Seeing Chen Jue stride into the weapons testing area, Liu Chengdong and Elder Zhong exchanged bewildered looks.
Zhang Feipeng held the pistol with its spray-painted black finish and watched Chen Jue's retreating figure. Remembering what he had said, his feelings were complicated. Test my marksmanship? Does he want to catch my bullets barehanded?
Impossible!
However skilled or strong he is, he's still flesh and blood. He can't possibly dodge a large-caliber pistol like this. This isn't some smoothbore gun from centuries ago. One shot would be enough to blow a human body apart...
Zhang Feipeng's eyes flickered with hesitation. Seeing this, Elder Zhong stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "Feipeng, don't overthink it. Go ahead and try. Comrade Chen Jue is rather different. There's a reason he was selected for Special Grade."
As he spoke, Elder Zhong picked up the Tang Dao lying in two pieces on the nearby table and examined it. Not only had it snapped in the middle, but a row of shallow fingerprints remained at both ends where Chen Jue had gripped it to break it.
"Fingerprints in a blade? Kneading iron like clay?"
"No... impossible!"
"This is a special alloy, not the low-purity wrought iron they used in the past... That kind of strength..." Zhang Feipeng's pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints at the sight.
He practiced martial arts himself, so naturally he knew of the ability to leave fingerprints in iron. Long ago, Gan Fengchi, a senior Wudang swordsman, had demonstrated his ability to knead iron like clay during his travels through the martial world. But the iron Gan Fengchi had gripped was not a modern special alloy. It was the low-hardness wrought iron of the past. Wrought iron was soft, malleable, and easily deformed, with low strength and hardness. A little force was enough