"Lord, they have been cursed by the Ancestral Spirit." After examining everyone, the Shaman gave a response that went beyond Perfikot's expectations.
"A curse? And an Ancestral Spirit's curse?" Perfikot showed an expression of surprise and confusion, but soon displayed a terrible anger: "Which tribe? Is there a way to lift their curse?"
She was so furious that her clenched fingers directly crushed the teacup in her hand, spilling tea all over the ground.
Sensing the anger in Perfikot's words, the Shaman hurried to explain to her: "It's not any tribe. This should be the Ancestral Spirit left behind by a tribe that has already perished. As for the curse they are under, I can lift it, but the damage they've sustained cannot be reversed.
This is the terrifying aspect of such a curse. Even the strongest warrior has no way to resist such a vicious curse. Their souls have already been burned by the Curse Fire. Even if the curse is lifted, it is hard to heal their wounds.
