The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 839 - 583: Who is the Invader Anyway?_2

Chapter 839: Chapter 583: Who is the Invader Anyway?_2

The light was dazzling, the teleportation gate kept expanding, and finally stabilized.

A black void replaced the glowing teleportation gate. It was a curse beast with a huge mouth, resembling a pure black leopard, but its mouth could split open like petals blooming.

In a world without magic, it was also forced to adapt to a barren environment, so it evolved a strong cursed poison, and its body was incredibly strong and agile.

But it was also untamed and rebellious.

The black panther roared, its petal-like mouth opening wide, its broken lips vibrating with the sound waves of its roar, which sounded like steel needles being smashed toward everyone present.

The undead wizards had been ready for a while, and their magic was not far behind. The mechanized wizards unleashed magical tentacles that shot out and locked around the cursed black panther’s neck, like a suddenly striking poisonous snake, incredibly fast.

Manan: "?"

Wait a minute, why are these people using magic with a strong cursed aura, looking even more evil than the secret techniques I mastered?

Who exactly is the intruder here, why can they use curses so freely.

He once again had this thought.

The cursed black panther was entangled by the tentacles, forcibly dragged outward.

It struggled backward, instinct telling it that it should never jump in directly like this, or it would surely die.

However, the remaining undead wizards had already unleashed dazzling magical formations in the air, and spells quickly launched from their lips, striking the cursed black panther with blinding light.

Four consecutive explosions, and the body of the strong cursed black panther was already bloodied, its body unable to resist the immense force pulling it out of the teleportation gate.

Along with it were bundled supplies being pulled out in a flurry.

Various cursed items scattered to the ground.

Upon landing, although its neck was still tightly bound by the magical tentacles, the black panther’s movement seemed to become completely free the moment its paws touched the ground.

It disappeared in an instant, and the tentacles sank into the ground.

It suddenly turned into a fishing activity, a dreadful stalemate began, and the wizards were at a disadvantage in this fishing power struggle.

But the cursed black panther did not emerge after diving underground.

Because the remaining few had already prepared their magic, pointing their wands at the ground.

The ultimate fishing technique is to blow up the whole pond, no fish, regardless of size, would survive. And the situation now was just like that.

Manan: "I told you it was all over."

The undead had a completely opposite attitude: "We hit the jackpot."

The items scattered on the ground exuding an aura of misfortune.

To others, using these might raise suspicions of being cursed or corrupted, and they’d keep their distance from these things, as far as possible.

But to the undead, as long as it could increase their attributes or offer some help, it was good stuff.

They could bear any cost.

Underground was not a place to stay long.

"Boom!"

The moment the panther peeked out, a magic bombardment greeted it.

With its rigid body lying on the ground, the black panther did not move, already deceased.

The glass cannon never disappoints, pure and decisive numerical beauty, disregarding the enemy’s tricks, touching it meant certain death.

The undead’s target had already shifted to Manan.

Magic gathered and released.

Their vision was filled with the multicolored light of magic, and when the undead opened their eyes again, they found themselves outside the dungeon.

"Damn it!"

"I didn’t even pick up all my good stuff."

"Next time, loot first before acting, what a loss."

Even with just a glance, the undead’s keen eyes could easily tell the value of those items, missing them was a loss.

The lottery key in hand didn’t seem appealing anymore.

...

In the Cursed Land, before the teleportation gate.

Mag’s face was grim, his nephew Manan had lost contact, along with his [Black Holy Son] being destroyed.

It wasn’t due to concerns about blood relations; blood ties carried no emotional implications for them. It was just that he trusted Manan’s abilities with a batch of resources.

Now, even the cursed black panther responsible for transporting the goods had died.

A loss indeed.

But it wasn’t all losses.

His subordinate from the front line quickly sent word that they had barely managed to defeat all enemies at the cost of two deaths.

The remaining three had the opportunity to gather with other survivors.

"It seems as long as we win, those spatial barriers will shatter, and everyone can reunite."

Reuniting was the chance for a massive counter-offensive.

"Continue!" Mag told the new team.

The team would need to carry [Black Holy Sons] to ensure timely communication.

Then he called together over a dozen teams.

"You have other tasks." Mag said to the teams, "You don’t need to break out or win; you just need to... bring back items from that world."

"Yes!" they nodded, indicating they understood the mission objective.

The sounds were somewhat chaotic, the unique chaos of the Cursed Land, without rhythm, but when they bared their fangs, no one could match them.

Before Mag stood a massive female living organism, its body writhing, attached to a magical statue, a symbiotic relationship making the writhing mass inseparably integrated with the statue.

[Black Holy Mother], they called it.

A peculiar living relic cultivated by curses and secret techniques.

The Black Holy Mother’s body wriggled, a finger-sized tumor swelling up, pulsating as it breathed. After a while, the tumor burst, and a multi-legged worm crawled out.

Someone was already waiting beside it, grabbing the slime-covered worm and placing it on the altar, along with relic fragments, hero bones, and some special minerals dug from a mine.

The chaotic energy possessed great power.

These composed the nutrients needed for the [Black Holy Son], and after consuming enough, the multi-legged worm curled up like a centipede, the items it had ingested taking effect, its body gradually stiffening, eventually dying completely.

A new cursed relic was created.

The process was somewhat lengthy, but thankfully only the worm’s feeding and death took time, and they could be mass-produced simultaneously.

Watching the teams charge into the teleportation gate without hesitation, Mag’s eyes were full of anticipation.

He needed more help, and that help wouldn’t come for free; he needed to bring back results, specifically those related to magic.

The allure of magic, no one could resist.

...

Within the Sin Dragon Castle.

Lind manipulated power for personal gain; after the undead killed the "invading Red Spirit," he kicked them out immediately, collecting the bundles of resources.

Evil cursed weapons, putrid food like some jerky resembling reproductive organs, the situation in the Cursed Land was worse than he had imagined.

"It makes the dragon feel sick." The Sin Dragon retched.

"Isn’t your divine authority ability a curse?" Lind casually asked, lifting an arrow.

Curses and arrows were the best partners. Brief in hand, those struck would be cursed.

"It depends on the type of curse; these things just smell foul to me." The Sin Dragon retorted, "Are you up to some mischief again?"

"Mischief? I think your assessment is off."

"Stuffing some junk to the undead, not letting them buy, only acquiring through lotteries, isn’t that mischief?"

"You’re wrong." Lind shook his head, "It’s their greed at play. I gave the undead a chance; if they just pulled once, they wouldn’t lose much. One chance, and they might get a ten-thousand-fold return. This is my goodwill to the undead."

"Is that so?" The Sin Dragon felt it wasn’t that simple.

"Did I force them to enter the lottery?" Lind countered.

"No."

"If they don’t pull, they won’t lose; if they do, they could gain immensely. I just spread the costs evenly. I’m considering the undead’s interests." Lind said sincerely.

"Greedy undead!" The Sin Dragon nodded.

Blame the undead’s greed, not Lind.

To put it in perspective, if the undead weren’t so greedy, aiming to profit greatly, they would choose prudence, and how would Lind make money from them?

If they didn’t pull, he couldn’t profit?

Lind had plenty of tricks to force them; he hadn’t deployed all his little schemes yet.

But in lottery pulls, it wasn’t about new tricks, it was about the allure of rewards, whether it could make the undead willing to bankrupt themselves.

"Select some for the prize pool and sell others in the shop." Lind had already figured out how to handle his resources.

Free resources, it’s a gain any way you look at it.

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