng can't blow up this meteorite either?"
"You may not have any real concept of one-tenth the Moon's volume. An adult weighs, on average, 0.15 tons, while this meteorite has a mass of around a hundred quintillion tons. A human who has even a few tons of strength would already be a little Superman."
"And that's only its mass, not counting the kinetic energy the meteorite itself carries..."
"Judging by the power your Brother Cheng displayed when he left those words on the Moon, unless his strength has increased by several hundred thousand times—several million times—during this period, he might stand a chance."
"In truth, whenever you seriously calculate the mass of celestial bodies, the mass of the universe, you can only feel humanity's smallness