Chapter 11: Altar Night… The First Cry of Chaos
The purple mist had turned into a deep, suffocating darkness enveloping the forest—a night illuminated only by the glow of the Altar, which radiated a crimson light like the awakening eye of a demon.
Zhou Fan stood before Chen Yu, the assassin from the Shadow Black Sect. The atmosphere was charged with an energy that constricted breath itself.
"Show me where that coward Yang Lian is, and I'll make your death quick… later," Chen Yu said coldly, licking the poisoned dagger in his hand.
Zhou Fan smiled, but his eyes darted rapidly behind the fog, calculating every angle. "Variable (A) Chen Yu: reaction speed 0.1 seconds. Variable (B) Yang Lian: approaching northeast at decreasing speed. Variable (C) Altar: requires blood energy to fully activate."
"There… behind those sulfurous rocks," Zhou Fan indicated with a hand.
At that moment, Yang Lian burst into the clearing, his clothes torn, his face smeared with blood, followed by two Shadow Black Sect killers. Upon seeing Zhou Fan standing alongside Chen Yu, his eyes bulged with shock and rage.
"Zhou Fan! You despicable servant! Are you betraying your sect and allying with these dogs?!" Yang Lian shouted, staggering.
Zhou Fan didn't respond. He stepped back two paces, precisely to the spot where he had drawn his hidden runes.
"Betrayal?" Chen Yu laughed loudly. "He's just a clever servant who knows who the real master of this forest is. Yang Lian, the Long Yuan Sect sent you here to be the sacrificial fodder to open this Altar, and we are here to harvest the fruits!"
Chen Yu shot forward like an arrow at Yang Lian. Despite his injuries, Yang Lian, a Level-3 Farmer, desperately unleashed Thunder Palm. Lightning collided with Chen Yu's poisoned dagger, causing a small explosion that sent nearby trees flying.
Zhou Fan moved then. He didn't strike either of them directly. Instead, he slammed his fist onto the ground, charged with Black Ash energy.
"Activate… Dissipation Ring Matrix!"
Suddenly, the ground beneath the fighters trembled. The circles Zhou Fan had secretly carved began glowing black. Chen Yu and Yang Lian felt their spiritual energy being forcibly drawn toward the Altar.
"What… did you do?!" Chen Yu screamed, dropping to his knees, his body shaking.
"I merely accelerated the calculations," Zhou Fan said calmly, walking through the chaos. "The Altar needs blood, and you both have plenty of it. Yang Lian, you wanted to see me crushed? Well, look closely—you are now just a number in my equation to inherit the legacy."
As the Altar absorbed the farmers' energy, a stone gate opened at its base, releasing a faint golden glow. This was the Heart of the Inheritance.
But Chen Yu was no easy opponent. He pressed his core, unleashing forbidden internal energy that allowed him to break free from the matrix's constraints for a few seconds.
"You filthy wretch! I'll drag your head to Hell!"
Chen Yu lunged at Zhou Fan, the poisoned dagger aimed at his throat. The distance was too short for anyone at Zhou Fan's level to dodge easily.
Then something strange happened. The Celestial Calculations in Zhou Fan's mind started spinning wildly, and a new golden-tinted page emerged: [Temporal Calculation Technique: Zero Second].
To the world, one second had passed. To Zhou Fan, time stopped.
He saw particles of dust suspended midair, beads of sweat on Chen Yu's face, and the precise trajectory of the dagger.
Zhou Fan moved with a simple 45-degree tilt, placing his hand on Chen Yu's wrist. He didn't push—it was a mere guidance.
When time resumed, Chen Yu found his poisoned dagger plunged not into Zhou Fan, but into Yang Lian, who had been attempting to rise behind him!
"Y-you…" Yang Lian stammered, blood spilling from his mouth before his eyes turned to glass, life extinguished within them.
Yang Lian collapsed dead, and as his blood touched the Altar, the entire mountain shuddered. A terrifying scream erupted from the Altar, as if an ancient spirit had been unleashed.
Chen Yu staggered back, trembling, glancing at his hands and then at Zhou Fan, who stood calmly, not a scratch on him. "Who… who are you really? Impossible for a servant!"
"I am the one closing your account today," Zhou Fan said.
At that moment, a thread of red energy emerged from the Altar, coiling around Chen Yu's neck and pulling him toward the stone opening. Chen Yu screamed, tearing through the night's silence before vanishing into the Altar, which snapped shut like a beast's jaws.
Silence fell.
Zhou Fan stood alone before the open Altar, advancing with steady steps into the secret passage. At the end of the corridor, he found a small chamber with a stone table at its center, upon which lay an ancient book surrounded by a halo of black lightning.
On the wall, written in old blood:
"Power is not in the sword, but in knowing where to place it. He who holds the calculations, holds destiny."
Zhou Fan grasped the book, and in that instant, immense memories and knowledge flowed into his mind. This was no ordinary inheritance—it was the Codex of the Ash Kings, the lost part sought by the world for thousands of years.
Yet his victory was short-lived. A familiar voice echoed from the altar entrance.
"Impressive… truly impressive."
Zhou Fan turned to see the old Master Mo (the elder who had given him the Celestial Calculations) standing there. But he no longer looked frail. His aura was terrifying, and his eyes shone with a purple light.
"You have passed the test, Zhou Fan," the master said with a mysterious smile. "I needed a brilliant accountant to open this tomb for me. Now, having brought me the book… I no longer need you."
Zhou Fan realized the bitter truth: he had been used as a tool from the start. The elder had not given him the calculations out of mercy, but to serve as a human key.
"Current probability of survival against Master Mo: 0.01%," whispered the Celestial Calculations in his mind.
Zhou Fan let out a short, defiant laugh. "Old man… you forgot one rule in the calculations: the accountant always keeps a hidden copy for himself."