Chapter 29: The Golden Serpent’s Eye

The air was thick with the stench of blood, a scent so ancient it seemed to have seeped into the very walls. The stone gate groaned as it slowly split apart, revealing a sliver of deep crimson light—pulsing, as if something alive was breathing within.

Lin Han's heart clenched. His right eye was instantly engulfed by a blinding golden radiance.

"Step back!" Noya whispered sharply, her hand tightening around the grip of her gun.

But Lin Han's body refused to listen. Instead, he took a step forward, drawn by an unseen force. The golden serpent pattern on his forearm slithered beneath his skin, moving as if it had a will of its own. His blood was boiling—something ancient, something powerful was awakening inside him, urging him toward the darkness beyond the gate.

—Hiss—

A low, guttural hiss emanated from beyond the gate. It was not the wind, nor was it a sound any human could produce. It was something… far older. Something that sent a chill crawling down the spine.

The moment the gate fully opened, the ground trembled violently. A forceful suction erupted from the chamber beyond, pulling everything toward the abyss.

"Lin Han, hold on!" Noya reached for him, but before she could grasp his arm, the invisible force had already dragged him through the gate. His figure was swallowed by the shadows.

Sound stretched and distorted in his ears as space collapsed inward. The world around him fragmented into jagged, shifting shards.

In the next instant, he fell.

But he did not hit solid ground.

Instead, he plunged into an endless black lake, its waters colder than death itself. Yet the most terrifying thing was not the icy abyss surrounding him—

It was the reflection staring back at him from the lake's surface.

No… that was not his reflection.

It was another pair of eyes—gazing at him from beneath the water.

—Boom!—

A golden explosion detonated in his mind, and pain lanced through his forehead. It was as if something had been forcibly embedded into his consciousness.

Images flashed before his eyes. He saw an ancient version of the Malay Archipelago, where a colossal golden serpent coiled around a mountain range, worshiped by countless devotees.

Then came the whispers, voices so old they seemed to echo from another era:

—"The Golden Serpent's Eye sees beyond life and death."

—"A blood pact has been sealed. Fate cannot be undone..."

And then, a figure emerged from the vision.

—Himself.

But it wasn't him.

The man wore robes from a long-forgotten era, the golden serpent insignia burned onto his forehead. His gaze was devoid of warmth—cold, as if it had witnessed centuries pass.

Lin Han's consciousness felt like it was being stripped away, swallowed by an endless abyss. Time itself dissolved into nothingness, and he could no longer tell how long he had been drifting.

Then, a murmur reached his ears—both familiar and alien at the same time. It carried the resonance of an ancient chant, yet slithered into his soul like a whispered curse.

——"Return... Blood of mine..."

His eyes snapped open.

He was floating atop a vast, still body of water, a liquid mirror stretching into infinity.

And at its farthest edge stood a shadow—a figure he recognized instantly.

Himself.

But the eyes staring back at him were not his own.

They gleamed with a faint golden light, the pupils slit like those of a serpent, exuding an otherworldly indifference.

"Who are you?" Lin Han's voice came out quieter than he intended, laced with a tremor he couldn't suppress.

The reflection smiled—a knowing, unsettling smile.

"You shouldn't ask who I am," it murmured. "You should be asking—who are you?"

A cold weight settled in Lin Han's stomach.

The mirror image lifted its right hand, revealing a golden serpent mark glowing faintly in its palm, pulsing like a living entity.

"This mark... does not belong to you," the reflection continued. "It has chosen you."

A foreboding chill crept up Lin Han's spine.

Before he could respond, the world around him shattered.

An invisible force yanked him into another realm.

The air smelled of burning incense and something metallic. Before him stood an altar wreathed in blue fire, surrounded by figures in dark robes. Their low, rhythmic chants pulsed through the air, vibrating with an unsettling energy.

At the heart of the altar, a colossal golden serpent's eye slowly blinked open, locking its gaze onto Lin Han.

This isn't a hallucination.

Realization struck him like ice-cold water.

Then, suddenly, something inside him shifted.

A scorching heat spread from his spine to his limbs. His blood felt like molten fire, burning through his veins. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and as he stared down, he saw them—the same golden serpent markings that had appeared in the mirror.

"The curse of the bloodline has begun..."

The voice of his reflection echoed through the void.

"From this moment on, you are no longer just yourself."

Lin Han's breath hitched.

He didn't dare to imagine what that truly meant.

Lin Han's consciousness churned violently. His blood felt as if it had transformed into a golden serpent, coiling and writhing inside him, searching for an escape through his skin. He collapsed to his knees, his fingertips digging into the rough stone floor, desperately trying to suppress the foreign force creeping through his veins.

—"Accept it."

A voice slithered into his mind, entwined with the pulse of his own blood.

Lin Han lifted his head. The altar before him still burned with eerie blue flames, while the robed figures surrounding it continued their low, hypnotic chanting.

At the center of the altar, the massive golden serpent eye slowly constricted, as if studying him, evaluating, waiting.

"Who are you?" Lin Han's voice was hoarse, his breath uneven.

From the shadows, his own reflection emerged—an identical figure, yet subtly different. The mirrored self bore elongated pupils, their golden glow flickering with an enigmatic intensity. A slight, knowing smile curled at his lips.

"You're asking the wrong question."

"You should be asking—what are we?"

Lin Han's mind was torn open, revealing fragmented visions—

—An ancient throne, gilded with gold, entwined with serpent engravings, stained with darkened blood.

—A face eerily similar to his own, yet paler, more distant, gazing coldly down at kneeling figures.

—A forgotten tongue, whispered in ritual: "Blood cannot be denied. Legacy cannot be defied."

Lin Han gasped, his fingers tightening into fists, nails digging into his palms.

"No… This isn't real… I've never—"

The reflection chuckled softly, raising a hand. A golden serpent pattern gleamed in his palm, its light surging outward in a hypnotic pulse.

"Memory does not deceive you. Blood does not lie."

A cold sweat broke across Lin Han's forehead.

"So, you have two choices—accept it, or be devoured by it." The reflection's voice was almost a whisper.

The chanting around him grew louder, the serpent's gaze burned brighter, consuming everything in its wake. Lin Han's thoughts blurred, as if he were being pulled toward something beyond his control. He could feel it—

To embrace the bloodline, to wield the unknown power?

Or to reject it, and become nothing more than a discarded pawn in this grand design?

A chill ran down his spine. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs.

He knew he had no choice but to decide.