"So, does Lady Feiyali still have any similar contracts like the one just now?"
Motan ignored the unusually dark face of the Wealth Saintess, and completely disregarded the God Technique Array that seemed ready to tear him apart at any moment. He casually asked as if chatting, and then added, "Preferably the kind that doesn't make people want to tear it up."
Feiyali snorted and tossed another roll of parchment to Motan: "I, Phyllis Graham, guarantee with my character that this contract hasn't been tampered with."
Rip—
Along with a pleasant ripping sound, Ivy was stunned, and Otto's shoulder trembled.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself."
Motan offered an apologetic smile, casually tossed the two pieces of parchment to the ground, and poured himself a cup of [Golden Brilliance]: "With those socks of yours that look like they've never been worn, your character is hardly fit for a guarantee."
Feiyali, who was about to curse him, was stunned and said in disbelief, "You could tell?"
