Overall, Jiu Ming was still relatively safe. The Dragon's Neck Jewel in his hand gave off a faint glow, while the almost tangible shield around him quivered slightly. Jiu Ming had already pushed this thing's power to its absolute limit...
Even so, it was like a bubble cast into raging waves, in danger of bursting at any moment. Not to mention the "transparent" fragments and black threads drifting past from time to time—spatial rifts.
Anyway, wasn't this world's space a little too fragile?
If one had to define the attacks of spatial rifts, the simplest analogy was this: space was a sheet of paper, the rift was a pair of scissors cutting through that paper, and the target was whatever had been drawn upon it. Once the paper tore, the things on it would naturally tear apart along with it.
Thus, after a palm-sized "transparent" shard brushed against it, the shield protecting Jiu Ming and keeping him safe amid the storm was sliced open with a huge gash, exposing him to the tempest. The frail +++3.+s+ weak Hairball was ground into Hairball dust in an instant, making Jiu Ming's heart twitch painfully.
Was he about to be ground into dust too?
Wisps of grayish-green mist were stripped from his body, then seized by the chaotic, disorderly storm and torn away to who knew where. Jiu Ming himself was suffering the same fate. Well, being torn apart by five horses only meant being pulled in five directions. Every inch of his body, meanwhile, was being tugged outward in a different direction. And those directions weren't fixed—one moment it was to the left, the next it abruptly changed to the right.
Even metal could be bent back and forth until it tore like paper. As for a person being bent back and