Xi Luo's face was pale, his facial features were distorted, his sparse brown hair was soaked with cold sweat, and the hoe in his hand had already fallen to the ground. Around him, thousands of townspeople were like a group of headless flies, screaming and running away, avoiding the beatings of hundreds of soldiers.
These soldiers, wearing leather armor and helmets, holding sticks in one hand and shields in the other, beat everyone recklessly. The townspeople who ran around would be knocked to the ground in two or three hits; those who wanted to resist would be beaten until their faces were covered in blood; the worst luck would even have their necks broken.
Xi Luo regretted it very much.
He was just a small businessman who led a quiet life, had a caring wife and a thirteen-year-old boy, and his life was OK.
It was all because of that idiot Scarface Paz, who instigated everyone to resist taxes and surrounded the ancestral home of Count Carlos Arias, but was ambushed by the guards the Count had sent from his fiefdom.
Although the people of Floro were tough, how could a group of farmers, craftsmen and small merchants armed with hoes and sticks defeat fully armed soldiers? The Arias family was the descendant of the Berserker Merlo, and they were always wild and willful. Who knew what the Count would do to them? Force them to do hard labor? Degrade them to slaves? Or even hang them on the roadside? Xiro didn't dare to imagine his own fate.
He saw that the count's follower Pinto was shouting: "Hit them hard and let these tax-resisting fools remember this lesson for the rest of their lives."
He saw that Scarface Pas was losing his fighting spirit under the attack of Knight Batis and was about to be defeated.
He saw the men, women and children he was familiar with screaming, crying and begging for mercy.
He felt that all his strength was drained away by this nightmarish scene.
Xiro knelt on his knees, put his hands on his chest, lowered his head, closed his eyes and prayed: God of nature, ancient gods, no matter who it is, please save us poor people.
He was not a believer, but he prayed over and over again. It was unclear whether he really had something to pray for or was just waiting for his final fate.
Perhaps some great being really heard his prayers. Just as the soldiers swung their sticks at his head, the sky suddenly darkened. A small dot of yellow light appeared in the sky above the Earl's mansion, and a strange whistling sound echoed throughout the area.
The light spot was getting bigger and smaller, like breathing. Suddenly, countless rocks and stones emerged from the small spot. They rolled and spun, like a naughty boy pouring building blocks out of his pocket. They became bigger and bigger, from nothing to something, and in a blink of an eye they covered half the sky. The Earl's ancestral home was shattered in an instant under the impact of these stones.
Everyone forgot about the battle and stared blankly at the rocks in the sky that kept gathering and combining, eventually forming a large island with many tall buildings on it, standing solemnly in the smoke and dust like a giant beast. Then, as if supported by an invisible hand, the island fell to the ground slowly and heavily, and the flying rocks and rising dust enveloped the crowd. The first to bear the brunt were the earl and his guards who were leaning against the house.
The world fell into darkness...