Lin Fan reached out and felt in the trouser pocket of the God of Strength—who was bare-chested, since to the God of Strength, that proud physique was the finest clothing of all.
He touched a glove.
It was a seemingly ordinary woolen glove, patterned with flowers and a handshake, looking as mundane as a pair bought for five yuan at a wet market, save for a faint, uncanny aura it faintly radiated.
Chapter 581