The blood-red lance in Zheng Ming's hand slowly turned into a pool of blood, and at the moment this blood formed, Zheng Ming quickly threw Starry Gold and various other materials into that pool of blood.
The blood was silent, yet those materials silently and steadily melted, eventually turning into powder and becoming part of the blood.
As more and more materials were added, the originally blood-red pool slowly began to darken, and in the end, it transformed into a jet-black like ink.
When the ink-like blood quietly floated without the slightest ripple, a trace of satisfaction appeared in Zheng Ming's expression. With a flicker of his thoughts, the ink-black liquid began to take the shape of a knife in the void.
The black blade was three feet, three inches, and three tenths long!
It bore no patterns, no law, but at the moment it began to form, cracks appeared in the surrounding void.
