Chapter: 770
"Why?" Dustin questioned.
"Why?" Torben let out a chuckle.
"That’s new."
He flashed Dustin a devious smile.
"I have always acted without reason. It depends on my preferences. Simply speaking. I do whatever I want. Understand?"
"Yeah." Dustin nodded.
"Since you don’t seem to speak reason, I have nothing else to say to you. Today, I will make you a crippled man and drag you in front of Mr. Robinson for an apology."
"Make me a crippled man?" While Torben was initially taken by surprise, he soon chortled in laughter.
"Hey punk, you’re quite the wild person! Do you know you’re in the Hill family residence? This is an extremely dangerous place. What makes you think you can show off here shamelessly?"
With a calm demeanor, Dustin responded, "My two fists right here."
"Bravo, bravo!" Torben grinned.
"Since you don’t seem to value your life, you can’t blame me for what I’m about to do. Kill him!"
"Charge!" After receiving the order, the hundreds of elite guards brandished their knives. They charged at Dustin at the same time with the overwhelming urge to kill.
Dustin didn’t back down and walked forward with a stoic expression, every step leaving a deep imprint on the ground.
With the distance closing in and only a few meters left between both parties, Dustin’s knees bent slightly before he stepped forcefully onto the ground. He propelled forward like a rocket, following an explosion–like noise that left a crater in its wake. What was left behind in his path were groans and splattered blood.
Protected by his energy sphere, the elite guards were sent flying before they could even touch him. Some suffered broken limbs, while others died instantly. No one could put up a fight against him. Dustin was like a fierce tiger preying upon a flock of sheep–unstoppable and invincible. Within a few minutes, half of the hundreds of elite guards had collapsed to the ground.
"Damn it, this punk has skills!" Torben frowned as he watched Dustin go on his rampage. The Hill family’s elite guards were the cream of the crop. It was a sight to see them fall one after the other.
"Young Mr. Hill, if my observation serves me right, that guy should be a divine–level martial artist." The head of security, clad in a black outfit, suddenly commented.
"Divine–level martial artist? Aren’t you one as well? How confident are you?" Torben responded. To be head of security for the Hill family, one had to be at least a divine–level martial artist.
He was confident. "Don’t worry, Young Mr. Hill. Dealing with this guy will be a piece of cake."