Chapter 58: Murals on the Second Floor

After stretching his body, Liu Zhi felt the limits of his strength and, gripping his longsword, continued downward. He was still capable of fighting; there was no need to retreat and rest, which would only give the enemies below an unnecessary chance to grow stronger.

He pushed open a stone door that previously wouldn’t budge, and moved toward the stairs leading down. On either side of the steps, he noticed stone oil lamps, though their oil had long since dried, and the wicks were decaying. Descending two more flights, Liu Zhi finally observed something different on the surrounding walls.

True to the style of this golden city, the walls here were a fusion of three imperial civilizations: the sun motifs of the Maya, murals from the Inca, and Aztec carvings, all faithfully recording certain events. Liu Zhi was already familiar with these depictions from his time in several living areas outside; a glance was enough for him to instinctively recognize the messages the murals intended to convey.

They seemed to tell the origin of the golden city. According to legend, the three great empires of the Americas shared a prophecy: at a certain point, a white demon would arrive, crossing the seas atop the white clouds. That day would mark the fall of their gods, and the beginning of their empires’ end.

So, when a pale-skinned demon finally appeared on these lands, the three empires joined hands to suppress it here. Liu Zhi had no words for such things. The murals were so ancient that he couldn’t discern the demon’s appearance, but one thing was clear: defeating the demon hadn’t taken much time. It was building the golden city, and sealing the demon below, that consumed the efforts of all three empires.

Most importantly, to protect the city, the empires devised all manner of defenses. The giant serpents outside were one such measure; to feed them, they had used magic to transform them into fruit-eaters, though their reasoning for this was unclear. In retrospect, it made sense: ordinary snakes could go days after eating a bird, but the giant guardians outside could only digest a human in a day. Surely they couldn’t guard the city hungry.

Liu Zhi scrutinized the murals as he descended, slowing his pace. Doubt crept into his heart: who would be his enemy this time, whose words were true, and who was the real demon?

After descending another ten meters or so, Liu Zhi’s eyes brightened. The stairs ended abruptly, opening onto a small hall. In its center stood a longsword, gleaming with golden light.

This sword was similar to those wielded atop the pyramid, clearly fashioned from honey and feathers, though its design was older, and its feathers thickly coated with gold powder, giving it a metallic sheen.

Two indigenous warriors stood on either side of the hall. Like those on the pyramid, they had donned their own weapons and armor. Liu Zhi noticed their foreheads were still smeared with fresh blood, evidently from those who had tumbled down from above.

Liu Zhi raised his sword and spoke gravely, “One for each of us.”

With that, he charged at the warrior to the left. Serpent Soul Naga said nothing—she could see these enemies were not particularly formidable, and Liu Zhi could handle them.

She sprang forward, her body launching like a slingshot toward the other enemy. Liu Zhi knew Serpent Soul Naga was far stronger than himself, so he focused all his attention on his own opponent.

The enemy before him appeared to be an ordinary hunter, clutching a bow. Liu Zhi wondered how one could use a bow in such a cramped space; his own skeletal archers were useless at close quarters.

As Liu Zhi struck, he saw his opponent pull the bowstring back—not to fire an arrow, but with a phantom motion. Instantly, Liu Zhi sensed danger; something seemed to shoot straight at his face.

He instinctively dodged, but a burning pain flared on his left cheek—a wound had opened there.

Alarmed, Liu Zhi crouched low, disregarding all else. His opponent, whether by supernatural power or something else, had unleashed an attack resembling a wind blade. This unsettled Liu Zhi. He could cast wind blades himself, invisible and colorless, impossible to see. He had no desire to be sliced in two by one.

He swung his sword downward, summoning a wind blade at its tip, and lunged forward. Yet his enemy moved as well—not standing passively like a stake, but accelerating, leaping up and running along the ceiling. In a flash, the warrior was behind Liu Zhi, unleashing another “arrow.”

Liu Zhi spun, releasing his own wind blade. The two blades collided midair, causing a violent gust.

Amid the storm, Liu Zhi noticed the ceiling bore its own patterns, depicting the measures taken by the three empires to prevent the demon’s awakening after its suppression. Besides the faith-powered suppression of the Feathered Serpent’s divinity, each empire had prepared treasures to counter the demon.

This chamber was dedicated to the Aztec Empire’s unique artifact—the Blood Sacrifice Sword. The sword in the center, though seemingly made of feathers, gathered the power of the Aztec’s three great legions, with effects tailored to restrain the demon.

Liu Zhi frowned, intent on examining further, but the indigenous warrior drew his bow with full force, heedless of anything else.

As the bow was drawn, countless wind blades shot toward Liu Zhi, while the warrior’s skin shriveled rapidly—a clear sign he was fighting with his very life.

Unable to counter such an assault, Liu Zhi mimicked what Serpent Soul Naga had done earlier, relying on instinct to block the wind blades.

But the blades came fast and furious; after a few blocks, Liu Zhi struggled to keep up. His sword, caught in the torrent, was sliced to fragments.