“You think iron walls can hold a judge of the Golden Core?!”
Yan Tiexin roared, his composure fully shattering under the weight of claustrophobic fury.
He bit into his right palm, smearing his own blood across the flat of his golden sword. His Half-Step Golden Core sped up to maximum spinning speed, the sheer friction of his tightly packed spiritual sea turning the surrounding air into a shimmering heat mirage.
Nine golden fire serpents, each thick as an ancient oak and crowned with blinding solar lances, coiled around his blade.
The Nine Dragons Sovereign Smite.
It was a royal war-technique designed to breach castle gates and burn up core formations in a single bone-shaking discharge.
“Die in your own fire, mongrels!” Yan screamed, lunging forward with both hands on the handle.
The nine solar lances detached from his blade. It roared across thirty yards of open foundry floor with the sound fury of an erupting volcano.
