Cornelius opened his mouth with seriousness, his gaze fixed on Milton Cheney.
Milton Cheney felt somewhat helpless.
I told you not to come, but you insisted on coming, and now you blame me for your inability.
"Do you know what I just took out was someth..."
"Stop, I don't know, and I don't want to know."
"No, I must let you know, it was the Artifact of Myriad Thoughts and Wills, a Heavenly Path Treasure, countless..."
Cornelius spoke in intervals, while Milton Cheney had already closed his eyes to rest.
"You don't care? You don't want to kill for treasure?"
"Such a treasure, don't you wish to claim it for yourself?"
Seeing Milton Cheney's completely indifferent demeanor, Cornelius was dumbfounded.
He suddenly felt like he was punching cotton.
Because he could sense that Milton Cheney truly didn't care, not a trace of greed had arisen.
