Chapter Eighteen: In the Shadow of the Empire… The Human Chessboard
Zhuo Fan left Broken Bones Valley behind, carrying with him a terrifying legend that would be whispered about for generations to come.
His journey was not a simple change of location—it was a displacement within the fabric of reality itself. Every step he took was calculated, and every breath he drew was part of a grand computation meant to reorganize his newly acquired power.
Ling'er followed silently behind him, her eyes never leaving his back. She watched as the plants he passed grew faint and withered slightly, as if Zhuo Fan's presence itself was draining the probabilities from their surroundings. She no longer saw him as human, but as a walking black rift—one that devoured light and logic alike.
"Where are we going?" Ling'er finally asked, her voice trembling as she broke the suffocating silence.
"If we return to the sect's main headquarters, the grand elders will immediately know you killed Long Xiao. The Soul Tracing Formation there never makes mistakes."
Zhuo Fan halted abruptly and turned to her with a faint, enigmatic smile that sent a chill through her spine.
"The Soul Tracing Formation operates on the principle of a fixed spiritual imprint," he said calmly.
"They are searching for Long Xiao's missing energy signature. But what if I merged his frequency into my own? What if Long Xiao became nothing more than an added variable in my calculations?"
Ling'er didn't understand—until Zhuo Fan took out Long Xiao's Storage Ring.
With a single touch, the ring liquefied into a golden metallic fluid and was absorbed directly through Zhuo Fan's skin. Instantly, his aura began to shift. The terrifying black power receded, replaced by the pale green aura that had once belonged to Long Xiao. Even his facial features subtly sharpened, becoming colder and more sinister.
"This is… Essence Substitution Art?!" Ling'er gasped in disbelief.
"But that technique requires decades of cultivation!"
"It only requires correcting genetic and spiritual coefficients," Zhuo Fan replied indifferently.
"We are heading to the Imperial City—Tianlong. The Autumn Dragon Banquet will soon be held there."
He continued walking as he spoke.
"The geniuses of the Ten Great Sects, imperial princes, and even spies from other continents will all gather. It is the optimal environment to collect data—and dismantle my opponents one by one."
After three days of travel, the massive walls of Tianlong City rose on the horizon. These were no ordinary walls—they were forged from Thunderstone, an insulating material engraved with thousands of defensive formations that shimmered beneath the sunlight. The city pulsed with life… but to Zhuo Fan, it pulsed with chaos.
At the city gates, guards clad in silver armor crackling with lightning energy stood watch. The inspection was thorough, and the spiritual pressure alone was enough to suffocate ordinary cultivators.
"Name," a guard demanded sharply, raising a Mirror of Falsehood Detection toward Zhuo Fan.
"Long Xiao, Seventh Peak of the Long Yuan Sect," Zhuo Fan answered, perfectly mimicking Long Xiao's arrogant tone.
The mirror flashed with a clear green light.
The guard froze, then immediately bowed with respect.
"My apologies, Junior Brother Long. Please enter. His Majesty's banquet awaits geniuses such as yourself."
Once inside, they were swallowed by a sea of people and flying carriages. The city was a vast geometric labyrinth—every street designed as part of a colossal Imperial Defensive Formation.
"The city's core formation is based on the Eight Bagua," Zhuo Fan analyzed silently as he walked.
"But there is a flaw in the southeastern quadrant. The spiritual flow is unstable by 0.003%. It seems the old emperor is losing control over the Dragon Vein beneath the city."
Zhuo Fan rented a pavilion in the most luxurious inn in the city—the Golden Cloud Pavilion. He wasn't seeking comfort, but a vantage point. From his window, he could see the imperial palace, partially floating in the air under the influence of dragon energy.
"Ling'er," Zhuo Fan said as he sat down in meditation.
"I want you to go to the Information Market in the lower district. Look for any news related to the Third Prince. Rumor says he has been collecting ancient spiritual equations to challenge his father. I want to know which equation he possesses."
"But… the Third Prince is infamous for his cruelty," Ling'er protested.
"If he discovers I'm spying—"
"You are not spying," Zhuo Fan interrupted, opening his golden eye as it began to glow ominously.
"You will be the bait."
With a casual gesture, invisible calculations rippled through the air.
"I will alter your aura to resemble a cultivator from the lost Burning Lotus Sect. The Third Prince has been searching for survivors of that sect for years. You won't look for him—he will come looking for you."
Ling'er felt a wave of dread wash over her. Zhuo Fan wasn't merely planning battles—he was moving people like chess pieces on a board only he could see.
As Ling'er departed, Zhuo Fan took out the Lost Celestial Calculations.
New symbols began to manifest on the next page:
(Void Derivation: Urban and Imperial Structural Engineering)
"Soon," Zhuo Fan murmured to himself,
"this magnificent city will become nothing more than a massive zero in my calculations. I will absorb this Dragon Vein… and turn your empire into sand."
That night, as the city reveled in celebration, Zhuo Fan began inscribing a Concealed Absorption Formation across the floor of his room.
Thus began the first stage of infiltrating the imperial Dragon Vein—
an operation that would forever alter the balance of power across the continent.