Chapter 12: Heart of the Equation… Rebellion Against Fate
Within the depths of the Altar, where the scent of history mingled with the stench of fresh blood, time seemed frozen. Zhou Fan stood facing Master Mo, the man he had believed to be his hidden mentor, only to discover he was the hunter who had set the trap from the start.
The master's aura filled the narrow chamber, a spiritual pressure so heavy it pressed the air like lead, causing cracks to appear on the altar walls under his presence.
"A hidden copy?" Master Mo repeated, a smile blending admiration with contempt. "Young one, you are clever, and that is why I chose you. But your intelligence is trapped in a mortal body, in veins too frail even to carry candlelight. Do you think a few equations in your mind can protect you from a Farmer at the 'Spirit Refinement' stage?"
Zhou Fan didn't reply verbally. Instead, his mind worked at a speed he had never reached before. The Celestial Calculations in his mind flared a crimson red, data streaming like a waterfall.
[Opponent Analysis: Master Mo. Energy Level: undefined (exceeds comprehension by 1000x). Weakness: pride, complete reliance on spiritual pressure to subdue opponents.]
"Old man," Zhou Fan began, his voice calm enough to send shivers down the spine, "you calculated everything… the timing of the altar's opening, your need for my talent in decoding symbols. But you forgot one simple variable: why did you let me read the Codex completely before coming here?"
The smile on Master Mo's face faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"
"The Codex was not just a cultivation book," Zhou Fan continued, stepping forward, ignoring the pressure that threatened to crush his chest bones. "It was a computational virus. Every time you touched my shoulder or gave me a pill, I left a trace of chaotic energy in your meridians. You think you were observing me, but I was 'programming' your end from our first encounter in the valley."
Master Mo roared in fury, raising his hand for a crushing strike. "Nonsense! An ant like you cannot—"
But before his hand could move through the air, he froze. His bulging eyes spoke of terror. A strange cold spread through his veins, as if his blood had turned to unmoving sand. His immense spiritual energy, once like a raging hurricane, began to disintegrate from within.
"Now!" Zhou Fan shouted.
He did not strike the master. Instead, he drove the black dagger into the Heart of the Altar—the crystal glowing with golden light.
"Final Equation: Reverse Linking!"
Because Master Mo was spiritually connected to the altar to control it, stabbing the altar with Chaos Energy turned it into a drain, pulling the master's energy entirely into the void.
A deafening roar erupted. The altar began to collapse, and Master Mo screamed as he watched his power evaporate, drawn into nothingness. "You wretch! I'll kill you! I'll destroy this mountain with everyone on it!"
"The mountain will not be destroyed," Zhou Fan replied, retreating toward the secret exit he had calculated in advance. "Only you will vanish in your miscalculation. The 0.01% survival probability my mind calculated was not an escape… it was your death."
The altar exploded with a blinding white light.
When Zhou Fan awoke, he found himself lying on the grass of the Forest of Illusions. The sun had begun to rise, and the purple mist had completely dissipated. There was no trace of the altar, no trace of Master Mo, not even the body of Yang Lian. Everything had been swallowed by the computational void.
With great effort, Zhou Fan struggled to stand. His body was battered; his veins bled, and his mind felt a deadly emptiness. Yet in his hand, he still clutched the Codex of the Ash Kings.
"Fan! Zhou Fan!"
A familiar voice called. It was Chang. He ran toward him, tears in his eyes. "Time's up! Everyone left the forest, and the overseeing master was about to announce your death! How did you survive?"
Zhou Fan gave a faint smile. "I made some financial adjustments, Chang. Now… take me to the arena. I have a prize to claim."
At the Spirit Gate arena, the scene was awe-inspiring. Out of hundreds of students, only a few dozen remained. Grief and shock covered their faces due to the disappearance of the genius Yang Lian and Master Mo.
Master Gin, one of the senior elders, stood with a stern face. "The trial was catastrophic. We lost many. And since Yang Lian is gone, the first place goes to…"
"It goes to me," Zhou Fan interrupted, walking slowly, leaning on Chang's shoulder.
A deadly silence fell. The students initially looked at him with ridicule, but when Zhou Fan dropped a large sack to the ground, hundreds of identity cards and Level-2 monster cores spilled out, the ridicule vanished, replaced by sheer terror.
"This… this is impossible!" shouted Li Mo, Yang Lian's friend. "You're a servant! How did you gather all this?"
Zhou Fan looked at him coldly, his eyes having just killed a Spirit Refinement stage farmer. "Calculations don't lie, Li Mo. Want me to show you how I calculated your points too?"
Li Mo stepped back in fear. Master Gin descended from his platform, approaching Zhou Fan, scrutinizing him with piercing eyes. "Where is Yang Lian? And Master Mo?"
"Yang Lian died by his own greed," Zhou Fan replied coldly. "As for Master Mo… he discovered that his immortality equation contained a division by zero… so he evaporated."
Master Gin did not fully comprehend the words, but he saw the latent power in this child. The "punctured veins" they had mocked now radiated an inexplicable aura.
"Zhou Fan," Master Gin said in a resonant voice, "based on your results that surpass imagination… I declare you the first disciple of this trial. Not only that, you are promoted directly to a Core Disciple under the supervision of the top echelon."
The arena erupted with protests and screams, but Zhou Fan paid no attention. He gazed at the sky, where clouds began forming in a strange pattern.
"Phase One complete," Zhou Fan thought. "I've climbed from the valley floor to the mountain peak. But the real debts haven't even begun. Other sects, hidden emperors, and the entity that set this codex… they will all come."
As he walked toward the top echelon, a mysterious student in a long cloak covering his face passed by and whispered a single word into Zhou Fan's ear, causing him to pause:
"Well done on killing the master… young brother."
Zhou Fan tensed. "Young brother?"
He looked back, but the student had vanished among the crowd.
In that moment, Zhou Fan realized that the Celestial Calculations was not merely a book—it was a summons to a feast of death, and he was not the only one with a copy. There were other "brothers," other accountants of chaos, and the true game was only just beginning.