Warriors will die if they charge.

It is often said that in prolonged despair, people will reveal their true selves, which are suppressed deep within their hearts.

Marcus didn't quite understand this judgment before, but today he has truly experienced it firsthand.

The nearly extinguished sun, unchanged by the passage of time, hangs on the edge of the horizon, struggling to emit a urine-yellow halo.

The swamp was very deep, easily submerging the dwarf's head. Returning to the pool cave, they found no hidden escape route. Anything that touched the azure water dissolved into feather-like fluff, floating on the surface and slowly disappearing.

They were trapped on a deserted island no bigger than a basketball court, facing despair amidst the scorching heat.

Jenny was the first to give in.

She first stated that it was Marcus's stubbornness that led him to cross the bloodline. He should have stayed at the camp with that large sum of money, waited for the supply ship to dock next month, and returned to town to renovate his dilapidated yard. Instead, he insisted on clashing with the snake people and looking for some golden scales.

Now that's bad, everyone's going to die.

After expressing her anger, Jenny finally sat on the ground, hugged her knees, curled up in a ball, and cried silently.

As death drew near, Zhuo'er's feigned composure began to change. She dragged Marcus to the edge of the island and gazed at the man who had rescued her from Emma's lies.

"If I die, then I owe you nothing."

Marcus scratched his head and asked, "What if we're alive?"

Triss gave him a deep look, then silently retreated to the cave entrance, hiding in the shadows and gazing at the fading sun.

The dwarf's reaction was the calmest. He lay lazily on the dry gravel, squinting at the sun, and muttering names in an unintelligible dwarven language, seemingly eager to welcome the end of the world.

"What a pity, tough guy, your backpack was blown away by the storm, and you didn't even have a bottle of good wine with you, otherwise we could have had a good laugh before we died."

"Don't be too discouraged, Bardin. Maybe we can still get out of here. You know, I was the one who pulled you out of the swamp last time, and I'll do the same this time."

Bardin turned to the side, leaning against the slightly curved slope: "Don't tell me you're going to be like the stupid elves and pray to Emmaus, trading your soul for a chance to live. No, absolutely not."

Marcus walked to the edge of the island, facing the slowly setting sun that never disappeared; his tall figure cast an extremely long shadow in the sunlight.

"Grandma Keshachi once told the people of the town that if you get lost in the forest, find poison dart frogs, coca leaves, and ayahuasca, mix them together and eat them. If the Queen of the Water Ghosts doesn't want your life for now but wants to turn you into a water ghost son, you will be able to find your way out."

"This sounds more like some kind of strange witchcraft," Bardin asked curiously, watching his back that enveloped half the island.

"I've always been curious about the state of the residents of Linhe Town. Do you have any faith? Ancestors, gods, or the vaguely mentioned water ghost queen from the witch's mouth?"

Faith is like a sense of collective honor, Marcus thought to himself.

These were all invented by the noble grandfather to allow the army to fight for free; he did not believe in any known or unknown gods.

But if they can help with the current predicament, just as his "The Warrior's Handbook," though a collection of absurd stories, may have saved people from disaster several times, that would be enough.

Thinking about the essence of faith is the work of philosophers. If the Queen of the Water Ghosts is willing to help him just once, he will definitely go back and offer her two living goblins.

The believer in pragmatism turned his head, met Bardin's gaze, and smiled mysteriously:

"Who knows? Anyway, I believe in the Water Queen, and I've always been lucky. I win every bet... except when I play cards with Trish."

He walked over to Jenny, patted the little girl's shoulder, and gently comforted her:

"Jenny, believe me, we can survive. I remember you collected samples of poison dart frogs, coca leaves, and ayahuasca on the way. The sorcerer can't solve the problem at hand, maybe we should try the witch's way."

Jenny slowly lifted her head from her arms, her teary amber eyes fixed on the determined man before her. He was clearly only a few years older than her, yet his resolve was as solid as an insurmountable wall.

She thought of the angry words she had spoken in despair, wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, untied her small leather wallet filled with various plant samples, and said in a choked voice:

"I'm sorry, I was too impulsive just now. I've never encountered anything like this before, what doomsday, swamp, and a sun that will never set..."

Marcus gently stroked her soft, short hair: "I know, not everyone is as tough as Bardin and me. Sometimes letting out your temper makes you seem more adorable, haha."

Jenny carefully laid out the three ingredients—a brightly colored poison dart frog skin, fresh coca leaves, and a patchwork of green vine stems—in front of her, patiently explaining these "treasures" of the rainforest: (The three ingredients are arranged in a glass container.)

"I probably don't need to say much about poison dart frogs. These brightly colored little guys secrete venom from their skin that can cause muscle spasms, respiratory failure, and cardiac arrest. The venom from one frog can kill a griffin in a short time."

"Coca leaves are a potent stimulant with mild hallucinogenic effects, and have the mildest side effects of the three."

Speaking of ayahuasca, Jenny carefully pinched the green-spotted stem through the linen:

"Ayaya, it has severe hallucinogenic effects. Its potency is so strong that it can make people unable to distinguish between reality and hallucination. The Herbalists Guild has never found a suitable way to concoct and mitigate the effects of aya. It will immediately put the user into a dazed and absent state... and then completely go insane."

"Sounds good." Marcus shrugged and took the three ingredients.

"Wait." Triss emerged from the shadows of the cave, looking at the three poisons in Marcus's hand, and said softly:

"I owe you a favor, Marcus, I can do it for you..."

"Then I'll pay you back later."

Interrupting Zhuo'er's rambling, Marcus vigorously rubbed his palms together, kneading the poison dart frog skin, coca leaves, and vine branches into a ball.

As she ran up to him, he stuffed the dry voodoo potion into his mouth and swallowed it with a gulp.

Jenny stared in disbelief as the tough guy swallowed all the ingredients. She had originally thought that his witch's method involved taking a little bit of each ingredient.

But this... that's the skin of a whole poison dart frog and a branch of vine as long as an index finger!

Marcus took a bite, smacked his lips, and felt something stuck in his teeth. He looked at the stunned Jenny and said dismissively, "That's it..."

boom!

boom!

boom!

Three powerful wails caused his heart to freeze in shock, and his internal organs emitted a deafening roar.

Since acquiring theropod respiratory system, its ever-powerful lungs were breathing rapidly, its muscles twitched involuntarily, its head slumped, and it fell backward to the ground.

As the poison dart frog's venom gradually took effect, Marcus began to lose control of his body. Intense pain spread from his fingertips to his internal organs, and he nearly lost consciousness.

However, the coca leaves, which can refresh the mind, act as a stimulant for the central nervous system, forcibly opening up the nervous system that the venom is about to invade. People lose control of their bodies, but their minds are extremely excited, and they can clearly perceive every organ that is crying out in pain.

Damn it...

Marcus lay on his side, his body curled up in agony.

The eyes are the windows to the soul, but this window has been occupied by a milky white that symbolizes madness. I can't see anything clearly, and I feel like my whole body is being torn into countless different pieces of flesh by the pull of frog poison and coca leaves.

Bardin slapped his back hard, trying to induce vomiting physically. The tough guy's eyes almost rolled back to his forehead, and his body convulsed as if he were having an epileptic seizure.

Clumps of murky, bitter liquid poured from the tough guy's mouth. The raw materials for the voodoo potion, which he had theoretically just taken and should not be digestible, had not yet appeared.

Bardin could no longer suppress his murderous intent, clenching his fist and glaring at the flustered Jenny:

"Wizard, what exactly did you feed this tough guy?!"

Trish silently drew her scimitar and aimed it at Jenny's throat once more.