"Saint Rosse, what are you doing here?"
The moment Rosse arrived at the Figarland family, Saint Garling rushed out and stood at the door to confront Rosse.
No need to guess, he already knew it should be about the Tiger incident being exposed.
Or, Rosse might not even care whether they did it; he'd simply pin the matter on them.
But this thing was indeed done by them.
However, on this matter, he didn't intend to break with Rosse, so he'd only casually picked someone, used a Parasitic Fruit user to manipulate him, made Tiger absolutely convinced of what he heard, and sent him to assassinate Moa.
Seeing Moa's weak state, obviously the assassination, though successful, hadn't posed a life-threatening danger, which was also part of Saint Garling's plan.
This incident was also a probe.
He wanted to see how Rosse would react after moving against Moa.
Saint Garling's face tightened slightly, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to act at any moment.
From their previous meetings he already knew Rosse was the kind to have some reservations, but not many.
If it really came to blows, although it wouldn't be possible to kill him, it would surely blow things up big.
"You came at the right time."
Rosse put Moa to one side; Gion, who had already rushed over on hearing the news, was standing there.
While Rosse and Saint Garling exchanged words, a lot of onlookers had already gathered.
There were already many outsiders in the Holy Land, and now that Rosse and the Figarland family were in conflict, there were even more people wanting to eat the melon.
"You used to be the strongest among the Celestial Dragons. I've improved a bit this time, I came especially to spar," After setting down Moa, Rosse stepped forward.
For everyone present, in a blur of a moment they saw Rosse appear before Saint Garling.
His speed was so fast that no one there could see clearly.
Only his target, Saint Garling, who himself had considerable strength, thanks to extreme vigilance and instinctive Observation Haki, barely caught a trace, sensing Rosse's movement.
Saint Garling's pupils suddenly constricted, alarm bells ringing in his heart.
Without daring to hesitate, Saint Garling roared, drew the sword at his waist, wrapped it with Conqueror's Haki, and launched an upward slash at Rosse.
'Sparring my ass!'
'Clearly this bastard holds a grudge and is just finding any excuse to come and beat me up to vent!'
'Damn it!'
'That lowly underling didn't even die, is it necessary?'
Saint Garling cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth, only hoping this slash could stall even a moment to buy him some breathing room.
However, before his sharp blade could fully fall, it met Rosse's seemingly casual punch, which was nevertheless wrapped in Conqueror's Haki and his Devil Fruit power.
BANG!
An ear-splitting roar like thunder exploded, and a visible shockwave violently spread outward.
Saint Garling felt an overwhelming, unstoppable terrifying force transmit through his blade, pure and domineering, straight through his sword and arm, striking his chest.
Even his sword, comparable to a supreme great blade, seemed to give a mournful metallic cry.
Immediately, Saint Garling's whole body was struck as if by an invisible giant hammer; man and sword flew off the ground like an out-of-control cannonball, tearing through the air with a wailing sound as he was hurled backward.
In an instant his flying figure slammed into the lavish, extravagantly made family gate.
BOOM!
Several thunderous crashes echoed; the solid golden frame twisted and deformed, the heavy door panels shattered into pieces, wood chips, gold leaf, and exquisite rare stone carvings flew like scraps in a hurricane.
As Saint Garling's body continued to fly at high speed, the golden avenue inside the Figarland gate, the symbol of the Celestial Dragons' supreme dignity was literally scraped and ground by his body.
Where earth met gold could not withstand it; along the track he cut, there was instantly a deep, bottomless, terrifying trench.
Charred marks spread along the trench edges, shattered gold tiles were plowed aside, like a death road forcibly opened by a giant bulldozer.
At the same time, Saint Garling's body, at a speed the eye could hardly follow, was blasted nearly a thousand meters, smashing through three magnificent palaces along the way.
Finally, like an out-of-control comet, he crashed into the base of a fourth palace and finally came to a stop.
Thick walls were driven in to form a huge human-shaped dent; domes cracked, the ground trembled violently, countless sculptures shattered, this splendid building was destroyed more than half in a moment while he struggled to stop his motion, leaving only wreckage.
"SAINT ROSSE!!!"
Saint Garling roared, utterly miserable now.
He lay prostrate amid rubble, gasping for air, his breath in utter disarray.
Although he had no broken bones, the violent impact and that brutal force had left him dizzy; his internal organs felt turned upside down.
His sword arm trembled violently, the web of his hand numb, he could hardly hold onto his sword.
'Madman! He really is a madman!'
Rosse had no intention to kill him, but this single strike already trampled the Figarland name into the ground.
With that one hit, the Figarland generation would never raise their heads again.
The key was, he knew Rosse's intent, but he lacked the strength to resist.
He tried desperately to stop his body, but Rosse's blow made him feel as if he'd collided not with a strong opponent, but with some rule-like Devil Fruit.
Saint Garling simply could not control his body; under Rosse's overwhelming force he could only be flung backwards crazily, and only when Rosse's power subsided could he stop his motion.
But Rosse possessed no special Devil Fruit, and his strength shouldn't be influenced by Devil Fruit abilities.
This could only mean Rosse's power was far more terrifying than he had estimated.
This confrontation was different from before at the World Government building gate; Rosse had used full strength this time.
Only by truly fighting could one know how terrifying Rosse's power was.
He was no longer on the same level, perhaps even the one on the throne wouldn't fare well.
Thinking of this, even Saint Garling was startled.
Rosse was only twenty years old now, while that one had already lived more than eight hundred years.
Yet in his feeling, Rosse might even be stronger.
There truly are such born monsters in this world.
Nearly a thousand meters away, Saint Garling lay on the ruins, looking at the proud figure standing there, and unconsciously a trace of dread appeared in his eyes.
Perhaps, fighting Rosse seriously is not a good choice.
Either wait for Rosse to die, or let that one above fight him, maybe that would be the right choice.