Warriors will die if they charge.

"Walk forward, walk forward... walk through a long corridor of sky beneath wings, where there are no people, no birds, no fish, no trees, only the calm sea..."

Marcus heard the voice in his mind, but it was not the lament of the Water Queen.

He's the guy who asked "Who are you?" after taking the voodoo potion.

The temple was divided into eight long corridors. Aside from the entrance to the due south, there were seven unknown forks in the road. He looked around but couldn't find the so-called Sky Corridor.

"What do you mean by 'no one, no birds, a corridor under wings'? I don't understand. And can you even get out of my head? I want to beat you up right now, talk to me! You son of a bitch."

"Are you the son of a water ghost or the father of a water ghost? Where is the water ghost queen? Why can't I hear her voice all of a sudden?"

Bardin was somewhat worried as he watched Marcus roar at the weathered rock wall alone in the empty courtyard. He rubbed his beard.

"Has the effects of the drug on the big guy not worn off yet? He used to never talk to thin air."

Jenny felt fear towards Marcus, who was roaring and howling incessantly. She hid in the shadows of Drow and whispered an explanation:

"If I'm not mistaken, he might be... in a psychic state similar to that of a barbarian shaman. The Normans of the North, and the savage orcs, their wizards take hallucinogenic potions at special times and use omens rising from the flames to guide the tribe's path of plunder. Perhaps the guiding potion that the witch of Linhe Town mentioned is essentially a kind of psychic magic potion."

Marcus couldn't hear what Jenny was muttering. He had just clearly seen a blurry figure sweep across the northwest corridor, but it suddenly disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Speak, you idiot! You have the guts to spout incomprehensible bullshit in my head, but not the guts to come out and touch me!"

The great salute in the tongue seemed to allow the voice of mortals to cross the boundary between spirit and flesh, allowing a blurry shadow to stand here.

As the curses grew increasingly offensive, Marcus felt the obsidian dagger in his left hand burning hot, and a sound sighed in the breeze, light, and dust.

The shadow that swept across from the northwest gradually became clearer, and a man wearing a giant python helmet floated out from the exposed rocks. Marcus immediately pointed his sword at the ghostly figure.

Upon closer inspection, he discovered it was a mummified corpse from a cave in a pool...

But why?

The man's spine was slightly bent forward, his body hunched over, making it difficult to see his face clearly. Only the turquoise eyes on the bronze python helmet glittered in the shadows.

He spread out his thin, tattooed hands, his voice carrying a strange, trilled tone: "Son of Citrali, I need you."

Marcus was certain he had never heard this language before, yet he could understand it.

"Citralli, who is she? And who are you? The frightening mummified corpse in the pool cave?"

"My name is Houqin, the attendant monk of the venerable god Kukulkan, and the spirit shaman of the tranquil pool. The person you see is the last remaining image of the attendant monk in the mortal world through the Temple of Light and Shadow."

Houqin tore open his black cotton robe, revealing a long, narrow, and hideous scar. Just as Marcus had guessed, his empty chest contained no heart.

The acolyte looked up at a ray of sunlight filtering through the vines into the empty courtyard, revealing a chin adorned with a black rectangular tattoo:

"The serpent of the swamp, which has smelled the sacred blood, is coveting the sleeping deity. You must cross the labyrinth of the smoke mirror and awaken the last vestige of the deity's will."

"Stop playing games, my friend. I hate being treated like an idiot. First, tell me who Citrali is and why I can hear your language while my guys can't."

"Citralli, in your language she is fearfully revered as the Queen of the Water Demons. Faith binds us together, Marcus Norfitz... Your revered Morning Star Goddess and the feathered serpent offered by your acolytes are both shadows of Navatl."

To be honest, Marcus didn't hear what Houqin was rambling about; he could only analyze it using the most direct logic.

The Water Queen is connected to this temple, and he truly reveres His Majesty who rules the rainforest, so much so that Houqin can use the Queen's connection with Navatl to manifest before him and speak incomprehensible gibberish.

But the acolyte did reveal one thing: the serpent people coveted Kukulkan's power, much like what he had seen on the path of the giant serpent, where a black leech clung to the feathered serpent's scales.

"So why don't you go and awaken the feathered serpent yourself, instead of letting an outsider do it?"

The acolyte's gaze shifted from the dome to the mortal realm: "The awakening of the gods requires blood... the blood of piety."

As the two continued their standoff, a cold and slippery sensation gradually seeped into the temple from the entrance to the due south. A thick layer of mortar was visibly devouring the green bricks left behind by time.

Zhuo'er's expression suddenly changed, and he grabbed Jenny's arm and threw her aside.

Bardin noticed it too. His relaxed expression, which had been just sighing, changed, and he drew his axe and shield, aiming them at the writhing gray stone slabs on the ground.

The stone slabs trembled under some force, loose clods of soil flew out, the hissing of snakes flicking their tongues filled the air, and a gloomy atmosphere seeped into the temple from the cracks in the earth.

"roar!"

The stone slab shattered, and a massive, dark gray serpent-man, as large as a carriage, burst from the ground. Its four scale-covered arms gripped a bone-like longsword, and upon seeing Marcus beneath the dome, its icy, beastly eyes instantly went berserk.

The monster lunged forward. Its body was completely different from the snake-men we had seen before. Only its upper body was humanoid, while its lower body was still buried in the ground. Its body slid out, bringing with it clumps of soft soil.

The basilisk's speed was unpredictable; it aimed at its target the instant it broke through the ground. The thirty-meter distance between the entrance and the courtyard was only a fleeting moment for a snake to pounce.

Marcus was caught off guard, and neither Bardin nor Trishes anticipated the basilisk's lightning-fast speed.

Only the acolyte Houqin produced a long-handled sword inlaid with many gorgeous feathers in his right hand when the basilisk appeared. Facing the basilisk's seemingly sky-covering blade, he leaped up and swooped down towards the temple intruder.

In terms of presence and physique, one was a thin, bony figure with a huge scar on his chest, while the other was a four-armed snake-man with a body as thick as a carriage. The air pressure when he swung his five-meter bone knife could be faintly heard as a resounding storm.

The acolyte pointed directly at the basilisk's head, leaped to the top of the arc, and the air around him suddenly twisted, and the moss, vines and lichens that covered the temple began to emit a green glow, as if they were resonating with him.

In that instant, his body seemed to transform into a giant green python, its fangs and jaws wide open, tearing at the snake monster's throat.

Whether the giant green python was an illusion or some kind of...mysterious technique, Marcus had no idea.

He saw a four-armed serpent monster far more terrifying than any enemy he had ever faced. The acolyte's blade bit off its neck, its head rolled off, and its stiff body lay paralyzed on the ground, its dark blood spraying like a fountain at his feet.

The temple grounds were still trembling, and the acolytes' strange fighting style surprised Marcus so much that he instinctively took a step back.

The other three, unable to look at the acolytes, were even more wary and fearful. What had happened? Why was the basilisk's head suddenly severed?

The acolyte twirled his bloodless longsword, turned his back to Marcus, and stared directly at the massive shadow cast by the temple entrance:

"The path to the due north sky, offer your blood to the Smoke Mirror... You must hurry, son of Citrali."

Marcus looked at the thick blood at his feet and the acolyte's decaying yet resolute back.

He suddenly stopped panicking.

Since the acolyte clearly wanted something from him, he didn't care about the snake-man, feathered serpent, or smoke-mirror. Since the system hadn't given him any task prompts, he had to take the initiative to ask for benefits; he couldn't work for nothing.

I don't know why all this happened, but I accept it, then bargain, and if the compensation isn't satisfactory, I say "no".

"What benefits do I get?"

The acolyte was clearly taken aback by Marcus's reaction. He turned his head, his reddish-brown eyes scanning the adventurer demanding payment, and shook his head with a sigh:

"Your faith is not devout enough, but my days are numbered. Once you have completed your mission, you will embark on the path of the serpent."

"You mean, teach me the combat technique you just used?" Marcus became interested, as he was worried about lacking offensive methods.

The acolyte gripped his long-handled knife tightly, like a giant python guarding its lair, fearlessly charging towards the shadows surging from the entrance.

The blade sliced ​​across the arm of a basilisk, its fangs piercing the heart beneath its scales. The giant green python burrowed into the endless swamp, single-handedly blocking the gazes that coveted the shadow of the past.

Houqin's lips did not open, but the hideous wound on his chest that cut him in two roared in the wind.

"Combat skills? No, this is the way of the warrior!"

"The way of the warrior, interesting..." Marcus nodded, then called to his companions who were still unaware of what was happening:

"Guys, we've got a big job! If we do a good job this time, we'll be rich! Haha."