Chapter 4511 — The Ace Puppet

Condensing the top-tier bomb was the first step; retreating while stalling for time against Cheng Haonan was the second; and the third and most crucial step was to ride the bomb's recoil at the instant of detonation and let it fling him clear.

By comparison, blowing Cheng Haonan to pieces was merely incidental. Without the fearsome recoil of that top-tier bomb, Wei Zhao could never have been hurled fifty li away in a single breath as he was now.

Opening fifty li of distance in an instant was a perilous gambit, to be sure, but it was the bare minimum and the single most essential condition for slipping out from under the Old Sect of the Western Mountains' nose. Otherwise, however confident Wei Zhao might be, even he would admit he could never escape a mountain-opening heretic titan purely by the speed of his movement arts.

He had circulated true qi to shield himself from the recoil in advance, yet caught at such close range by a top-tier bomb, Wei Zhao had still taken no small injury. There was no helping it—that was the least the escape could cost.

Even so, Wei Zhao could not tend his wounds yet. Fifty li might shake off a Nascent Soul expert, might even shake off a Mystic Ascension expert, but whether it could shake off a mountain-opening heretic titan—of that Wei Zhao had not the faintest confidence. So he dared not slacken in the slightest now, and fled as far as he could at any price.

Fleeing at full speed, he could not help silently counting his blessings: thank heaven he had worked out the Super Butterfly Microstep the night before, thank heaven he had happened to break through just this morning—otherwise today's escape could never have gone so smoothly. Had anything gone wrong, even by a single step, he would have died with no place even to be buried.

The direction of Wei Zhao's flight was a range of mountains south of Devil Cold City—the only direction left to him. East and north of Devil Cold City lay the vast open sea; west, too, lay unbroken mountains, but the Central Chamber of Commerce's secret dungeon was to the west.

Having learned his lesson last time, Wei Zhao dared not run headlong into such a dead end—that would be walking straight into the net. After all, a whole pack of Mystic Ascension experts idled over there, and in terms of danger it was not one whit inferior to the mountain-opening heretic titan of the Old Sect of the Western Mountains.

Of course, if he had no other choice, Wei Zhao might yet have fled west to seek life amid death—and if the two sides could be set to tearing at each other like dogs, so much the better. But now that everything was going smoothly, there was naturally no need for him to leap into that pit of nine deaths and one survival of his own accord.

The wind howled past his ears. Wei Zhao reckoned he must be a full sixty li from Devil Cold City by now, and was just about to let himself breathe a little easier when, in the midair not far behind him, a black gale suddenly whipped up, and out of a thick pall of dark mist a figure abruptly emerged—none other than the crimson-haired, green-browed Old Sect of the Western Mountains himself!

"Heh heh, you run fast enough, I'll grant you—but kill two of my disciples in a row, and you think I'll let you off so easily?" The Old Sect of the Western Mountains fixed his triangular eyes on Wei Zhao, his face hideous as he gave a cackling laugh.

Sensing the icy killing intent bearing down from above, Wei Zhao felt himself plunged into an ice cellar, his whole body freezing mid-motion. Everything had gone smoothly—he had in an instant fled fifty li—so why could the man still catch up so effortlessly?

Wei Zhao had weathered more than his share of narrow scrapes, but now, pinned by the Old Sect of the Western Mountains' gaze, he suddenly felt that death had never been so close to him, and even felt the blood in his veins begin to run cold.

So this was a mountain-opening heretic titan! Wei Zhao's face turned ugly, sweat pouring down like rain. He had handled things carefully enough, yet only now did it suddenly strike him that he had never truly grasped the meaning of that title.

For a Golden Core expert to dream of escaping such a being's clutches—and to think of walking away unscathed, at that—from the very moment the notion first entered his head, it had already shown that Wei Zhao was overconfident, or one might even say overconfident past all reason.

"Killing two of my disciples in a row—just finishing you off like this seems too cheap. Even hacking you to ten thousand pieces would scarce ease the hate in this seat's heart. So then, why not just make you into a puppet?" The Old Sect of the Western Mountains was in no hurry to strike the killing blow; instead he stroked his chin and smirked. "Your strength may be nothing to speak of, but your aptitude looks decent enough—you should suit being a puppet right well. Who knows, you might even become an ace puppet with room to grow. Heh heh heh heh!"

Heretic cultivators were ever famed for their coldness of heart. The loss of two disciples struck him no blow as great as ordinary folk might imagine—Cheng Haonan, in particular, was merely a bargain disciple who had never even formally entered the sect, and whether he lived or died hardly mattered. It was this sudden notion that had just occurred to him, rather, that filled the Old Sect of the Western Mountains with uncommon delight.

With Wei Zhao's paltry Golden Core cultivation, he would normally never have entered the notice of a figure so grand; even made into a puppet, he would be only a Golden Core puppet, of use solely against those below the Golden Core level—and what the devil use was that to a mountain-opening heretic titan like himself?

Yet the terrifying power Wei Zhao had unleashed in that instant had been enough to make even the Old Sect of the Western Mountains feel a stir of dread: with nothing but the strength of a Golden Core expert, he had risen above every Nascent Soul expert in the world. A heaven-defying prodigy like that, made into a puppet, would be the finest of the finest—there was every chance he could become an ace puppet!

An ace puppet with room to grow—even if its starting point was only the Golden Core stage, so long as it was tempered and refined without cease, advancing further to Nascent Soul, to Mystic Ascension, even to mountain-opening was no impossible thing. That would be a true heaven-defying weapon of slaughter.

The Old Sect of the Western Mountains suddenly felt this trip had been well worth it. Had Wei Zhao not given him such a shock with that top-tier bomb, he would never have hit upon so exquisite a scheme.

After all, the aptitude demanded of the material for an ace puppet was simply too high—it had to be one in a billion, a prodigy among prodigies. Even the likes of Cheng Haonan and Wu Baoliang fell far short of qualifying; but plainly this Ling Yi who had sprung up from nowhere still had a glimmer of hope. Killing him out of hand would be a waste anyway—no harm in giving it a try.

"Ace puppet? In your dreams!" Wei Zhao was certainly not about to surrender with his hands tied. To actually become this Old Sect of the Western Mountains' ace puppet would be worse than death. He at once worked the Super Butterfly Microstep and turned to flee.

Since he was now already very close to the southern shore, luring the Old Sect of the Western Mountains west by turning the trouble eastward was no longer realistic—he would surely be caught before he managed it. And even if Wei Zhao truly tried, it would be useless, for the whole pack of experts from the Central Chamber of Commerce had long since withdrawn. R1152