An Old Farmer
As soon as Nesrin heard those two words, she turned around to leave.
She had quickly receded her mana and ceased all of her connection with those crimson threads and the cursed men.
Her breaths turned rigged, and her heartbeats started to race among themselves.
There was a hiss of violet smoke as the captive gasped and panted, all of sudden he lost his energy to fight and the dim violet glow embraced him into death.
It happened in mere seconds, the man that once thrashed violently was no more.
All other cursed men were killed in a similar way. There was not a single gasp or scream, they died a silent death with agony that burned through every inch of their skin and every thread of their soul.
Nesrin was about to leave the hall when she glanced back one last time.
Everyone present, whether they were old or injured, they all quickly knelt and lowered their head. A shadow could be seen approaching the steps of the mansion.