"Mr. Shen, can you help?"
Daoist Qingyue looked at Shen Le with pleading eyes. In the distance, outside the door and beyond the courtyard, several figures paced back and forth, pretending not to care while sneaking glances outside. The younger Daoist priests simply clung to the doorframes and stared:
Sword flight!
Sword Qi Thunderclap!
Who wouldn't want that? They dreamed about it!
"Is Sword Qi Thunderclap really that important?" Shen Le was taken aback instead. Having never played around with flying swords himself, all his impressions of them came from various xianxia novels;
As for their actual destructive power, all he had seen was Li Xingtang's flying sword flying out and then flying back.
How far it had flown and what it had done, Shen Le had no idea. And, in the interest of not leaking military secrets, he had not asked what exactly it had done...
"Of course it's important!" Even Daoist Qingyue's breathing had grown heavy. His beard rose and fell, fell and rose, as if it were about to gain a will of its own and stand up to gesture wildly. "What do you think our flying swords are for? Reconnaissance? Assassination? Guiding people?"
For every word he said, Shen Le nodded once. Daoist Qingyue was practically beating his chest and stamping his feet.
"What do those things amount to? Taking out high-value targets is the true way! Those AWACS planes, electronic warfare aircraft, aerial tankers—are we supposed to do nothing but strike radar stations on the ground all day long?"
Shen Le was instantly filled with respect. Daoist Qingyue might have been old, but he truly had great ambitions. He wanted to make his mark—and he specifically wanted to go after the big targets.
The things you mentioned are targets for fifth-generation stealth fighters! Put a