Chen Ke emerged from the side of the bridge pier, where the building's roof was within reach. The pointed brick arch had been blackened by fire, and there was a big hole on the one side.
He estimated the distance from the bridge pier to the roof's big hole to be about three to four meters—jumpable with his athletic ability.
Below the bridge pier, he could still see pedestrians running on the street, dressed in ancient attire, shouting in English that Chen Ke could not confirm the exact meaning of—possibly a lost type of English with a unique accent.
Chen Ke hoisted the longsword onto his shoulder, stepped back a few paces, and mustered his emotions. It would have been more certain to jump without anything in hand, but carrying a sword made it questionable.
"Hiya!" Chen Ke gritted his teeth, powered his thighs, and began to run, taking a six-step lead before leaping on the seventh, drawing an arc in the air and landing on the wooden floor with a loud "clang."
