Klein rambled on, his gaze dropping to the hand Meng Chuan had laid on his shoulder before finally rising to Meng Chuan's face.
"Great Emperor, can I lean on your shoulder for a moment?" Klein asked, his face flushed.
Meng Chuan took two wary steps back. He looked at Klein, his expression turning grave.
"What are you trying to do? Men shouldn't be touching each other like that. I'm warning you, don't get any unrealistic ideas!"
Meng Chuan had a bad feeling. When had things in the group taken this turn?
Klein's face grew redder and redder, as if blood were rushing to his head. He watched Meng Chuan retreat and spoke only after a long pause.
"Great Emperor, if you won't let me lean on it, could you please help set the shoulder you broke?"
"It doesn't hurt, but it feels really strange!"
Klein was so furious he nearly had a stroke. He broke my shoulder with two pats. Who am I supposed to complain to?
"Oh." Meng Chuan realized what had happened. With an awkward smile, he set Klein's broken shoulder.
"My mistake, my mistake."
"I was just trying to ease the worries weighing on your heart."
"Oh, right." Meng Chuan remembered the matter at hand. "If I recall correctly, the Fallen Creator was behind the Backlund Smog Disaster too?"
"Yes, the Fallen Creator and the Primordial Witch." Klein nodded. With Meng Chuan beside him, he could say "Fallen Creator" a few times without a care.
He could even curse Adam at the top of his lungs or shout Leodero's name over and over without any trouble.
"I miscalculated. I should've left something behind last time." Meng Chuan shook his head. That bastard, the True Creator, was always stirring up trouble.
The more Meng Chuan thought about it,