I'm Proud of My Contract, but You Say It's a Talent

"Let me go, and I will only take away your abilities and spare your life, how about that?" Meng Qinghe said, staring seriously at the man in front of him. The man pressed the brim of his peaked cap, and moved the hand that turned into a spike against Meng Qinghe's abdomen slightly forward, piercing the skin, and threatened in a stern voice: "Are you dreaming?" "Don't think you can get away with just making jokes, hand over your things quickly!" Hearing this, Meng Qinghe agreed repeatedly, and then under the man's gaze, he slowly put his hand into his pocket and took out a notebook. "No, I found it," Meng Qinghe said to the man, "the deed that can make people dream." Then gently tear the paper apart. The man was furious and was about to explode when he raised his head and met a pair of golden eyes, as hot as lava and as majestic as a crown. Meng Qinghe opened his mouth as if in judgment: "Then..." It was as if there were invisible chains swimming in the void, and the Sword of Damocles hung high above his head. "The contract is established and the deal is concluded." These eight words seemed to appear in the minds of the two of them out of thin air, like a seal at the signature of a contract, carrying unquestionable credibility. The man's eyes closed, his body fell limply to the ground, and his sharp hands returned to their original shape, as if he had just fallen asleep. Meng Qinghe held the newly generated deed paper in his hand and sighed slightly: "You dream, and I take away your powers. What a fair deal." Then he lightly touched the man's neck, put on his peaked cap, and whistled: "I won't spare your life if I lie to you."