Chapter 33: Victory

Liu Zhi had no time to look for where his longsword had fallen, nor could he spare a thought for the split in his palm from the blow. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he drew the dagger at his waist and lunged at the Jaguar Warrior. Unexpectedly, the Jaguar Warrior suddenly pounced forward, expertly seizing Liu Zhi’s position. With his left hand, he pinned Liu Zhi’s shoulder, while his right hand raised the macuahuitl, ready to strike down on Liu Zhi’s head.

Liu Zhi struggled, but the Jaguar Warrior held him fast—there was no hope of escape. In desperation, Liu Zhi twisted his arm and stabbed the dagger into the warrior’s left hand, a sharp flick of his wrist severing the tendons.

Yet this changed nothing; the macuahuitl was about to come crashing down on his head. In a moment of panic, Liu Zhi hunched down, turning his back to face the blow. On his back, he carried a rather sturdy pack, filled with documents and various tools.

As the macuahuitl smashed down, pain exploded across Liu Zhi’s back and blood spurted from his mouth. The Jaguar Warrior, realizing Liu Zhi wasn’t dead, casually hoisted him up, intending to strike again.

But in lifting him, the warrior exposed a flaw at his chest. Liu Zhi seized the chance, flipped his dagger, and plunged it toward the Jaguar Warrior’s chest.

The moment the blade pierced flesh, the Jaguar Warrior reacted, shaking his hand in an attempt to hurl Liu Zhi away. But he had forgotten—his tendons had just been cut. He only managed to throw Liu Zhi two or three meters.

Liu Zhi would not waste such an opportunity. Ignoring his injuries, he swung his backpack, hurling it at the Jaguar Warrior, and dashed in its wake.

The Jaguar Warrior, unable to see clearly, only heard the rush of wind approaching. He raised his macuahuitl and brought it down, splitting Liu Zhi’s backpack in two.

But in that instant, Liu Zhi slipped right in front of him, and with his short dagger, carved a “Z” in the air. The first stroke slashed across the Jaguar Warrior’s throat—a torrent of blood gushed forth.

Liu Zhi did not stop. The next two strokes landed on the Jaguar Warrior, and as he completed the “Z,” Liu Zhi felt a sudden urge to drive the blade into the second stroke. If not for the perilous situation, he might have yielded to that impulse.

But now was not the time. Suppressing the urge, Liu Zhi, having drawn three slashes across the Jaguar Warrior, quickly retreated. After four or five hurried steps, he reached a safe distance, took a deep breath, and surveyed the scene before him.

What he saw was the Jaguar Warrior kneeling on the ground. The warrior’s face was twisted in resentment and confusion, his skin rapidly turning black and festering as if struck by a lethal poison.

This puzzled Liu Zhi. He glanced at his dagger—there was nothing strange about it; he hadn’t coated it with poison.

Then his eyes fell on the remains of his backpack, split in two, its contents scattered on the ground. The truth dawned on him. Among the things he had picked up from Perkins, a few items had been placed at the top of his pack and had all been severed. The pure silver flask was cut in half, and from it seeped a black liquid.

Liu Zhi noticed the liquid mingling with the Jaguar Warrior’s blood, flooding into his body. The blackened, decaying skin was caused by this sinister fluid.

Awkwardly, Liu Zhi watched it all, uncertain what to make of the scene.

At that moment, the Jaguar Warrior rose to his feet. His eyes had turned completely black. Though he still held the macuahuitl, it hung awkwardly in his hand, more like a paddle than a weapon.

As he shambled toward Liu Zhi, the Feathered Serpent, which had watched the whole time, let out a roar. A foul, pungent breath swept toward the Jaguar Warrior. His skin seemed to be shredded by invisible blades; lumps of blackened flesh scattered from where he stood, covering half the platform atop the pyramid.

The Feathered Serpent then slithered forward, approaching the remains of the Jaguar Warrior’s skeleton. Fixing its gaze on the blackened flesh, it hissed a word.

For reasons unknown, Liu Zhi understood the meaning: “Heretic, demon.”

He involuntarily stepped back, afraid the Feathered Serpent would take him for an accomplice and strike him down as well.

Fortunately, the serpent did not regard him as an enemy. It lowered its head, its huge eyes boring into Liu Zhi for a long moment before hissing again.

Liu Zhi ducked away from the tongue flickering near his face, straining to listen to the serpent’s voice. The sound was hollow, as if echoing from the ends of the earth, yet utterly real.

“You have won. You are Kukulkan’s chosen champion. This city belongs to you now.”

Startled, Liu Zhi watched as the looming shadow before him faded. The Feathered Serpent returned to its coiled position.

Just then, three natives appeared before Liu Zhi—an elder and two youths, dressed exactly as they had before. Each carried an item.

The elder held a crystal skull, seemingly carved from a single flawless piece, but Liu Zhi had the unshakable sense it was a real skull.

The two young men behind him held a long staff and a golden pyramid statue. The staff was two meters long, polished smooth, with the natural color of the wood preserved. At its head was a feathered serpent of obsidian, its wings unfurled, with a notch on its back that seemed meant to hold a crystal.

The golden pyramid statue was pure gold, a perfect miniature of the one on which Liu Zhi now stood, down to its ornaments and proportions.

As the three approached, the Feathered Serpent’s voice sounded again.

“What is your name?”

“Liu… Xander, Xander Elance Id.”

“Very well. From this day forward, you are king of this city. I name you Id the First.”

With that, the three stepped forward, ready to present their gifts to Liu Zhi. As he reached out his hand, his vision blurred. Everything before him vanished like a bubble, dissolving into nothingness.