His thoughts were a jumble, as if he had fallen into a fog, unable to find a single concrete answer.
Every possibility felt like a tentacle hiding in the shadows, silently wrapping around him.
Chu Fan snapped his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
When he opened them again, he had forcibly suppressed the turmoil within.
'If I can't find the answer, I'll set it aside for now.'
'The matter of the pollution is fundamental and must be solved, but it's not the most urgent task at hand.'
He had too many other things to do.
Turning around, his gaze fell on a pile of objects in the corner of the room, shimmering with a cold, dark light—they were the Black Gold Silk Gloves looted from the Moon Worship Cultists.
The material of these gloves was unique and extraordinarily tough.
"Tianxing," Chu Fan called out in a low voice.
Footsteps sounded, and Zhao Tianxing entered in response.
