Chapter 271

Marcus hadn't read many books, and he had spent most of his life struggling in various dangerous places full of magic beasts, so naturally, he couldn't have any aesthetic appreciation ability.

He just instinctively felt that the magnificent church before him gave him an indescribable, unique sense of beauty.

Different from all the churches he had seen before, the heaviness and decay that shouldn't have appeared in such a place of worship now filled every corner of his sight.

The thick fog remained; the towering spire, which once symbolized holiness and served as a bridge to communicate with the God Kingdom, had already snapped, with only jagged broken edges pointing abruptly toward the sky, without the slightest sense of redemption.

The surface of the thick, grey-black stone walls was covered in cracks, and withered, twisted black vines climbed the walls like snakes, probing deep into those crevices along the texture, just like tentacles reaching out from below, intending to drag this church into the abyss beneath the earth.

The few surviving stained glass windows were now nothing but dim fragments whimpering in the wind, looking like the eye sockets of a skeleton.

The moment he walked closer and saw the church clearly under the shroud of mist, for some reason, Marcus shivered.

"Captain, we..."

Beside his ear came the tentative inquiry from the dwarf "Shifu".

What he was tentatively asking about wasn't whether to retreat, of course, but whether they should enter this church.

The dwarf, who was always greedy and valued money above his own life, had already given up searching the many buildings along the road earlier, forced by the squad's requirements.

If this magnificent building at the end of the road didn't satisfy the greed in his heart, he was afraid he would harbor ulterior motives on the spot.

Marcus naturally wouldn't turn a blind eye.

The reason they had ventured so deep into the Gray Valley was precisely to seize more benefits.

Now, there were no other buildings behind the church, only bare rock walls; without a doubt, the three of them had reached the deepest part of the valley.

If there really were any treasures, this would be the place.

He suddenly took a deep breath, letting the coldness in the air pour into his abdomen.

Staring at the dilapidated, half-open church gate not far ahead, he beckoned to his teammates beside him:

"Slowly, we're going in."

"Creak."

Accompanied by the rustling of stone powder and dust, the sluggish sound of the wooden door being pushed open echoed eerily through the dead, empty hall.

Crossing the broken threshold, the first thing that caught his eye was not some awe-inspiring, magnificent architecture, but the fine dust floating and drifting in the air mixed with mist, and that heavy, tangible sense of indescribable decay that even someone with the poorest perception could feel.

The pews were rotten, leaving only grey-black wooden blocks that were unrecognizable, the floor was covered with a thick layer of dust, and gravel and unknown bone fragments were scattered everywhere.

The towering dome, set against the cracks and the sound of the wind, seemed as if it could collapse at any moment, completely devoid of the sense of security it once provided.

The thick stone pillars supporting the entire church might still be struggling to maintain their function, but the holy patterns and reliefs carved on their surfaces had already been rendered unrecognizable by the erosion of the river of time, leaving only twisted, hideous outlines.

If it were a visitor with relevant knowledge and keen observation skills, they might be able to infer what had happened here through the details throughout the church.

But right now, what Marcus and the others were focused on was the massive, holy figure located toward the back of the center of the hall.

Having encountered the broken statue, which only had its lower half left, once near the entrance of the valley, it had finally revealed its complete posture.

One hand was raised, the arc between the upper and lower arm was subtle, and the fingers were naturally spread, as if holding something up, or perhaps begging for mercy from some higher-level existence.

With the arm pointing downward, even though time had left fine cracks and mottled marks on the surface of its body, one could still capture the unique beauty of this statue through those exquisite yet blurred robe patterns and body structure.

It was just a pity that the features on its face had been completely smoothed out by the stone powder in the mist, making it impossible to see the true appearance of this deity.

And right below this statue, the only living creature in the entire church besides Marcus and his group was kneeling.

"Hhh..."

It was the dry, hoarse throat sound squeezed from deep within the throat that they had heard countless times on the way here.

The shriveled, thin figure knelt quietly on the ground, hands clasped in front of its chest, head bowed as if praying devoutly.

With its back to everyone, its specific appearance couldn't be seen clearly.

But compared to the first corpse, the only difference seemed to be in its attire—no longer the coarse cloth common among civilians, but replaced by a tattered priest's robe.

At the church gate, the three members of the Blood Blade Squad maintained unprecedented vigilance, guarding against possible dangers around them.

Suddenly, he felt his clothes being tugged.

Marcus frowned and turned his head slightly.

He discovered that Shifu was widening his round eyes, staring straight ahead, his mouth subconsciously opening, in a trembling tone that couldn't hide his excitement:

"Bo... Boss, look..."

His gaze followed the direction the other was pointing.

A touch of orange-red, crystalline flame light was reflected in his pupils.

Beneath the toes of the statue, before the prayer of the corpse, hidden by the grey mist and dust—

A staff with an orange-red gemstone embedded at the top and a dark grey shaft was lying quietly on the altar.

His pupils constricted!

Visible greed and desire welled up from Marcus's eyes, which were crossed by scars.

His identification ability was average, and his limited experience was only aimed at those common melee weapons.

Regarding enchanted equipment or weapons related to spellcasters, he could be said to be completely ignorant.

But honestly, given the scene right now:

An ancient ruin located in a remote valley, a magnificent church filled with mysterious atmosphere everywhere, a dilapidated towering statue, and a fanatical believer praying devoutly.

With this exaggerated sense of atmosphere, even if what was placed on the altar was just a piece of gravel found anywhere, he would have to suspect whether it was some holy stone stained with the blood of a god.

Not to mention that what was before his eyes right now was not a common object, but a staff with a classic structure, whose function could be identified at a glance by its shape—a proper staff!

"We're really going to get rich this time!"

Even with Marcus's steady mind, honed by years of adventuring, he couldn't help but cheer in his heart at this moment.

On the Aifala Continent, for ordinary civilians, if it was said that anything related to adventurers would have its price multiplied several times.

Then for adventurers, anything related to "spellcasters" was more like a different currency system, often adding several zeros to the end of the price.

Gold coins were just gold coins; those "Mage Lords" who were generous and could buy an entire street in a remote city with a single piece of equipment wouldn't play games with you.

Subconsciously taking a step back to distance himself from his two teammates, his scimitar flashed with a cold light under the dim light.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, his reason returned to the high ground in his brain.

Marcus coughed intentionally and ordered the Ranger Xili beside him:

"Deal with the corpse in front of the statue, don't hold back."

A flash of hesitation crossed Xili's face; her left hand, which had already quietly reached toward the dagger at her waist the moment she saw the staff, was pulled back without a sound.

She nodded slightly, uncharacteristically putting away her sharp tongue.

At the same time, she very naturally took several big steps back, retreating to a position further behind Marcus where she could clearly see the two so-called "teammates" in front.

Nocking an arrow to her bow, her solemn eyes traveled from the fletching to the fingertips, from the bowstring to the arrowhead.

Aiming, releasing.

Swish—

The long arrow with black fletching instantly disappeared from between the wooden bow, leaving only a sharp, piercing sound in the air.