Chapter 27: Shadows in the Underground Shrine

Sweat trickled down Lin Han's forehead as his gaze locked onto the scene ahead. Deep within the Snake Temple of Penang, a weathered stone door stood slightly ajar, its opening a mere sliver of darkness—an abyss from which something unseen seemed to be watching them.

"Walau eh… this place really damn eerie lah," Noya muttered under her breath, fingers tightening around the Malay kris at her waist. Her old shoulder wound ached subtly, reacting to the dampness in the air.

The atmosphere carried an unsettling stillness. The moss-covered walls were lined with green serpents, their sinuous forms unmoving, as if waiting for an unseen command. Lin Han inhaled sharply—there it was, a faint but familiar scent. Beneath the musty odor of the ancient chamber, there lingered the unmistakable trace of sandalwood, mixed with something more ominous—like the remnants of an ancient offering.

Forcing himself to stay composed, Lin Han focused his sight. A warmth spread through his right eye, and suddenly, the karmic threads surrounding the temple entrance flickered to life. They weaved together in chaotic patterns, forming an intricate net that inexplicably bound him to whatever lay beyond the door.

"What do you see?" Noya's voice was low, taut with tension.

Blinking rapidly, Lin Han tried to make sense of the golden lines shifting before him. Then, for the briefest moment, a vision surfaced—an image of a figure clad in crimson robes, standing before the stone gate, gripping an ornate staff while chanting in a long-forgotten tongue. Behind him, an ancient parchment ignited in ghostly flames, its ashes dissolving into the air.

"A ritual… something ancient…" Lin Han murmured, his pulse quickening.

The ground felt damp beneath his feet. As he took another step forward, his sole met an unexpected slickness.

Blood.

A dark crimson trail seeped through the stone cracks, trickling down the worn steps leading to the underground chamber. The scent of iron mixed with the heavy air, and as if reacting to it, the snakes along the temple walls slowly lifted their heads, forked tongues flickering with heightened awareness.

"Lin Han, kita kena keluar sekarang! (We need to get out now!)" Noya's hushed tone was urgent, her gaze locked onto something in the shadows beyond the door.

Lin Han followed her line of sight—and his breath hitched.

A pale, elongated hand emerged from the darkness within the temple's inner sanctum. The fingers were unnaturally slender, the nails tinged with an eerie blue-black hue. This was no ordinary human hand.

A sudden, chilling wind surged outward from the doorway, sending shivers down Lin Han's spine. His right eye burned with an unsettling intensity, the karmic threads around him shuddering in silent warning.

"Shit…" Lin Han muttered, balling his fists as he braced himself.

Lin Han held his breath, staring at the hand slowly emerging from the darkness. It was not a human hand—its fingers were unnaturally long and thin, the skin so pale it was almost translucent, with faint blue veins pulsing beneath the surface. Even more disturbing, its nails glowed with an eerie black-blue light, resembling ghostly flames flickering in the night.

Noya's breathing turned rapid as her hand instinctively moved toward the Malay kris at her waist. She had been a police officer for years, but nothing had prepared her for this. Worse still, the owner of the hand had yet to reveal itself—just the presence of this limb alone made the air feel heavy, suffocating.

"Lin Han, kita kena pergi sekarang! (We need to leave now!)" she whispered sharply, her eyes never leaving the door.

But Lin Han didn't move.

The karmic threads in his right eye were trembling violently, as if something beyond his control was pulling at them. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he was standing at a crossroads of fate. One wrong step, and he might never return.

Yet his feet wouldn't budge. Some unseen force rooted him to the spot.

 From the depths beyond the door, a low murmur echoed through the air. The voice was not in Sanskrit, nor Arabic, nor any human language—it carried an ancient resonance, like the whispers of the dead from a thousand years ago.

"Dia sudah sampai... (He has arrived…)"

Noya sucked in a sharp breath. She understood Malay, and that phrase sent a chill down her spine. Something had been waiting here for Lin Han.

Then, suddenly, images flooded Lin Han's mind.

—The Bronze Serpent.

In the dim glow of ritual fires, a bronze serpent statue covered in intricate inscriptions coiled around an altar. Blood dripped from the hands of the worshippers, each drop absorbed instantly into the metal. The serpent's eyes gleamed with an eerie light.

A man in a red ceremonial robe knelt before the statue, his wrists bound, an unfamiliar sigil carved into his forehead. The moment his blood touched the altar, the serpent's eyes burned with a ghostly glow.

The shadows twisted.

The man's form stretched unnaturally before vanishing into darkness.

Then, the vision ended.

Lin Han gasped, his forehead drenched in sweat. He looked down. Beneath his feet, faint outlines of the same bronze serpent markings had begun to appear, as though the unseen force was claiming him.

From behind the door, the monstrous hand withdrew. In its place, a pair of glowing green eyes slowly opened.

A serpent's gaze.

Noya sensed the shift instantly. She reached for Lin Han's wrist, trying to pull him away—but he wouldn't move.

"Choose."

The voice no longer echoed in the air—it resonated directly in Lin Han's mind.

He understood now. This was no ordinary supernatural encounter. This was a ritual. A contract. A moment that would decide his fate.

To enter? Or to flee?

But his body was no longer his own.

One step.

Two steps.

He walked toward the stone door.

And behind it, the serpent's eyes watched, waiting.