The military chaplain of the Chongxin Army's Vanguard Corps flew about three meters high.
When he landed, his spine broke in half, white bones pierced through his body, and dark red liquid mixed with fragments of internal organs continuously poured from his mouth.
Bare hoofs of horses whisked up grass leaves, flying past his eyes.
On the verdant green plains, butterflies and bees flew together, red patches slicing through the rough lines of the gray-yellow military uniforms like arrows.
The sound of spears shattering was incessant, and amidst the flying splinters of wood, Battle Cultivators soared one after another.
The light reflected off the shiny armor swept back and forth before his eyes.
Those red blurred patches also sliced back and forth through the gray-yellow coarse lines.
In the last blurry vision he had, only the retreating backs of nearly a thousand Battle Cultivators were visible.
"Don't run, come back!" he mumbled, but no one heard him.
