126 Donst blame me for getting nasty (1/2)

A frenzied maelstrom of dust and rocks of all sizes, some as big as houses, came raining down from the sky like a hailstorm. Screams and shouts were echoed out as panic quickly blossomed among the nobles and their men.

The dust gathering blocked out the sun and could suffocate a grown man.

A plethora of debris flying from Hartley's clash with the saint in the distance was like artillery falling to the earth, the deadly shower was wreaking a horrific havoc within the densely packed lines of armoured men.

The scene was bloody and brutal, craters were being opened up in every direction with explosions of swirling dust.

People were climbing over the bodies of their dead or injured colleagues to escape the carnage, even ignoring the horrific pleas for help.

The booming sounds of the falling boulders were incessant. It seemed like the falling debris was endless, some of the lucky soldiers would get hit by fist size rocks and kept moving forward with their bleeding wounds. The unlucky ones were turned to paste or disappeared entirely under huge slabs of rocks.

Baron Hontian was being escorted away from the affected area by a large group of his elite soldiers, in this chaos he had no idea where the other nobles disappeared to, and to be honest, he didn't care.

At a time like this, it was every man for himself.

Sitting atop his black horse and desperately cutting through the thick veil of dust, he and his entourage were headed away from the Western Hills.

He still couldn't come to terms with how sour the day's events had turned out. His most reliable backer Song Zemin, who he had pinned all his hopes on, was thrashed before his very eyes. The half-saint's whereabouts was now uncertain, no one knew if he was dead or alive.

”Sir look out.” Baron Hontian got a warning shouted at him just in the nick of time, he turned his head to see a shadow flying through the dust and in his direction. With bulging terror stricken eyes, he crouch lower into the saddle of the galloping horse until the thick maine of the horse's back tickled his nose.

Whoosh.... the shadow approaching at light speed was a boulder the size of a carriage that went flying over his head, it's close proximity ruffling his robe with its residual wind. It then rammed into three or four of the elite escorts on his left. Bang! Horses and men were swept away with a sickening sound.

Baron Hontian wiped the sweat from his brows as he raised his head, he had to recite a prayer under his breath even though he wasn't religious. In a situation like this, a noble's life was no more valuable than anyone else's. Anyone could be crushed at random by the swirling debris, with this in mind, he was no longer distracted by his own thoughts, his only mission was to make it out of the western hills alive and in one piece...

Every object in the vicinity of the clash between Hartley and the saint flew around wildly, sometimes even impeding Hartley's vision for a split second, he was then blitzed in an instant by the staggeringly bright incoming fist, the blow was lightning-fast, probably the fastest he'd ever seen. Hartley took defensive measures with nerves jangling within his stomach.

He was feeling an unprecedented sense of danger, a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and ran into his eye, bringing a stinging sensation that he ignored.

With his sphere twinkling intermittently, and a gravity-pulse orbiting around his body pushing away the falling debris, Hartley tried dashing to the left with his lightning-quick reactions. His manuever left after-images and dust trailing in his wake. It didn't help much though.

Every single movement from the saint made the space between them wobble like jello in an unstable manner. When the man whizzed forward, the only thing visible was a streak of light. The falling boulders that came crashing down at random intervals seemed to intentionally take a detour around the man's body.

The chaotic debris swimming through the air around the two combatants turned to powder as the yellow fist seem to predict and follow Hartley's movements. The fist collided with Hartley's blue sphere, producing a deafening boom and sending gushes of sparkling blue lights flying out.

Without any suspense or warning, Hartley's sphere disintegrated with a bang, collapsing into tiny blue particles which were sent spraying back at him. Hartley was sent flying backwards with the kinetic energy like a shotgun shell.

Even though his life was in danger, Hartley couldn't help but be impressed.

When an expert went over the threshold for tolerance of power on the mortal plane, it would produce dangerous eruptions of black energy.

This guy obviously had supreme control over his powers, not once had his movements or strikes caused an eruption of the chaotic black energy.

After his recent breakthrough into the 9th layer and his subsequent training, Hartley had assumed himself ready to face the frontal assault of a Saint. He was mistaken.

He quickly found that a Saint's power was almost beyond measuring. The shock-waves from the attack were still rummaging through his body causing him to vomit blood in mid-air.

He landed 100 meters away bouncing among some jagged rocks with debris still showering down around him. Blue flashes diverted any dangerous materials falling towards him as he crawled back to his feet.

The man's punch hadn't even directly come into contact with his body.

This was a shocking level of power. If not for his sphere and the gravity-pulse siphoning off most of the power from the strike, he would have been ripped to bits.

”Oh,” said the man with surprise in his voice, ”so you are a little bit capable.”

The saint finally stood still long enough for Hartley to see the man's features. The white hair man with a sunken face had spoken with both surprise and contempt in his voice .

He was surprised that Hartley hadn't died in the exchange, but still held contempt for the futile struggle of an ant beneath his feet.

The man was short of stature, dressed in blue with skin the colour of dry wheat. With hands behind his back he slowly moved forward watching the bedraggled Hartley pull himself up from the floor.

With cold eyes staring at Hartley, he talked as he moved. ”You can only blame yourself, for it is you who have offended people you shouldn't.”

Hartley struggled to his feet letting out a few grunts of pain. He brushed down his now tattered robe and answered.