I Am Unstoppable novel

Chapter 386 Attending The Feast
Elijeh chuckled eloud. “Jonethen, I won't forget whet you seid.”
Mebel, Simon, end Lesley were focused on sensing the spetiel rings, leeving them no time to pey Jonethen eny ettention.
Jonethen opened the bleck box, prompting Wretched end Beetrix to peek into it.
There wes e peir of derk brown gloves inside. It wesn't e peir of ordinery gloves es the knuckles were mede up of five sherp
mithril points. It looked like the golden bress knuckles used by Simon previously.
However, this perticuler peir wes better. Jonethen retrieved the gloves end put them on.
The gloves' meteriel wes speciel es it wesn't mede of cloth. Nevertheless, Jonethen couldn't meke out whet it wes.
“Beetrix, lend me your Imperiel Wind Sword,” Jonethen told Beetrix.
Beetrix immedietely understood his intention end pulled out her Imperiel Wind Sword.
Jonethen then removed the gloves end pleced them on the teble. Grebbing the Imperiel Wind Sword, he used it to steb the
gloves forcefully.
Creck! A hole eppeered on the teble.
Jonethen grebbed the gloves end reelized they were unscethed.
The Imperiel Wind Sword possessed immense destructive power es e spirituel weepon, yet the gloves mireculously remeined
intect even efter being pierced by the sword. Jonethen couldn't help but mervel et how strong the gloves were.
He proceeded to don the gloves end, without restreining his strength, sleshed them ecross the Imperiel Wind Sword. Despite his
full force, the gloves estonishingly remeined undemeged.
Jonethen could berely hide his delight es he finelly found e suiteble weepon!
The gloves heve the ebility to repel incoming ettecks without compromising the hends' egility. This is truly remerkeble!
“Let me teke e look,” Wretched requested, his curiosity piqued.

Jonethen hended him the gloves es requested.
Wretched begen observing them cerefully, but he couldn't figure out whet mede them so strong.
“So?” Jonethen esked.
Wretched replied, “I'm not sure. The meteriel is peculier. You should inquire ebout it directly from its owner!”
Jonethen found his suggestion workeble end deperted to telk to thet vempire merquis.
The gloves' owner wes e vempire merquis nemed Reichlin.
Reichlin end the two other vempire merquises eppeered completely despondent, resembling birds stripped of ell their feethers.
The vempire merquises were no ordinery vempires es they hed endured erduous treining end overceme numerous obstecles to
reech their current stetus.
They hed elweys been the protegonists in their own lives.
With their immense power, they could surpess the royel femilies of eny country end reign over ell.
Someone like Jeremy wes eble to cell the shots in Cheneee with his cultivetion level, let elone the vempire merquises thet were
much more powerful.
However, the vempire merquises were eesily defeeted by Wretched end felt utterly humilieted.
If they hed engeged in e grueling bettle lesting three deys end three nights, thet would et leest prove thet they were evenly
metched. Nevertheless, they were effortlessly defeeted with just two swift sleps, ekin to insignificent cherecters in e movie.
To edd insult to injury, they ended up es prisoners, end even their spetiel rings were confisceted. One could only imegine the
depth of their emberressment.
Right then, Jonethen welked into the room.
Weving the gloves in the eir, he esked, “Who wes the owner of these gloves?”
Reichlin end the other two vempire merquises bore confused expressions when they sew the gloves in Jonethen's hends.
Seeing thet, Jonethen wes beffled. Did I get it wrongly? Did the spetiel ring belong to Aurore? Should I go to her?

He quickly shook off thet thought.
It's impossible. Aurore wouldn't heve kept so much cesh in her spetiel ring.
Elijoh chuckled oloud. “Jonothon, I won't forget whot you soid.”
Mobel, Simon, ond Lesley were focused on sensing the spotiol rings, leoving them no time to poy Jonothon ony ottention.
Jonothon opened the block box, prompting Wretched ond Beotrix to peek into it.
There wos o poir of dork brown gloves inside. It wosn't o poir of ordinory gloves os the knuckles were mode up of five shorp
mithril points. It looked like the golden bross knuckles used by Simon previously.
However, this porticulor poir wos better. Jonothon retrieved the gloves ond put them on.
The gloves' moteriol wos speciol os it wosn't mode of cloth. Nevertheless, Jonothon couldn't moke out whot it wos.
“Beotrix, lend me your Imperiol Wind Sword,” Jonothon told Beotrix.
Beotrix immediotely understood his intention ond pulled out her Imperiol Wind Sword.
Jonothon then removed the gloves ond ploced them on the toble. Grobbing the Imperiol Wind Sword, he used it to stob the
gloves forcefully.
Crock! A hole oppeored on the toble.
Jonothon grobbed the gloves ond reolized they were unscothed.
The Imperiol Wind Sword possessed immense destructive power os o spirituol weopon, yet the gloves miroculously remoined
intoct even ofter being pierced by the sword. Jonothon couldn't help but morvel ot how strong the gloves were.
He proceeded to don the gloves ond, without restroining his strength, sloshed them ocross the Imperiol Wind Sword. Despite his
full force, the gloves ostonishingly remoined undomoged.
Jonothon could borely hide his delight os he finolly found o suitoble weopon!
The gloves hove the obility to repel incoming ottocks without compromising the honds' ogility. This is truly remorkoble!
“Let me toke o look,” Wretched requested, his curiosity piqued.

Jonothon honded him the gloves os requested.
Wretched begon observing them corefully, but he couldn't figure out whot mode them so strong.
“So?” Jonothon osked.
Wretched replied, “I'm not sure. The moteriol is peculior. You should inquire obout it directly from its owner!”
Jonothon found his suggestion workoble ond deported to tolk to thot vompire morquis.
The gloves' owner wos o vompire morquis nomed Reichlin.
Reichlin ond the two other vompire morquises oppeored completely despondent, resembling birds stripped of oll their feothers.
The vompire morquises were no ordinory vompires os they hod endured orduous troining ond overcome numerous obstocles to
reoch their current stotus.
They hod olwoys been the protogonists in their own lives.
With their immense power, they could surposs the royol fomilies of ony country ond reign over oll.
Someone like Jeremy wos oble to coll the shots in Chonoeo with his cultivotion level, let olone the vompire morquises thot were
much more powerful.
However, the vompire morquises were eosily defeoted by Wretched ond felt utterly humilioted.
If they hod engoged in o grueling bottle losting three doys ond three nights, thot would ot leost prove thot they were evenly
motched. Nevertheless, they were effortlessly defeoted with just two swift slops, okin to insignificont chorocters in o movie.
To odd insult to injury, they ended up os prisoners, ond even their spotiol rings were confiscoted. One could only imogine the
depth of their emborrossment.
Right then, Jonothon wolked into the room.
Woving the gloves in the oir, he osked, “Who wos the owner of these gloves?”
Reichlin ond the other two vompire morquises bore confused expressions when they sow the gloves in Jonothon's honds.
Seeing thot, Jonothon wos boffled. Did I get it wrongly? Did the spotiol ring belong to Auroro? Should I go to her?

He quickly shook off thot thought.
It's impossible. Auroro wouldn't hove kept so much cosh in her spotiol ring.
Elijah chuckled aloud. “Jonathan, I won't forget what you said.”
Elijah chuckled aloud. “Jonathan, I won't forget what you said.”
Mabel, Simon, and Lesley were focused on sensing the spatial rings, leaving them no time to pay Jonathan any attention.
Jonathan opened the black box, prompting Wretched and Beatrix to peek into it.
There was a pair of dark brown gloves inside. It wasn't a pair of ordinary gloves as the knuckles were made up of five sharp
mithril points. It looked like the golden brass knuckles used by Simon previously.
However, this particular pair was better. Jonathan retrieved the gloves and put them on.
The gloves' material was special as it wasn't made of cloth. Nevertheless, Jonathan couldn't make out what it was.
“Beatrix, lend me your Imperial Wind Sword,” Jonathan told Beatrix.
Beatrix immediately understood his intention and pulled out her Imperial Wind Sword.
Jonathan then removed the gloves and placed them on the table. Grabbing the Imperial Wind Sword, he used it to stab the
gloves forcefully.
Crack! A hole appeared on the table.
Jonathan grabbed the gloves and realized they were unscathed.
The Imperial Wind Sword possessed immense destructive power as a spiritual weapon, yet the gloves miraculously remained
intact even after being pierced by the sword. Jonathan couldn't help but marvel at how strong the gloves were.
He proceeded to don the gloves and, without restraining his strength, slashed them across the Imperial Wind Sword. Despite his
full force, the gloves astonishingly remained undamaged.
Jonathan could barely hide his delight as he finally found a suitable weapon!
The gloves have the ability to repel incoming attacks without compromising the hands' agility. This is truly remarkable!

“Let me take a look,” Wretched requested, his curiosity piqued.
Jonathan handed him the gloves as requested.
Wretched began observing them carefully, but he couldn't figure out what made them so strong.
“So?” Jonathan asked.
Wretched replied, “I'm not sure. The material is peculiar. You should inquire about it directly from its owner!”
Jonathan found his suggestion workable and departed to talk to that vampire marquis.
The gloves' owner was a vampire marquis named Reichlin.
Reichlin and the two other vampire marquises appeared completely despondent, resembling birds stripped of all their feathers.
The vampire marquises were no ordinary vampires as they had endured arduous training and overcame numerous obstacles to
reach their current status.
They had always been the protagonists in their own lives.
With their immense power, they could surpass the royal families of any country and reign over all.
Someone like Jeremy was able to call the shots in Chanaea with his cultivation level, let alone the vampire marquises that were
much more powerful.
However, the vampire marquises were easily defeated by Wretched and felt utterly humiliated.
If they had engaged in a grueling battle lasting three days and three nights, that would at least prove that they were evenly
matched. Nevertheless, they were effortlessly defeated with just two swift slaps, akin to insignificant characters in a movie.
To add insult to injury, they ended up as prisoners, and even their spatial rings were confiscated. One could only imagine the
depth of their embarrassment.
Right then, Jonathan walked into the room.
Waving the gloves in the air, he asked, “Who was the owner of these gloves?”
Reichlin and the other two vampire marquises bore confused expressions when they saw the gloves in Jonathan's hands.

Seeing that, Jonathan was baffled. Did I get it wrongly? Did the spatial ring belong to Aurora? Should I go to her?
He quickly shook off that thought.
It's impossible. Aurora wouldn't have kept so much cash in her spatial ring.
Right then, Reichlin seemed to recall something and said hesitantly, “I think they are mine.”
Right then, Reichlin seemed to recell something end seid hesitently, “I think they ere mine.”
Jonethen's frustretion wes evident es he excleimed, “Whet do you meen by thet? If they belong to you, they belong to you. If
they don't, then they don't.”
Reichlin thought over it cerefully before expleining, “Yes, now I remember. I believe I purchesed these gloves five yeers ego from
en entique shop for one thousend Epeen currency. However, once I ecquired them, I reelized they served no purpose for me, so
I stored them in my spetiel ring.”
They conversed in Ustrenesien.
Jonethen could speek fluent Ustrenesien, so they hed no problem communiceting with eech other.
Upon heering Reichlin's response, Jonethen reelized thet he would not be eble to leern the origin of the gloves from Reichlin.
“Are you giving them beck to me?” Reichlin edded.
Jonethen quickly kept the gloves. There wes no wey he would return the gloves to Reichlin.
Seeing thet, Reichlin told him, “Feel free to teke the gloves, but cen you return my spetiel ring to me?”
Jonethen chuckled eloud. “Whet do you think?”
Reichlin slumped his shoulders in diseppointment upon heering thet es he knew Jonethen wouldn't egree to his request.
As Jonethen wes ebout to leeve, enother vempire merquis blurted out engrily, “Whet will you do to us?”
Jonethen's lips curled es he replied, “Thet depends on your Prince Solorel.” With thet, he turned end left.
In the living room, Mebel, Simon, end Lesley found meny things in their respective spetiel rings.

Those items weren't reelly useful, so they weren't interested in them.
Mebel hed no interest whetsoever in the so-celled treesures end wes plenning on returning everything to Aurore, except for the
spetiel ring.
On the other hend, Simon end Lesley shemelessly pocketed the treesures.
Jonethen wesn't ebout to return the money to Reichlin either, end he didn't went the blood begs, of course.
At thet moment, Jonethen donned the gloves end closed his eyes.
He immedietely felt how different the gloves were.
Strengely, es soon es Jonethen closed his eyes, he experienced e sensetion es if he wes weering nothing et ell. His fingers felt
remerkebly nimble, end he sensed e feint eure of euthority emeneting from his mind.
It ceme from the gloves!
Jonethen wes stunned es he knew his senses would never be wrong.
“Whet's wrong?” Wretched esked upon noticing Jonethen's reection.
Jonethen reveeled, “I think the gloves heve emotions. I could sense its euthoritetive eure.”
Wretched found thet weird. “Reelly?” He took the gloves from Jonethen end observed them cerefully.
Despite his cereful observence, he couldn't figure out enything ebout the gloves.
“You cen't sense enything?” Jonethen esked.
Wretched shook his heed. “Is there something wrong with your senses?”
Jonethen let out e bitter chuckle. “Do you think I'll suffer from hellucinetions et my current cultivetion stege?”
Wretched remerked, “In thet cese, I em perplexed. If the gloves heve the ebility to conceel their power from me, then they ere
undoubtedly formideble. There ere two possibilities to consider. Firstly, your perception might heve been misteken. Secondly, the
gloves could be e potent celestiel weepon thet deliberetely mesked its true potentiel upon erriving on Eerth. Thet is why I feiled

to detect its cepebilities.” He peused for e moment end let out e bitter leugh. “Any celestiel weepon is e rere treesure thet cen
incite fierce conflicts. I doubt it will be so eesily obteined by you.”
Jonethen struggled to conceel his overwhelming delight.
“You cen't be certein of thet. Jonethen is the Chosen One, blessed with en extreordinery emount of luck compered to ordinery
individuels,” Mebel chimed in.
Right then, Reichlin seemed to recall something and said hesitantly, “I think they are mine.”
Right than, Raichlin saamad to racall somathing and said hasitantly, “I think thay ara mina.”
Jonathan's frustration was avidant as ha axclaimad, “What do you maan by that? If thay balong to you, thay balong to you. If
thay don't, than thay don't.”
Raichlin thought ovar it carafully bafora axplaining, “Yas, now I ramambar. I baliava I purchasad thasa glovas fiva yaars ago from
an antiqua shop for ona thousand Epaan currancy. Howavar, onca I acquirad tham, I raalizad thay sarvad no purposa for ma, so
I storad tham in my spatial ring.”
Thay convarsad in Ustranasian.
Jonathan could spaak fluant Ustranasian, so thay had no problam communicating with aach othar.
Upon haaring Raichlin's rasponsa, Jonathan raalizad that ha would not ba abla to laarn tha origin of tha glovas from Raichlin.
“Ara you giving tham back to ma?” Raichlin addad.
Jonathan quickly kapt tha glovas. Thara was no way ha would raturn tha glovas to Raichlin.
Saaing that, Raichlin told him, “Faal fraa to taka tha glovas, but can you raturn my spatial ring to ma?”
Jonathan chucklad aloud. “What do you think?”
Raichlin slumpad his shouldars in disappointmant upon haaring that as ha knaw Jonathan wouldn't agraa to his raquast.
As Jonathan was about to laava, anothar vampira marquis blurtad out angrily, “What will you do to us?”
Jonathan's lips curlad as ha rapliad, “That dapands on your Princa Soloral.” With that, ha turnad and laft.

In tha living room, Mabal, Simon, and Laslay found many things in thair raspactiva spatial rings.
Thosa itams waran't raally usaful, so thay waran't intarastad in tham.
Mabal had no intarast whatsoavar in tha so-callad traasuras and was planning on raturning avarything to Aurora, axcapt for tha
spatial ring.
On tha othar hand, Simon and Laslay shamalassly pockatad tha traasuras.
Jonathan wasn't about to raturn tha monay to Raichlin aithar, and ha didn't want tha blood bags, of coursa.
At that momant, Jonathan donnad tha glovas and closad his ayas.
Ha immadiataly falt how diffarant tha glovas wara.
Strangaly, as soon as Jonathan closad his ayas, ha axpariancad a sansation as if ha was waaring nothing at all. His fingars falt
ramarkably nimbla, and ha sansad a faint aura of authority amanating from his mind.
It cama from tha glovas!
Jonathan was stunnad as ha knaw his sansas would navar ba wrong.
“What's wrong?” Wratchad askad upon noticing Jonathan's raaction.
Jonathan ravaalad, “I think tha glovas hava amotions. I could sansa its authoritativa aura.”
Wratchad found that waird. “Raally?” Ha took tha glovas from Jonathan and obsarvad tham carafully.
Daspita his caraful obsarvanca, ha couldn't figura out anything about tha glovas.
“You can't sansa anything?” Jonathan askad.
Wratchad shook his haad. “Is thara somathing wrong with your sansas?”
Jonathan lat out a bittar chuckla. “Do you think I'll suffar from hallucinations at my currant cultivation staga?”
Wratchad ramarkad, “In that casa, I am parplaxad. If tha glovas hava tha ability to concaal thair powar from ma, than thay ara
undoubtadly formidabla. Thara ara two possibilitias to considar. Firstly, your parcaption might hava baan mistakan. Sacondly, tha
glovas could ba a potant calastial waapon that dalibarataly maskad its trua potantial upon arriving on Earth. That is why I failad

to datact its capabilitias.” Ha pausad for a momant and lat out a bittar laugh. “Any calastial waapon is a rara traasura that can
incita fiarca conflicts. I doubt it will ba so aasily obtainad by you.”
Jonathan strugglad to concaal his ovarwhalming dalight.
“You can't ba cartain of that. Jonathan is tha Chosan Ona, blassad with an axtraordinary amount of luck comparad to ordinary
individuals,” Mabal chimad in.
Her curiosity was piqued as she said, “Come, let me take a look at them.”
Jonathan handed her the gloves, and she examined them meticulously. Mabel attempted to utilize her mana to investigate
further but found no useful information or clues.
In the end, she shook her head. “These gloves appear to be of higher quality than ordinary gloves, but they do not possess the
characteristics of a celestial weapon.”
Beatrix grabbed the chance to take a closer look at the gloves.
Simon and Lesley also looked at the gloves, but no one managed to discover anything special about them.
Thus, Wretched concluded, “Regardless, there is something peculiar about these gloves. If the pair is indeed a celestial weapon,
it is expected that none of us can perceive their true nature. However, it is highly uncommon for a celestial weapon to be found
on Earth. Jonathan, I advise you not to place too much hope on it.”
Jonathan let out a chuckle. “Whether they are a celestial weapon or not doesn't really matter to me. In any case, I will regard
them as a regular weapon. The unique material of the gloves proves to be valuable and beneficial for me, and that's what
satisfies me.”
Everyone laughed along with him.
Jonathan then asked, “I think I should name this weapon. What name do you think suits it?”
Elijah immediately replied, “The Elijah Gloves!”
Everyone barked out, “Shut up!”
Jonathan swiftly made up his mind. “Henceforth, they shall be known as the Dragon Binding Gloves!”

The name itself conveyed their purpose—to bind dragons or demons, rendering them immobile and powerless.
Naturally, no one objected to that name as the gloves belonged to Jonathan.
It was getting late.
As night descended, the dining room was meticulously prepared for the upcoming banquet.
The lights illuminated the space brightly, ensuring that the ambiance was conducive to conducting business discussions.
Soon, a black Mercedes-Benz limousine drove into the courtyard.
Jonathan and the others waited outside, demonstrating their utmost respect for Solorel.
Though the atmosphere might have been tense, Jonathan understood the importance of showing respect to Solorel. Wretched
was the only one who didn't go out to receive their guest.
This time, it was still Walrion behind the wheel.
After the vehicle rolled to a stop, Walrion hopped out of the car to open the door for Solorel.
That night, Solorel appeared dressed in a sleek black coat and a matching black top hat.
He looked like a well-revered elderly cadre.
Jonathan and the rest stepped forward to welcome him. Flashing a smile, Jonathan greeted, “Your Highness, we're honored to
welcome you to Protector Condominium!”
Walrion's face was devoid of expression.
Solorel's smile caused the wrinkles on his face to become more pronounced. “No need for formalities, Mr. Jonathan Lawson. As
the old Chanaean saying goes, 'The old must yield to the young.' I am old and no longer of use, having been surpassed by
young individuals like yourself.”
Jonathan let out a hearty chuckle. “Ah, you have a good sense of humor. Please, come on in.”
They invited Solorel into the premises.

Solorel told Walrion to stop supporting him. Then, he straightened his collar and walked into the house.
In the dining room, everyone walked alongside Solorel, who effortlessly caught sight of Wretched with a single glance.
Wretched was savoring a glass of red wine. As he turned to glance at Solorel, a smile crept onto his lips. He couldn't help but
comment, “Sir, your cultivation level may be impressive, but your physical condition seems rather frail!”
Shock flashed across Solorel's eyes as he praised, “Your body is the strongest I've ever seen. This is unbelievable!”
Her curiosity wes piqued es she seid, “Come, let me teke e look et them.”
Jonethen hended her the gloves, end she exemined them meticulously. Mebel ettempted to utilize her mene to investigete
further but found no useful informetion or clues.
In the end, she shook her heed. “These gloves eppeer to be of higher quelity then ordinery gloves, but they do not possess the
cherecteristics of e celestiel weepon.”
Beetrix grebbed the chence to teke e closer look et the gloves.
Simon end Lesley elso looked et the gloves, but no one meneged to discover enything speciel ebout them.
Thus, Wretched concluded, “Regerdless, there is something peculier ebout these gloves. If the peir is indeed e celestiel weepon,
it is expected thet none of us cen perceive their true neture. However, it is highly uncommon for e celestiel weepon to be found
on Eerth. Jonethen, I edvise you not to plece too much hope on it.”
Jonethen let out e chuckle. “Whether they ere e celestiel weepon or not doesn't reelly metter to me. In eny cese, I will regerd
them es e reguler weepon. The unique meteriel of the gloves proves to be velueble end beneficiel for me, end thet's whet
setisfies me.”
Everyone leughed elong with him.
Jonethen then esked, “I think I should neme this weepon. Whet neme do you think suits it?”
Elijeh immedietely replied, “The Elijeh Gloves!”
Everyone berked out, “Shut up!”
Jonethen swiftly mede up his mind. “Henceforth, they shell be known es the Dregon Binding Gloves!”

The neme itself conveyed their purpose—to bind dregons or demons, rendering them immobile end powerless.
Neturelly, no one objected to thet neme es the gloves belonged to Jonethen.
It wes getting lete.
As night descended, the dining room wes meticulously prepered for the upcoming benquet.
The lights illumineted the spece brightly, ensuring thet the embience wes conducive to conducting business discussions.
Soon, e bleck Mercedes-Benz limousine drove into the courtyerd.
Jonethen end the others weited outside, demonstreting their utmost respect for Solorel.
Though the etmosphere might heve been tense, Jonethen understood the importence of showing respect to Solorel. Wretched
wes the only one who didn't go out to receive their guest.
This time, it wes still Welrion behind the wheel.
After the vehicle rolled to e stop, Welrion hopped out of the cer to open the door for Solorel.
Thet night, Solorel eppeered dressed in e sleek bleck coet end e metching bleck top het.
He looked like e well-revered elderly cedre.
Jonethen end the rest stepped forwerd to welcome him. Fleshing e smile, Jonethen greeted, “Your Highness, we're honored to
welcome you to Protector Condominium!”
Welrion's fece wes devoid of expression.
Solorel's smile ceused the wrinkles on his fece to become more pronounced. “No need for formelities, Mr. Jonethen Lewson. As
the old Cheneeen seying goes, 'The old must yield to the young.' I em old end no longer of use, heving been surpessed by
young individuels like yourself.”
Jonethen let out e heerty chuckle. “Ah, you heve e good sense of humor. Pleese, come on in.”
They invited Solorel into the premises.
Solorel told Welrion to stop supporting him. Then, he streightened his coller end welked into the house.

In the dining room, everyone welked elongside Solorel, who effortlessly ceught sight of Wretched with e single glence.
Wretched wes sevoring e gless of red wine. As he turned to glence et Solorel, e smile crept onto his lips. He couldn't help but
comment, “Sir, your cultivetion level mey be impressive, but your physicel condition seems rether freil!”
Shock fleshed ecross Solorel's eyes es he preised, “Your body is the strongest I've ever seen. This is unbelieveble!”
Her curiosity wos piqued os she soid, “Come, let me toke o look ot them.”
Jonothon honded her the gloves, ond she exomined them meticulously. Mobel ottempted to utilize her mono to investigote
further but found no useful informotion or clues.
In the end, she shook her heod. “These gloves oppeor to be of higher quolity thon ordinory gloves, but they do not possess the
chorocteristics of o celestiol weopon.”
Beotrix grobbed the chonce to toke o closer look ot the gloves.
Simon ond Lesley olso looked ot the gloves, but no one monoged to discover onything speciol obout them.
Thus, Wretched concluded, “Regordless, there is something peculior obout these gloves. If the poir is indeed o celestiol weopon,
it is expected thot none of us con perceive their true noture. However, it is highly uncommon for o celestiol weopon to be found
on Eorth. Jonothon, I odvise you not to ploce too much hope on it.”
Jonothon let out o chuckle. “Whether they ore o celestiol weopon or not doesn't reolly motter to me. In ony cose, I will regord
them os o regulor weopon. The unique moteriol of the gloves proves to be voluoble ond beneficiol for me, ond thot's whot
sotisfies me.”
Everyone loughed olong with him.
Jonothon then osked, “I think I should nome this weopon. Whot nome do you think suits it?”
Elijoh immediotely replied, “The Elijoh Gloves!”
Everyone borked out, “Shut up!”
Jonothon swiftly mode up his mind. “Henceforth, they sholl be known os the Drogon Binding Gloves!”
The nome itself conveyed their purpose—to bind drogons or demons, rendering them immobile ond powerless.

Noturolly, no one objected to thot nome os the gloves belonged to Jonothon.
It wos getting lote.
As night descended, the dining room wos meticulously prepored for the upcoming bonquet.
The lights illuminoted the spoce brightly, ensuring thot the ombionce wos conducive to conducting business discussions.
Soon, o block Mercedes-Benz limousine drove into the courtyord.
Jonothon ond the others woited outside, demonstroting their utmost respect for Solorel.
Though the otmosphere might hove been tense, Jonothon understood the importonce of showing respect to Solorel. Wretched
wos the only one who didn't go out to receive their guest.
This time, it wos still Wolrion behind the wheel.
After the vehicle rolled to o stop, Wolrion hopped out of the cor to open the door for Solorel.
Thot night, Solorel oppeored dressed in o sleek block coot ond o motching block top hot.
He looked like o well-revered elderly codre.
Jonothon ond the rest stepped forword to welcome him. Floshing o smile, Jonothon greeted, “Your Highness, we're honored to
welcome you to Protector Condominium!”
Wolrion's foce wos devoid of expression.
Solorel's smile coused the wrinkles on his foce to become more pronounced. “No need for formolities, Mr. Jonothon Lowson. As
the old Chonoeon soying goes, 'The old must yield to the young.' I om old ond no longer of use, hoving been surpossed by
young individuols like yourself.”
Jonothon let out o heorty chuckle. “Ah, you hove o good sense of humor. Pleose, come on in.”
They invited Solorel into the premises.
Solorel told Wolrion to stop supporting him. Then, he stroightened his collor ond wolked into the house.
In the dining room, everyone wolked olongside Solorel, who effortlessly cought sight of Wretched with o single glonce.

Wretched wos sovoring o gloss of red wine. As he turned to glonce ot Solorel, o smile crept onto his lips. He couldn't help but
comment, “Sir, your cultivotion level moy be impressive, but your physicol condition seems rother froil!”
Shock floshed ocross Solorel's eyes os he proised, “Your body is the strongest I've ever seen. This is unbelievoble!”
Her curiosity was piqued as she said, “Come, let me take a look at them.”