Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

"Yeah," Xing Qingwu nodded, continued walking forward, and then secretly asked Kenneth through telepathy, "Did you find anything?"

"Well, the mystery here is very rich. Many things can be used as catalysts for spirits to descend." Kenneth nodded. "I guess someone is still maintaining this place, otherwise the spirituality wouldn't be so abundant."

The cave gradually widened to a vast expanse at its end. A massive stone platform stood in its center, seemingly an altar used by the ancient Incas for sacrifice. Scattered around the altar were broken pottery fragments, bronze vessels inscribed with ancient patterns, and several small stone statues depicting coiled serpents. Xing Qingqiu walked around the altar, crouched down, and carefully examined the patterns on these artifacts, trying to discern any valuable information.

"This seems to be a place dedicated to sacrifices." He said softly, holding an exquisitely carved stone statue in his hands and carefully observing the patterns on it.

Alejandro stood aside, calmly observing the two men's actions. Occasionally, he pointed to some symbols on the wall and explained in a low voice, "The Inca believed that 'Amaru' was not only a snake god, but also a mediator between the spiritual world and the mortal world. They believed that the snake god could connect the human world and the underworld. Therefore, in this special sacrificial occasion, the image of the snake has great significance."

"Are the sacrificial activities still going on here?" Kenneth looked around the stone tablet. "These symbols seem to be quite clear, as if someone repaired it not long ago."

"Indeed," Alejandro nodded slightly, "even now, a few descendants of the Incas still come here secretly to worship."

"The spirituality here is very strong," Kenneth said to Xing Qingjiu in telepathy, "but it's very different from the spirituality left on the corn kernels you brought back earlier. I don't think this place has anything to do with the Sun Festival."

"Maybe it's an isomer," Xing Qingyu thought for a moment and replied, "I'll mark it here first and look somewhere else first."

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I felt my stomach hurt more and more, but after checking, I found that there was nothing wrong. It turned out that the somatization was still chasing me.

This chapter is a transitional chapter, briefly introducing the surrounding background and Inca mythology. It should be noted that Inca mythology and the Aztec mythology to which the South American servants we encounter in FGO belong are two different systems. I will try to express the differences between Inca mythology, Aztec mythology and Mayan mythology in the following text.

The above is a new story for a new person. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 6: Symbiosis: . Spirituality Disappears with the Sunset

As evening fell, the mountain air grew increasingly crisp, with a biting chill. The setting sun slowly sank between the distant, overlapping peaks, its orange afterglow scattering across the valley, painting the rocks, grass, and tree shadows with a warm yet lonely glow. At the edge of the sky, a deep orange halo gradually merged into the inky blue of night, as if brewing a nighttime feast, heralding the end of the day.

The jeep churned along a bumpy mountain road. When its wheels ran over a rock, the entire vehicle jolted. Alejandro gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. With a flick of his wrist, he deftly avoided a deep pothole. The headlights cast long shadows across the road, their lights sometimes rising and falling as the road undulated, adding an air of mystery to the shadows ahead. The car was silent. Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth stared out the window. The dim mountains gradually blurred in the afterglow, revealing a sense of desolation and profound power.

"The next one is a place rarely visited by tourists," Alejandro whispered, breaking the silence inside the car. His gaze swept across the mountain road as darkness deepened, his voice calm but with a touch of solemnity. "There are still some Inti ruins there. The government originally planned to open it as a tourist attraction, but due to some circumstances, the villagers are not very welcoming to outsiders. Now, I'm afraid it's impossible to enter without a local guide."

"Is the xenophobia so strong?" Xing Qingfeng looked thoughtfully at Alejandro, then at Kenneth, exchanging a knowing glance. He pondered for a moment, frowned, and asked, "How much trouble will we get into if we go there?"

"It's not something that would really embarrass you, but they are certainly wary of strangers." Alejandro shook his head, a look of helplessness on his face. "Especially in recent years, more and more explorers and archaeologists have come here, trying to 'unearth' the so-called cultural value—"

"—But if you want to take a look, then take a look. If you want to explore the cultural value, then explore the cultural value. If everyone comes here just to take pictures like you do, then of course we welcome them," Alejandro explained with a sigh. "We hope you will promote the tourism value of this place. After all, who wouldn't like to make a little extra money?"

"But there are always people who come here and hammer on the statues. Some even claim that they are the property of all mankind and try to move away," Alejandro said. "For the villagers, those ruins are not for display. They are sacred places passed down from generation to generation. Opening them to outsiders in order to make more money is the biggest concession they can make. But after two years of opening, a small part of the ruins has been destroyed—"

"——So how can the villagers continue to be nice to outsiders?"

"I see..." Xing Qingwu nodded, and then suddenly asked, "Will there be any sacrificial activities here?"

"We have to wait until the next morning," Alejandro said after a moment of contemplation, his eyes steady, as if he was already familiar with the local customs. "The daily sacrificial activities will be carried out when the sun rises. We're going there now just to see if we can find a place to stay first. After all, if we go there tomorrow morning, we might be too late."

"So that's the setup." Xing Qingfeng nodded gently, gazing out the window into the distance. They had been traveling for hours on this desolate mountain road, far away from the bustling city of Cusco, deep into a remote area where even the sound of traffic had never disturbed them. "When will we arrive?"

"The village is just a few kilometers away."

The car continued its bumpy ride, the light occasionally glimpsing exposed rocks and scattered bushes until it entered a hidden valley. On the hillside ahead, a few simple adobe houses dotted the mountainside, the outline of a village gradually emerging in the twilight. Built into the mountainside, the roofs and walls looked mottled and old. Thin wisps of evening smoke rose, blending with the lingering sunset glow in the sky to create a faint twilight. A few rays of dim light filtered through the windows of the adobe houses, lonely and ancient, like the breath of the land, blending into the deep night.

The car finally entered a hidden valley. A few simple adobe houses dotted the hillside ahead, and the outline of a village gradually emerged. The village nestled against the mountainside. Evening smoke curled in the air, blending with the afterglow of the setting sun. A dim yellow light shone through some windows, appearing particularly lonely and ancient in the twilight.

"We're here." Alejandro slowed down, his gaze fixed on the village ahead. He pointed at the simple hamlet and whispered, "The entrance to the village is over there. This road only goes so far, so we'll have to walk from here."

Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth nodded and followed Alejandro out of the car. The valley air was slightly damp, mingling with the fragrance of earth and vegetation. They slightly adjusted their backpacks and followed Alejandro's lead toward the village. The winding path passed through several fields, the soil soft and moist. Occasionally, the soles of their shoes sank into the mud, making a soft crunching sound that contrasted with the tranquility of the valley.

The village gradually took shape. It resembled an ancient settlement, dotted with a few low mud and stone houses. Roofs covered with withered grass and rough wooden planks, their walls a gray-brown hue that blended seamlessly with the surrounding earth and rock, as if the houses were part of the mountains. From afar, the houses appeared indistinct in the twilight, as if they were deliberately fading from view, blending into the earth.

Several villagers stood by a nearby field ridge, gripping rough wooden staffs as they silently watched the approaching strangers. Clad in traditional robes and cloaks, the fabric faded from years of weathering. Even as they toiled in the fields, their postures exuded a silent and solemn air, at odds with the bustle of the outside world. As Xing Qingfeng and his companions approached, their gazes grew more focused, a touch of wariness and scrutiny. Their simple faces expressed neither surprise nor welcome, only an inexplicable indifference.

Alejandro walked in front, greeting the villagers in a soft voice, speaking a less familiar Quechua dialect. Xing Qingjiu caught a few words and vaguely understood his explanation of their purpose, mentioning that they were only here to pay their respects to the village's Inti altar and the sacrificial ceremony tomorrow morning, and that they meant no harm or offense.

An elderly villager standing in the fields nodded slightly, but he wasn't completely down on his guard. His face was lined with age, his skin a deep bronze from years of weathering. He was silent for a moment, then whispered in Spanish, "This isn't a place for tourists. Don't go near the temple alone."

Xing Qingjiu bowed slightly as a sign of respect, his eyes a polite yet sincere response. Alejandro patiently continued his conversation with the old man, explaining that they would not disturb the daily life of the village and simply wished to visit a sacred site. The old man was silent for a moment, a hint of doubt in his eyes, but he finally nodded slowly, accepting their brief visit with a hint of reluctance.

Led by Alejandro, Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth followed the older villagers, slowly walking along the winding dirt road toward the center of the village. Along the way, several older villagers gathered around them in silence, their expressions cautious, as if their every step was being watched by invisible eyes.

"I think it's pretty good now," Xing Qingfeng noticed Kenneth's discomfort and said to him through telepathy, "After encountering so many things, you're still a little cautious instead of telling us to get lost. I think it's pretty good."

"Hmm..." Kenneth twisted his neck uncomfortably, his eyes cautiously scanning his surroundings. "I understand, but in the past, looks like this usually came from magicians, and they'd usually take action next."

The two men kept a low profile, their pace slowing in unison as they followed Alejandro to a somewhat spacious open space. In the center stood a stone hearth, upon which stood several clay pots and a pile of hay, evidently used for fire sacrifices. A few rough wooden benches, bearing the marks of age, were scattered haphazardly around the clearing. From here, they could vaguely make out the outline of a temple not far away, standing at the edge of the village.

"Everyone here knows Inti. They never disturb the peace of the temple." The elderly villager standing beside them glanced at the temple in the distance, turned around, and whispered to Alejandro: "Remember, you can only watch from afar—"

“—You are not allowed to enter without the escort of villagers.”

Alejandro nodded and calmly gestured for Xing Qingqi and Kenneth to rest in the open space before heading towards the villagers. He spoke softly, patiently explaining their arrival and seeking permission for a subsequent visit.

Xing Qingfeng looked around, his gaze wandering across this unfamiliar landscape, taking in everything. This village seemed frozen in time. The uneven mud walls were etched with tiny grass stems, and the roofs were covered in a layer of withered grass, their mottled, dark color blending seamlessly with the ground, like an extension of the earth. Occasionally, wisps of smoke rose from the low rooftops, curling across the dim sky.

"Hey, don't say that," Xing Qingqiu suddenly raised his arms slightly, leaned towards Kenneth beside him, and whispered softly, "I can really feel some kind of magical reaction near the temple over there. It should be something spiritual."

"Ha, sometimes I wonder why you need any instruments for your research," Kenneth said, tugging at the corner of his mouth and sighing. "Your perception is already quite abnormal."

"I feel like I can sense it, but I can't quantify it." Xing Qingfeng just shook his head and responded nonchalantly, "It's like seeing a shadow, but I can't confirm the shape and size, so I can't estimate it. It's a waste of effort."

Not far away, Alejandro finished talking with the villagers and walked over to them. With a serious and cautious look on his face, he whispered to them, "The villagers have agreed to our visit, but we must rely on their guidance. We must refrain from taking photos or anything like that, so as not to offend the villagers. We'll proceed step by step and take our time."

"I understand," Xing Qingfeng nodded gently, tightening the backpack strap on his shoulder. He followed Alejandro, carefully skirting several rows of low houses and onto the dirt road leading to the temple. The path wound upward, and the grass and trees on both sides looked particularly wild because they had not been trimmed for many years.

They continued along the winding mountain path, their footsteps creating a faint rustling sound on the soft soil. Alejandro walked ahead, whispering to the village chief. Kenneth had unknowingly pulled out a pair of glasses-shaped magician's ceremonial garments from his pocket and placed them on his nose. He would occasionally glance up at the temple in the distance, sensing the spiritual energy surging around him as he walked. The leaves of the low trees lining the mountain path swayed gently, as if whispering in the wind, while the fading light of the setting sun stained the sky a rich orange-red.

As they approached the temple step by step, the sun in the sky slowly slid towards the horizon, the afterglow was gradually swallowed by the earth, and the colors around them changed from warm orange to deep blue, and the tranquility of the night gradually enveloped the sky and the earth.

When they finally stood in front of the temple, the last rays of sunlight quietly disappeared below the horizon. The surroundings instantly darkened, and only the faint night light made the outline of the temple even more profound. And at the moment when the sun set, Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth suddenly looked up at the temple at the same time -

——The spirituality disappeared.

"Do you feel it?" Xing Qingyu asked Kenneth through telepathy, "The fluctuations of magic power have subsided."

"That's not surprising," Kenneth said thoughtfully. "Inti is the sun god, so it's normal for symbols related to him to be affected when the sun sets. It's just..."

"It's just that the spirituality in the corn kernels I got from the Sun Festival doesn't change with the rising and setting of the sun," Xing Qingqi continued. "Is it because of the difference in the rituals? 児九冥?午?傘爸爸齐1san〖靈*梦」"

"Maybe. Anyway, we still have to go in and take a look."

The village chief approached the temple's wooden door with a measured step. His palm gently pushed against the rough panel, and the door creaked softly, a startling sound in the quiet night. He then bent down, took a small oil lamp from the doorway, and expertly lit the wick. A dim glow instantly surged. The light flickered slowly in the temple's narrow space, casting a shadow on the walls, outlining faded murals and carvings. Faintly, within those ancient lines, were the sun, the mountains, and the people's rituals.

Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth followed the village chief silently, looking up and carefully examining every corner of the temple. The temple's layout was simple, the walls slightly mottled, even the dirt peeking through the cracks. Atop the central altar sat a statue of the deity Inti. The deity wasn't tall, but its face was solemn, its hands slightly raised. As the oil lamp flickered, the deity's face was occasionally illuminated by a play of light and shadow, imbuing it with a sense of majesty.

Xing Qingjiu's gaze fell on the altar, where a dish of offerings lay: a handful of fine cornmeal quietly piled on the dish, and next to it were several neatly tied bundles of herbs, with a faint herbal fragrance. Perhaps because they were inside the temple, although the offerings seemed ordinary, he could vaguely sense that there was still a subtle spirituality in the offerings.

"It seems that the source of spirituality is not the statue," he whispered to Kenneth in telepathy, "but more like these sacrifices."

"But something seems amiss..." Kenneth frowned, his gaze still fixed on the statue. "Logically speaking, in a place like this, the statue should have more intense traces of the deity...but why can't I sense anything unusual on the statue at all?"

As they were talking in low voices, the village chief stopped before the altar. He paused for a moment, then casually picked up the plate containing the offerings from the altar. Then, picking up the oil lamp, he turned and left without looking back. Just as he was about to step out of the temple gate, he seemed to remember the three outsiders in the temple and turned back, urging them:

"Let's go after you've seen it. There's nothing particularly interesting here," he said in Spanish with a hint of impatience, glancing at them indifferently. "As for the murals and other things, we'll be able to see them more clearly tomorrow morning when the light is better. As for the statues, huh..."

"That statue isn't the real one." The village chief turned his head, his expression a bit mocking, but more of a cold indifference. "The original statue was stolen a long time ago. This is just a replacement we carved later."

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I'm a little tired, so I'll take a nap first, as I have to go to a night show later. In short, I'll explain some of the content in the next chapter, and then it's time to move on to the next section.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thanks to Qi Lingba (V) for his contribution to the D Flag Group!

Volume 7: Symbiotic Relationships: . Weber Dies on the Spot

The village chief carefully held the cornmeal and herbs he had retrieved from the temple in his hands and walked steadily back to the center of the village with Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth. The night was now deep, and the shadows of the surrounding mountains enveloped the village. The path twisted and turned, as if trodden day after day. The air was filled with the faint fragrance of plants, mixed with the early night humidity. In the hazy darkness, the moonlight was obscured by clouds, and the only light was the glow of the stove fire, the dancing flames illuminating the faces of the villagers.

A blazing fire burned in the hearth in the center of the clearing. Firewood had been shaved into thin strips and stacked in a tower, with a few dry palm leaves at the bottom. The flames licked the wood, creating a crisp crackling sound, and sparks flickered in the night sky, a quiet vitality. The villagers sat around the hearth in twos and threes, chatting quietly. Some chuckled, while others hummed a slow, ancient tune in Quechua. The firelight reflected on their cheeks, giving them a slight blush.

The village chief poured the corn flour from the temple into the pile of corn flour prepared by the stove. Several women approached silently holding clay pots. The water in the pots was shimmering with moonlight. They carefully poured the water into the pile of flour little by little. The powder mixed with water gradually formed a ball as the women rubbed it.

Meanwhile, several young men took bundles of herbs from the village chief. These herbs had been gathered by the villagers in the mountains. They placed them in a rough stone mortar and took turns slowly pounding them with a wooden pestle. The crushed herbs released a rich, herbal aroma that filled the air, a touch of spicy warmth. The pounded herbs were mixed into the cornmeal, and the young men's fingers were stained with the green of the herbs. They joked with each other, brushing off the powder and grass debris that stained their hands. The firelight reflected their smiles, completely belying the fatigue of the day's work. The kneaded dough was carefully shaped and placed. The women then placed it by the fire to roast briefly, allowing its aroma to slowly release and permeate the air, carrying the gentle scent of herbs and corn.

"Is this also part of the sacrifice?" Xing Qingqi tilted his head with a little curiosity and asked in a low voice to Alejandro who was standing beside him.

"It's not a sacrifice... um..." Alejandro glanced at the scene before him, chuckled and shook his head. "No, it's not accurate to say it's not a sacrifice," he said slowly. "But if you want to say it's a special sacrifice, the villagers are just preparing dinner."

Xing Qingwu was slightly stunned, then asked, "What do you mean?"

"Every household here offers a small dish of cornmeal at sunrise. This is a way of thanking Inti, symbolizing the abundance and brightness of life." He pointed to women nearby who were unpacking cornmeal and pondered for a moment before continuing, "They believe cornmeal carries the power of Inti and can protect their families."

"However, the village chief is an exception," Alejandro continued. "He doesn't make these offerings in his own home. Every sunrise, he brings bundles of herbs and cornmeal gathered by the villagers to the temple for a collective offering. He offers these foods to Inti as a token of gratitude on behalf of the entire village."

"Wait a minute," Kenneth suddenly asked, "I have a question. Is it because he is in charge of the sacrifice that he became the village chief, or is it because he is the village chief that he is responsible for going to the temple to perform the sacrifice?"

"Is there any difference?" Alejandro was stunned for a moment, not understanding what Kenneth meant by his question.

"Nothing," Kenneth shook his head. Alejandro's reaction showed that he didn't know the answer to this question either.

"Then I'll continue," Alejandro turned and pointed at the villagers. "When the sun is about to set, the village chief will go to the temple to retrieve the morning offerings. At that time, each family will also take out the corn flour offered in the morning, and everyone will pile this flour together. The villagers will knead the dough into flatbreads and mix it with the herbs they brought back—"

"—this is what they have for dinner every night."

"What do you think?" Xing Qingyu asked Kenneth in telepathy, his eyes moving away from the villagers busy by the stove.

"From an occult perspective, it can indeed be considered a ritual, but you've probably noticed that there's absolutely no magical fluctuation or spiritual gathering during this process," Kenneth responded, his tone thoughtful. "Strictly speaking, this is a folk custom interpreted by religion."

"How to say?"

"We can try to look at this ritual from the perspective of Inti belief," Kenneth continued in telepathy. "If the god Inti isn't the center of the faith, then this so-called 'ritual' might simply be a daily social gathering for the villagers. In winter, due to the climate, the villagers' labor slows down, and the frequency of socializing and gatherings increases. In this way, this activity of cooking and sharing food together might simply be a lifestyle originally formed to foster emotional connection among people."

"However," Kenneth paused slightly before continuing, "don't forget, the Sun Festival, a key festival in the Inti faith, is held annually on the winter solstice in June, coinciding with the villagers' current gathering time." He glanced at the villagers already gathered around the stove. "Since the timing of this traditional gathering coincided with the concept of the Sun Festival, it was imbued with symbolic significance within the Inti faith, gradually evolving into a ritual with religious overtones."

"So," Xing Qingfeng pondered, "you're saying that the original form of this Qunwu Yaoqiba}paleng;qiliuyi activity might be closer to a folk custom than a pure religious ritual?"

"You could say that. Generally speaking, if these gatherings were imbued with religious overtones, they were mostly given a later dimension. Therefore, the connection between traditional gatherings and Inti beliefs is naturally not as deep as that of spontaneous religious celebrations like the Sun Festival." Kenneth continued his analysis. "After the Age of Gods faded, the religious interpretations attached to these gatherings were naturally the first to dissipate, and they returned to their original form: folklore—"

"—So we didn't notice anything unusual, because it was just a daily routine for the local villagers," Kenneth said. "If a simple folk custom is to be transformed into a magical ritual, a magician needs to actively intervene."

"I thought you would look at this from a more magical perspective," Xing Qingfeng said after a moment of thought, "but it turns out to be the humanities and social sciences."

"Mysticism itself is a part of the research of humanities and social sciences," Kenneth said with a sigh. However, if he had wanted him to admit that mystical-related subjects were appendages of other secular subjects a few years ago, it would probably have been impossible.

The firelight danced, and the entire open space seemed warm and peaceful under the glow of the fire. As Xing Qingjiu and Kenneth chatted, the tortillas on the stone slab gradually cooked, emitting a faint burnt aroma that rose into the night sky and blended with the cool air of the distant mountains.

The women carefully peeled off the golden, crispy tortillas one by one and placed them on ceramic plates. The surface was slightly crispy, emitting a burnt aroma. The village chief took the freshly baked tortillas and handed them to the gathered villagers one by one. Each person who took the tortilla said a quiet thank you, tore off a small piece, and put it in their mouth, chewing slowly while continuing to chat with the person next to them.

After everyone had divided their food, the village chief suddenly turned, his gaze lingering on Xing Qingqi and Kenneth. His expression remained impassive, his expression unchanged. He slowly approached them, nodded slightly, and handed the tortilla to Xing Qingqi. Then, turning around, he took another and handed it to Kenneth. Xing Qingqi took the tortilla, feeling the warmth of its surface against his fingers.

"Thank you," Xing Qingqi replied in Spanish.

The village chief nodded slightly, saying nothing more, simply signaling them to wait a moment. Then, he took two bowls of steaming hot soup from the woman beside him. The broth was golden in color, with a few herbs floating on the surface and a hint of spiciness. The village chief handed the soup to them. Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth took the bowls, feeling the warmth of the soup, especially soothing in the night, and the warmth gradually spread to their palms.

Kenneth tore off a small piece of the tortilla and tried to put it in his mouth. The crispy texture of the tortilla crackled gently between his teeth, and the soft cornmeal inside mixed with a hint of smoky aroma, the flavor was very rich. He looked up at Xing Qing, the waiter next to him, and saw that he had already impatiently picked up the bowl, blew on the surface of the hot steam, and tilted his head back to taste the soup.

"Oh my god, it tastes like chicken soup," Xing Qingfeng took a sip and then drank the boiling hot broth in one gulp. "It's a little spicy and has a strong flavor."

"This soup is called 'Caldo de Gallina,' and it's made with chicken and herbs," Alejandro explained in a low voice. "Every household here makes it their own way, but most add aromatic herbs and chilies to dispel the cold and keep you warm."

After the food was all gone, the villagers dispersed in twos and threes. The fire gradually died down, leaving only faint embers flickering in the cold night. The air was filled with a faint herbal aroma, mixed with the dampness of the earth, making it seem unusually quiet. Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth had just put down their bowls and were gathering their belongings with Alejandro, preparing to rest in the open space, when they saw the village chief suddenly reappear at the dark intersection.

"Everyone," he walked over silently, "I have arranged a place for you to stay tonight."

The village chief pointed in the direction of the path and added calmly, "My son has already cleared the dam for you." He gave a few concise instructions and then, without pausing for long, glanced at a dim light at the end of the path before turning and leaving.

"If you plan to go to the temple tomorrow, it would be better to rest early." His voice drifted away in the night.

"That direction..." Alejandro looked toward the path. "It should be the guesthouses that were built when they were still open to tourists."

"I was prepared to sleep outdoors," Alejandro scratched his head. "It seems the villagers really like outsiders like you."

"I just hope that someone who stays in a high-end hotel every day won't despise the villagers' love for him," Xing Qingwu said jokingly with a hint of meaning.

"Huh?" Kenneth rolled his eyes, ignoring the two men and walking straight down the path the village chief pointed to. Most of the mud-brick houses on both sides of the dirt road were dark and asleep, with only one or two windows occasionally emitting a dim light.

Soon, a low, small house appeared ahead. Through the windows, a few rays of warm orange light shone onto the ground, enveloping the stone pavement in front of the house. Clearly, this was one of the few guest rooms in the village.

Kenneth immediately pushed open the wooden door, but before the two people behind him could catch up and walk into the house, he had already come out.

"I looked around, and it doesn't look like there's enough space for three people," Kenneth said, "so I'll just sleep in the car tonight."

The next morning, before the dawn's faint light had fully filled the sky, the village was already awakened by the cool morning breeze. As usual, the village chief rose at the first light of dawn, donned a thick woolen shawl, and after a quick wash, he retrieved the bundle of herbs and a handful of ground cornmeal that the villagers had gathered the previous night. He wrapped them in a cloth bag, held them reverently to his chest, and slowly walked toward the clearing where the sacrifice had been prepared.

When they arrived at the clearing, the morning light had just begun to shimmer over the treetops, casting a faint golden hue on the surroundings. However, compared to the usual silence, three figures had appeared in the clearing. They were Xing Qingfeng and the other two, who had been waiting for a while.

At this moment, the sunlight just filled the entire open space. The village chief stepped forward and whispered to the three of them, "Sunrise is the time of blessing from the god Inti. Follow me."

He turned and set foot on the path leading to the temple. The group walked along the winding dirt road toward the temple at the foot of the mountain. As they got closer, the outline of the building gradually became clearer, the rough stone bricks emitting a slightly bluish-gray hue in the morning light.

Arriving at the temple entrance, the village chief paused and carefully placed the cloth bag on the altar in front of the temple. He slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door, which creaked softly. He then entered the temple and paused before the central altar. He carefully placed the cornmeal and herbs he had brought on a plate and placed it on the altar. He then bowed respectfully to the statue of Inti and silently recited something in Quechua dialect that looked like a prayer.

"Alright," he said after a short prayer. He slowly stood up, his gaze lingering on the statue of Inti for a moment before turning to look at Xing Qingjiu and Kenneth. "That's the whole ritual process. Now that it's daylight, if you want to see the murals, feel free to do so."

Sunlight streamed in through the temple's narrow windows, casting a soft halo that made the murals on the walls appear particularly vivid. Xing Qingqiu and Kenneth exchanged a glance and walked toward the faded murals. Light slanted in through the narrow windows, illuminating the murals vaguely and giving the dull patterns a soft glow. Xing Qingqiu gazed intently at the paintings, which depicted scenes of ritual and daily life. He was about to pull out his camera, but something struck him, and he slipped it back into his messenger bag.

"If you want to take pictures, go ahead," the village chief's voice echoed in the temple, his slightly hoarse tone revealing a hint of indifference, "It's nothing."

Xing Qingqiu paused, nodded slightly, then pulled out his camera, slowly raised the lens, and aimed it at the mural before him. But just as Xing Qingqiu was concentrating on capturing as many of the murals and reliefs as possible, Kenneth's eyebrows suddenly raised, as if he had noticed something. His fingertips lifted slightly, and the magic circuit activated. Xing Qingqiu was keenly aware of the slight amount of magic energy emanating from Kenneth and turned his head to look over.