Chapter 45: Bloodline and Curse

The night was deep, and the air inside the temple felt thick and stagnant, carrying the damp stench of decayed wood and something older—something forgotten. Ah Rong's flashlight beam swept across the stone walls, revealing carvings of serpentine figures, their eyes hollowed out, their faces eerily devoid of life.

Lin Han clenched the rusted copper plate in his hand, his gaze fixed on the ominous inscription:

"The Gatekeeper is dead. The Serpent God shall return."

The words slithered into his mind like a whisper from the past, curling into his thoughts like an unseen coil around his throat.

"Walau eh... What the hell does that mean?" Ah Rong swallowed hard, his voice betraying his unease.

Noya stepped closer, her fingers tracing the edges of the plate. Her brows knitted together as if she were trying to unearth something from the depths of her memory. When she finally spoke, her voice was hushed, deliberate.

"I've heard this phrase before... from my grandfather."

Both Lin Han and Ah Rong turned to her, their expressions tense.

"He used to tell me stories when I was little. About an ancient Javanese royal bloodline that worshipped a serpent god. They believed that the god controlled both harvest and death. And to maintain their pact, every generation of the royal family had to offer their own blood as tribute."

Her voice wavered slightly at the end, as if saying the words aloud was enough to invoke the shadows of the past.

Ah Rong took a step back, waving his hand in disbelief. "Wait, wait—so you're telling me this isn't just some abandoned temple, but an actual place where blood sacrifices happened?"

Noya didn't answer immediately. Instead, she just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

The stench of overripe durian, thick and sour, mixed with the sharp scent of blood, rushed into their noses. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the temple spire, casting a ghostly glow over an elder's claw-like fingernails. In the distance, the sirens from Bangsar howled and faded, as if warning them too late.

A low hissing sound slithered through the temple corridors, sending a chill down Lin Han's spine. He turned toward the deepest part of the chamber, where a nearly eroded inscription was faintly visible on the wall.

Stepping forward, he wiped away the dust, allowing the flickering flashlight beam to reveal the words beneath.

"The bloodline of the royals cannot escape the curse."

Noya went completely still.

Her breath hitched, and her fingers unconsciously dug into her palm. Lin Han sensed her unease immediately. Without hesitation, he reached out, his fingers curling around her wrist.

"Sakit kah?" His voice was low, steady, but his eyes held concern.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, but there was no hiding the tremor in her hands.

Lin Han's mind raced. He remembered the fleeting glimpse of the Genting Corporation emblem on the robe of the mysterious figure they had encountered before. A massive corporate empire—how could it possibly be tied to an ancient curse? And if Noya's grandfather truly knew the truth, why had she never been told about her family's connection to this temple?

"…You're a descendant of the royal bloodline, aren't you?" Lin Han's voice was rough, edged with realization.

Noya didn't answer. But her silence was enough.

The air thickened.

Ah Rong's breathing grew heavy. He took a slow step backward, his face reflecting the slow horror sinking into his thoughts. "Then that means… this curse…"

"Yes." Noya's voice was barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, "If the curse is real… then I am the one keeping it alive."

The writhing shadows in the temple seemed to stir, responding to her words. Lin Han instinctively reached for his waist—only to realize he had lost his knife in their last fight. Ah Rong's fingers tightened around the flashlight, the beam shaking ever so slightly.

"Noya." Lin Han's voice was sharp, cutting through the suffocating silence. "If your bloodline is the key to this curse, then do you know how to end it?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, she lifted her arm and unbuttoned the cuff of her sleeve, revealing the inside of her wrist.

There, a faint mark twisted along her skin—a serpent-like symbol, identical to the carvings on the temple walls.

"The only way—" she said softly, her voice laced with finality, "is to give the Serpent God the offering it truly desires."

The room seemed to grow colder.

Lin Han's eyes narrowed. Ah Rong's face paled.

"…Wait," Ah Rong stammered, "you're not saying—"

Noya's gaze was steady. She turned to Lin Han, something unreadable in her eyes.

She knew she was about to make a decision from which there was no return.