Leafy vines cling to the rocks with winding trees, and dense vegetation almost completely obscures the paths.

The three men are sweating profusely, but the unknown treasure has been stirring the greed in their hearts. For the past six days, the jungle has been guarding its secrets.

But now, they had seen the temple looming behind the bushes. The façade of the temple is embedded in a boulder jutting out of the ground, and the pedestal is surrounded by blooming red and blue flowers. In the gold niche sits a statue of dignity and a golden orchid wrapped around the eaves.

"See, Horta," said Uren, "didn't we tell you that the temple is real." ”

"As long as the treasure inside is real." Horta threw down his heavy hatchet and drew his freshly polished longsword. "You two are gambling with your lives, remember?"

"Don't worry, Horta." Morta's cough was like a file: "This trip is done, you can buy the palace if you want." ”

"The best. Hold your sword steady, and whoever stands in your way will be killed. Horta said.

The three bandits approached the temple, their weapons reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun. Horta found that there were no protruding horns throughout the temple, and that each edge was not diagonally connected, but rather flowed together.

When the group entered the temple, they were greeted by two magnificent Ionian whip willows. The sinuous trunks of the trees form an arch, and the snow-white bark of the trees seems to be painted.

"Why aren't there any guards?" he asked, as he walked inside.

At this point, his eyes were attracted to something, and the question was thrown aside. An inner chamber was carved out of the stone wall, dark and gloomy, like a tomb.

The dome is carved in bas-relief, and each wall is covered with colored broken glass, depicting life and light that ripples like ripples.

The ivory plate is engraved with an ancient fable of Shuoji, which rests on a carved bronze pillar. In the niche sunk into the wall stood a statue of a god made of black jade, covered in gems.

On the pedestal made of porphyry and jadeite, there are statues of the martial emperors with gold edges, looking at the visitors condescendingly.

Horta sneered, "Take it, take it all." ”

Uren and Morta quickly put away their swords and excitedly opened their knapsacks. Sculptures, idols, gems, whatever they touched, they all rushed into it.

The two of them ran around, dragging the treasure and shouting excitedly. Horta paced around the room, planning to do it both of them as soon as she got back to the city. Suddenly, he noticed that a statue had moved.

At first glance, Horta thought it was a clay statue of a warrior monk sitting cross-legged with his back to Horta, his hands resting on his knees.

But he stood up and turned around. The gentle and smooth movements are as if a coiled snake spreads out. He was lean, muscular, with a pair of baggy old trousers underneath and a red silk handkerchief around his eyes.

"There's still someone." Horta stretched out his fingers, rubbing the wrap on the hilt of his sword. "Okay, I'm trying to cut someone."

The warrior monk's head tilted to the side, as if listening to something. "Three. One has a sick lung, the other has a bad heart, and he won't live this year. ”

The invisible warrior monk turned his head. Even though the thick cloth was impossible to see, he stared straight at Horta.

"You have a spinal injury that will attack in the winter, and it will make your body involuntarily lean to the left."

"What are you, prophet?" asked Horta, licking her lips nervously.

The warrior monk ignored his question and said, "I'm Li Qing. ”

"So what does that mean?" asked Horta.

"I'll give you a chance to put everything back. Then get out of here and never come back. Li Qing said.

"It's not your turn to call the shots, blind friend." Horta scraped the tip of his sword against the rocky ground. "There are three of us, and you don't even have a weapon."

Uren and Morta burst out laughing nervously. Although they were superior in numbers, they were still somewhat touched by the momentum of the warrior monks. Horta's other hand gestured, and the other two immediately dispersed, drew their scimitars, and surrounded the warrior monk.

"It's a holy place. Unsullied. Li Qing sighed sadly.

Horta nodded at his accomplice. "Spend this blind man on the sidelines."

Wuren took a step forward, and before he could settle down, Li Qing moved. It's like a dead clay sculpture, and in an instant it becomes a vague afterimage.

His arms pulled out like whips, and the hard edge of his palm slashed at Uren's neck. With a crunch of bones, Uren fell to the ground, his head twisted into an extremely unnatural angle.

Immediately after, Morta slashed with his sword, and Li Qing saw the opportunity to swing aside. Morta had a lot of strength, and his backhand was another sword, which grazed over Li Qing's head.

Li Qing lay flat on the ground, rolled his body, parted his legs, and swept Morta's legs like a sickle. Morta fell to the ground, and the weapon flew far away on the stone floor. Li Qing rolled over and stood up, raised his foot and smashed Morta's sternum.

Fragments of ribs pierced into his fragile heart, and Morta let out a suffocating cry of pain. His rucksack fell to the ground, and the gems rolled around. His eyes bulged out in excruciating pain, like a stranded fish struggling to exhale its last breath.

"You're kind of fast in the monks." Horta flicked a burst of sword swords in the air. "But I'm not an idiot with a sword."

"Do you think you're fast," Li Qing asked.

"I'm the best trained, not like those two idiots." Horta nodded at the corpse on the ground.

Li Qing didn't speak, and the two began to circle around. Horta observes the warrior monk, who is also tracking Horta's movements. The warrior monk's steps were light and accurate, but Horta felt more and more uncomfortable, and it seemed that with each passing second, his weakness would be exposed to the other party.

Finally, with a loud roar, he pounced on the warrior monk and unleashed a series of slashing stabs. Li Qing slid to the side and dodged lightly, as if it were a young leaf in the wind, avoiding Horta's unreserved attack.

He kept swinging his sword, forcing Li Qing to retreat a little with each blow. But the warrior monk didn't even sweat a drop. His unmoved expression, his cloth-covered eyes, and his careless contempt deeply irritated Horta.

He adjusted himself. The bits and pieces of memories from the training, the anger in his chest at this moment, and every bit of power that can be evoked, all gathered together and slashed with a sword. The blade sliced through the air around the warrior monk, not hitting once.

Li Qing turned around and dodged, bent down his knees, and tensed his body.

"You're fast, and you're not bad at skill." The muscles of his whole body were throbbing. "But anger has clouded your reason, and it has consumed you and dragged you to death."

A trickle of energy began to gather around Li Qing, and Horta felt that the stone chamber was getting hotter and hotter. A swirling vortex enveloped the warrior monk, and Horta retreated in fear, her sword slipping from her hand.

Li Qing's whole body trembled, as if he was struggling to control some kind of power that he couldn't contain. The sound of the wind in the stone chamber gradually turned into a roar.

"I'm sorry. I'll put it back. I'll put them all back," Horta said.

Li Qing strode forward, and the storm of energy thrust him forward. He kicked Jota in the chest, knocking him out of the way and throwing him into the wall, smashing the rift. Horta fell limply to the ground, every bone joint in his spine shattered like porcelain.

"You had the opportunity not to suffer, but you didn't cherish it. Now you're going to pay the price. Li Qing said.

As death approached, the scene in front of Horta's eyes began to turn gray, but he still saw Li Qing return to his position and sit down. He turned his back to Horta, his posture relaxed, and the deadly vortex of energy gradually subsided.

Li Qing lowered his head and re-entered meditation.