"Not over yet!"
Taking advantage of the brief moment while his body was drifting in midair, Cheng Ye compressed the air again and blasted it out violently.
His body, which had just fallen two meters, shot upward another five meters like a rocket reignited.
He seemed to defy the laws of physics, inhaling and exhaling in quick succession like stepping on his own feet, using the recoil of the Air Cannon to keep climbing; every jet pushed his height up another step.
Humans' longing for the sky, it had to be said, has always been etched into their bones.
Only after he fired six Air Cannons in a row, when a clear sour ache spread through his lungs and his body reached its limit, did Cheng Ye stop and look down.
At this moment he had risen to over twenty meters in the air, and the full view of Dapo Town behind the floodwall lay spread out before his eyes:
Staggered houses, busy figures, winding river channels—he could even see what was happening over by the hydroelectric station.
