A sea of green fire spread across the Mass Grave.
The flames burned wildly through the withered grass and tombstones, yet did not truly ignite anything.
The flames seemed like phantoms, giving off no heat at all—only an indescribable, bone-piercing chill.
The first to reach out for the gold bar was one of Scar-faced man's accomplices.
Before he could pull his hand back, the green flames crawled up his arm.
He lowered his head and stared at his burning arm, stunned for a second. Then, to everyone's surprise, he let out a strange laugh, as though he had seen something immensely gratifying.
His mouth suddenly flew open, and a harsh "heh heh" sound came from his throat.
Then—
With a crisp metallic clink, a silver dollar actually fell out of his mouth!
Then a second one.
A third one.
The clinking never ceased.
Silver dollars rolled out of his mouth one after another, as though his throat had become a money bag that could never be emptied.
The silver dollars fell to the ground.
They glimmered with a cold white sheen in the green firelight.
Every one of them was brand-new, smooth and gleaming as though they had just been minted.
At the same time—
The man's body began to shrivel.
It was as though something had drained him from within. His skin began to cave in, his bones started to contract, and his entire body became like a rag wrung dry, gradually growing smaller, drier, and more withered.
Yet a satisfied smile still hung on his face.
By the time the last silver dollar rolled out of his mouth, his body had shrunk into a shriveled mass,
Like a corpse that had been air-dried for years.
It toppled lightly to the ground and never moved again.
Throughout the entire