Black-Moon King stood quietly on top of the mountain. He drew out a knife.
Han Sen thought a King class knife would radiate, but the knife in his hands did not. This was a knife that was narrow like a crescent moon, but it was black, and it did not reflect a speck of light. It was as dark as the night.
Han Sen looked at the knife and figured that it was probably only about three feet long. He wondered why it would have to be ground and sharpened on a mountain-sized whetstone.
Black-Moon King had not added the finishing touches yet, so he put his hand on the mountain. And then, the yellowish mountain produced waves of water. The waves rose at the bottom of the mountain and surged up towards the top, headed for the peak. They gathered atop the peak, and atop a rock there.
That rock had a deep groove, and when the water waves reached it, they poured down into it.
