Finely Dicing Doma into Mince

Another corner of Swordsmith Village. "Ugh, terrifying, truly terrifying! Doma actually used even this move!" In the grass, Hantengu's true body, only a few centimeters tall, stared at the distant ice Bodhisattva with terror written across his face, his voice trembling uncontrollably. Not far away, Yoriichi Type Zero had already become battered and broken. Half of its six arms had been severed, and it was barely holding on against Hantengu's four clones. It was clearly about to be completely scrapped. Turning back to Meikyō's side.