Chapter 4511 — The Ace Puppet
The Blossom Guardian · Page 1 of 2
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.