Using his own white feathers as the fundamental basis for attack, if one reaches the extreme, it would be terrifying, far surpassing ordinary royal weapons.
But very few could walk this path to its limit.
Because the process was simply too painful.
Like an old eagle that had aged.
If it wanted to be reborn and soar the skies again, becoming the undisputed king of the sky, it would have to bear the pain of breaking and plucking out all the old feathers, claws, and ramshackle teeth, and replace them with brand new talons and teeth.
Er Wu Shuang was naturally not old and senile, but he did just that.
He plucked out his feathers one by one and then stored them within his body, for nearly an era.
Finally, Er Wu Shuang had tempered his body, which was as if meticulously carved from white jade, into feathers that were no weaker than a Divine Weapon.
