The Fist God Will Protect Me
Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios
Ba Country.
It was a rare sunny day.
Qing Mu, who looked like a youth, was standing in the yard. At this moment, there was a small wooden statue of a man who punched out above the firewood.
He couldn't see his face clearly, but he could sense the other party's fist intent.
It felt mighty and extraordinary.
Qing Mu clasped his hands together in prayer.
He had been worshipping the Fist God for more than ten years.
At this moment, his hands were wrapped in pitch-black cloth, and his fists had a biting cold fist intent.
"Fist God, please protect my fists. I'm going to join the battle and kill the demons to earn battle merits."
"Might of the Fist God!"
At that moment, a woman walked out with a simple bow. She looked at Qing Mu and said.
"Time to go."
"Alright, Mother." Qing Mu took the luggage and said seriously.
"Mother, I'll set off if there's nothing else. I want to make a name for myself this time. "