The boy did not feel pleased with the title they used.
Impatiently, he shouted again: "Shut up! All of you, shut up!"
As he shouted, the followers kneeling not far from him once again clutched their chests and collapsed.
This time, instead of convulsing, they bled from every orifice, a truly horrifying sight.
The followers inside the room dared not make a sound, and their indifferent and numb expressions were replaced by fear.
Suddenly—
The boy stopped his frantic yelling, clutching his head in pain, rolling inside the coffin.
"Ah—it's so painful!"
"Someone help me!"
"I don't want to die..."
But none of the followers dared to approach him.
After about ten minutes, the boy's breath weakened, and the wailing gradually faded.
Replaced by a mature man's voice emerging from his mouth.
"Who hurt Vic?"
At this moment, the followers finally reacted, kneeling and approaching, raising their hands once more to salute the boy.
"Welcome back, Master!"
