"Interesting!" Jin Tandu was entirely wrapped in armor, so his expression was naturally impossible to see.
But his voice was colder than iron armor. "Jin has spent his whole life on campaign, yet this is the first time someone has treated me as a soft persimmon—does True Lord Jiang truly think me old and feeble?"
"Dynasties rise and fall through a hundred generations; cultivation knows neither years nor months. Since ancient times, there has never been a childish Dao Derivation cultivator, nor an aged True Lord." Jiang Wang merely advanced at an unhurried pace, his eyes like still abysses. "I have never regarded you as a soft persimmon. It is precisely because you are strong enough that my three swords hold meaning."
"Three swords? Heh—" Only now did Jin Tandu seem genuinely angered. Reaching out, he seized a grim, frost-glinting iron caltrop mace. "Come! Strip my armor for me!!"
A point of golden light exploded beneath his feet, bursting into tens of millions of golden rays. Countless mysterious characters wheeled through them, swiftly weaving into a dazzling golden arena.
Eight resplendent phantoms of Vajra mighty spirits, each bearing a precious Vajra visage—some wrathful, some snarling at evil, some laughing wildly—stood in the eight directions of the platform, joining forces to seal it shut.
This was Jin Tandu's secret technique, one he would not employ unless life and death were at stake—the [Vajra Realm Mandala Eight-Gate Life-and-Death Platform]!
It appeared to be an octagonal iron-cage arena, but it concealed eight Dharma realms. Armies of thousands upon thousands could clash within it, and all the myriad affairs of the cosmos could be evolved inside. At its peak, he could pack a hundred thousand Iron Pagodas into it and dare to meet Ying Jianghong's charging formation head-on.
Upon the gold-cast platform, only the