Watching the extraordinary item that had helped him so many times break, Oliver forcibly suppressed his grief and reached into his coat, preparing to flee with a speed-enhancing charm.
He knew full well that without the leader present, even the entire Bone Worship Society might not be a match for an Evil Spirit!
That Evil Spirit... How did it get out?
Oliver was filled with doubts as he recalled how certain the leader had sounded earlier.
The next moment, his hand froze in midair.
He realized he couldn't control his own body!
Possession was the ability ghostly spirits excelled at most.
And the Evil Spirit's possession was on a level Oliver could never hope to resist.
"You're 'Owl' Oliver?"
Then Oliver heard a voice in his mind.
"Impossible... How could an Evil Spirit sealed away for hundreds of years still have its reason? That's not how mysticism works!" Oliver roared in his mind.
The next moment, he felt as if a giant hand had seized his spirit. Countless icy blades sliced through him, filling him with agony worse than death.
As an Evil Spirit, directly attacking another person's spirit was instinctive.
"I'll ask. You'll answer."
Aaron spoke calmly.
"As you wish, sir..."
Oliver immediately became exceedingly deferential. After all, a Fourth Primordial was indeed a major figure in the mystic world.
"When will Spet return?"
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, sir..." Oliver's heart was heavy with bitterness. He knew that one of the society's members in the tomb had betrayed them, leaking their information.
Being interrogated directly through his spirit made it difficult for him to lie, because the person you could never deceive was yourself.
"How much property do you have in your camp, and where is it?"
"In my tent, there's a sum of money we just received, 2,300 pounds