Zheng Hang's pupils contracted into pinpoints, a cold gleam reflecting off his glasses.
"The Black Core is a lock forged by a god?"
He silently chewed on this answer, and the fleeting eerie red light in his eyes made Zhao Jingyi shiver suddenly.
Within that red glow, there seemed to be an indescribable emotion—was it shock? Astonishment? Or... excitement?
Zheng Hang was indeed very excited, and he had every reason to be.
After all, a Black Core was always in his stomach—or perhaps one should say Calamity Iron, or the god's forged lock—being digested at any given time.
"So, what I swallow is not just Calamity Iron, but the god's locks forged from Calamity Iron..."
His thoughts surged like tides, countless possibilities surfacing in his mind.
"Then, besides the inherent strength of the Calamity Iron on this lock, could there also remain a fraction of the god's authority? Even just a sliver..."
His thoughts were not without foundation.
