“Ah...”
Amidst the absolute domain woven with boundless laws, a soft sigh drifted over.
Accompanying the sound came a wisp of deathly, decaying aura.
Within the crowd,
Jiang Fan was gripping a pitch-black writing brush.
Carved onto the barrel were two characters: “Goujue.”
The tip of the brush was saturated with thick ink, its strange, vivid crimson looking exceptionally enchanting against the black void.
“In the end, I cannot wait until the very end...”
Jiang Fan murmured softly, gazing into the depths of the pitch-black void with a regretful sigh.
He raised his arm.