Despite a minor incident, Cheng Zongyang didn't stop and continued on his way out of the city.
To him, the incident was like a small pebble tossed into a calm lake. It created a few faint ripples, but it was nothing significant.
Once Cheng Zongyang was out of the city and a short distance from the gates, he picked up his pace. He used his Body Technique to speed toward the great mountain where he had first arrived.
Dressed in black, his clothes fluttered slightly in the wind. His expression was grim, and a hint of coldness glinted in his eyes.
Putting his long-mastered Body Technique to use, his figure flickered past like a phantom, wind whipping at his heels. Each step seemed to land on empty air, light yet swift. The surrounding scenery blurred as it rushed past, leaving only a faint afterimage in his wake.
