"Yes, I can make this my blood soldier. ”

When Mao Rui was a child, he imagined what Death looked like, and in his opinion, Death should be dressed in a tattered robe, with a huge robe and hat covering his face, and a terrifying and terrifying grimace when he lifted his hat, holding a scythe taller than a human in his hand, mercilessly harvesting life.

I looked at myself in the mirror again, the robe and grimace were already there, and then a big scythe, it was a living death.

Sit down with your knees crossed, and first carefully sketch out the specific shape of the scythe in your mind. Then he took out the jade slip that recorded the refining of blood soldiers, and carefully read the refining method again.

According to Yu Jian, the method of refining blood soldiers can be divided into two types. A blood soldier that condenses blood in the body to form a soldier embryo, and the blood soldier refined by this method can be arbitrarily changed into various shapes. Another method is to release the blood out of the body and fix it into a certain shape, which can only be converted into blood unless it is melted and re-refined.

Taking the jade slip away from his forehead, Mao Rui's eyes flickered: "Refining in the body is changeable, but the power is much inferior to refining in vitro, and this change has to adapt to the use of various weapons, and I don't like it either." ”

After some thought, Mao Rui decided to refine his blood soldiers outside his body.

After adjusting the lower state, Mao Rui began refining. Slither left wrist open, blood gushing out. With his right hand, he manipulates the blood to condense in mid-air. According to the shape outlined in the brain, with the aid of divine consciousness, the mass of blood slowly deformed.

As time passed, the blade of the sickle had condensed ninety percent, and the handle of the sickle had not yet begun to condense. And Mao Rui's face and lips had turned pale.

"Damn, this used 20% of my blood, and I didn't even finish the blade, this is to squeeze me dry. He scolded and scolded, but he still cut the wrist that was about to heal again without hesitation.

Time passed, Mao Rui's blood loss had reached thirty-five percent of the total, cold sweat kept bursting out, and even the meaning had begun to blur, and the sickle handle had only completed half of what he imagined, and it was only half a human height when it stood up.

"No, my consciousness is already blurred, even if the refining is successful, I will pass out, and if I don't get treatment, I'm afraid I'll die." ”

Slit a hole in the scarred left wrist again, and took the time to condense a fireball and slam it on the door. A roar directly smashed the wooden door, and the roar spread throughout the base.

Everyone at the base heard the roar and walked out, not knowing what had happened.

Mao Rui, whose consciousness was becoming more and more blurred, heard the approach of footsteps, the corners of his mouth showed a curvature, and he also cut a cut on his right wrist, and began to pinch with both hands to accelerate the condensation of blood.

When everyone found the source of the sound and came to Mao Rui's door, they happened to see Mao Rui in the room falling.

When Mao Rui woke up, he found himself in Zhao Gan's treatment room, with a needle in his hand and a blood transfusion. Zhao Gan saw him wake up, walked over and said, "Your kid's life is really hard, he has lost about forty-five percent of the blood in his body in a short period of time, and he is not dead." If this is an ordinary person, it will be too late to even rescue. ”

Mao Rui knew that the terrifying amount of blood loss that could make ordinary people die, because of the cultivation of the blood method, made him survive. He smiled and didn't say anything more about it, but asked, "Where is my blood soldier?"

"Blood soldier, is it the blood-red scythe, it's still in your room, and no one has touched him. Zhao Qian was stunned for a moment, and then said.

Because before he fell into a coma, Mao Rui's consciousness was already very vague, and he didn't know if the blood soldiers had been refined, and now when he heard Zhao Gan say this, he couldn't wait to take a look.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Seeing that Mao Rui was about to pull out the blood vessel, Zhao Qian immediately stepped forward to stop it.

Pushing Zhao Qian away, Mao Rui said with a smile: "I shed so much blood just to refine the blood soldiers, and now I don't know if it's completed, how can I be willing if I don't take a look." After saying that, he pulled out the blood vessel and walked out.

Looking at Mao Rui, who was stumbling along, Zhao Qian shook his head helplessly. Afraid that he would have an accident, he had to follow.

When he came to the room, Mao Rui saw at a glance the big sickle lying on the ground with a magnificent shape. The handle of the sickle is two meters long, and the whole body is straight, and the surface is not smooth, with thick spiral lines swirling. A spear head stands out from the front of the shank. The blade is one meter long, and the curved blade flashes with a sharp edge. The three inverted blades on the back of the knife are arranged in sequence. A deep blood groove penetrates the knife surface. At the other end of the handle, a sharp thorn the size of a dagger towers.

Looking excitedly at the blood-colored scythe, both in size and shape, it was just as imagined in his mind, and Mao Rui knew that he had succeeded.

Reaching out, he sucked the sickle into his hand and weighed the weight, which was just right for himself. Hold the end of the handle and raise your hand with a wave. This wave didn't matter, but it scared Zhao Qian at the door, and even Mao Rui himself widened his eyes. With the swing of the sickle just now, the bed in the room was directly split in half, leaving a deep mark on the wall.

Leaning over to the wall and looking, Mao Rui's neck shrunk, and he didn't dare to try it in the room anymore, so he dragged the sickle and walked out. Zhao Qian was left alone looking at the drag marks on the ground and was silent for a long time.

After turning all the trees in a certain area of the forest into various shapes of wood. Mao Rui, who had already lost too much blood and was still very weak, sat on the ground with a pale face and held his beloved scythe to gasp.

Looking at the big scythe in his hand, Mao Rui's pale face showed an excited smile. After the test just now, Mao Rui knew that the blood soldiers he had refined were extremely sharp. Even a hard boulder can only be halved with a slight swing of the sickle, and the cross-section is flat and smooth.

After resting for a while, Mao Rui didn't get up, so he sat there and raised his hand and threw it. The scythe came out of its hand, spun forward in mid-air, and the sound of whirring wind was heard. On the way, it was blocked by trees and cut it directly, unable to make the sickle pause at all. It was not until it flew a certain distance, the entire blade was inserted into the ground, the sickle was exposed to the ground, and the hum continued to tremble, that it stopped.

Mao Rui sat in the distance, changed a gesture with one hand at the sickle, and shouted "melt" in his mouth. I saw that the scythe standing there quickly turned into a pool of blood. Stretching out his palm towards the bloody water, his five fingers quickly bent into a claw-like shape, and his arm moved slightly and pulled back. The blood quickly flew towards Mao Rui, and while he was still on the way, Mao Rui spat out the word "condensation", and the blood was transformed into a sickle again, and with the sound of the whirring wind, it fell steadily into Mao Rui's hands.

Since then, Mao Rui has been constantly adapting to the sickle in the forest, and at the same time constantly deducing various ways of using it in his mind and practicing it.