Three days earlier, Coleman, still in the cabin, suddenly got excited and awakened the Curse Flame that had been dormant within him.
The Curse Flame was still arrogant, even haughty.
Perhaps its recent large-scale devouring gave it confidence, or perhaps it had just gained consciousness and developed true self-awareness.
In short, he was arrogant and conceited, showing no sign of being subservient to others.
It has not learned a thing or two about the Lord of Curses; it is like a newborn cub relying on its 'mother's' power.
This piqued Coleman's interest.
He wanted to see if this person and the curse would behave differently when faced with immense temptation.
Using some persuasive techniques, coupled with the seductive power of the evil god, and the true form of the evil god in the pupils being isolated from the control of the Lord of Curses.
To Coleman's surprise, this Curse Flame was no different from a human.
With just a few words, he was lured to a high place, and he actually began to have the idea of seizing power.
It's truly... unbelievable, and utterly ironic.
Who would have thought that a curse that claims to bewitch would actually be bewitched by humans!
Coleman's body trembled with laughter, yet he still made the promise.
'If we can reach the core of the curse, we will use the power of the evil god to help it become the Lord of Curses!'
The flames, bewitched by the power of the evil god, agreed to this unbelievable condition almost without hesitation.
That's the core of the curse; if anything goes wrong, the Lord of Curses will be severely injured.
While it might not directly cause its demise, it could certainly render a century of accumulated efforts futile.
Ultimately, they will most likely only be able to eke out a living existence on this lifeless the Island.
At that time, so-called immortality will become an eternal shackle.
Let it be trapped in this endless prison of time, never finding peace.
The core of the curse is a place that only the curse or its branches can reach.
After all, a cunning master would never let his human servants know his weaknesses.
But it could never have imagined that a part of its own body would betray it.
This left Coleman speechless for a moment.
One can only sigh silently, "Indeed, all intelligent beings are the same."
Endless greed.
The evil god scoffed, "Shouldn't this be all thanks to me?"
If it weren't for my 'bewitching power' taking effect, how could that little flame have dared to harbor any thoughts of rebellion?
How could the hand betray the brain?
Coleman simply smiled when he heard this.
That's not wrong, but he couldn't possibly praise a 'bomb' hidden inside someone's body.
Would an evil god really have good intentions?
If it were done with good intentions, it would be a disservice to His evil nature!
This bastard only coveted my soul, attempting to devour it so he could then inhabit this body and be reborn!
Then we returned to the depths of the ancient tomb.
By this time, the offering that Coleman had placed such high hopes on had already penetrated deep into the land.
But this team seemed to have lost its initial energy and spirit; they were like walking corpses.
His eyes were bloodshot, his muscles were tense, and his movements were stiff.
But they themselves didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and even seemed to be in the mood to chat.
"Look, treasure, treasure!!!" one of them shouted, his legs began to move wildly as he lunged forward, throwing himself onto the so-called treasure.
It was a black iron box, its interior gleaming with a golden light.
Gold bricks were laid out among them, tempting the hearts of all who came.
"Mine, mine, all mine!"
"Get off! That thing is mine!" another man yelled, trying to tear the person stuck to it off.
Suddenly, a gust of wind from a punch came and knocked the two of them to the ground.
Looking up, I saw the ever-composed bald man.
He was no longer the same person he had been before.
Mania, excitement, mixed with abnormal trembling.
His face was dark, his veins were bulging, and saliva was dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Those are mine! They're all mine!" The voice was hoarse like a vengeful ghost, utterly terrifying.
The group ignored the two people standing not far away; it seemed that all they saw was that inexplicable treasure.
Coleman crossed his arms and asked with a smile, "Guess who did this?"
Manster glanced at someone who seemed uninvolved, and said meaningfully, "Of course it's the Lord of Curses."
Offerings, of course, should be left for the Lord to handle.
As an apostle, all I need to do is add a little something extra.