Chapter Five: The Serpent's Shadow and the Gamble of Despair
The air inside the sulfur mine grew heavier with each passing moment, as if the walls themselves were constricting the chests of those present.
Ember Serpent, the inner disciple whose name was stained with the blood of innocents, watched Zhuo Fan with eyes that mixed lethal curiosity and astonishment. To him, Zhuo Fan was just an ant carrying a jewel—an ant that needed to be crushed slowly to extract its secret.
For Zhuo Fan, however, his heartbeat raced—not from fear, but from the pressure of Dark Derivation still coursing through his veins like venom.
His hand, the same one that had felled the Fire Rodent, trembled silently behind his back, while his mind screamed with endless streams of data.
"Distance between us: seven steps. Floor: slippery from sulfur powder. Opponent: using 'Serpent Steps,' balance dependent on lateral movements. Weaknesses: arrogance… ignorance of what I possess."
"Threatening me with a mine collapse?" Ember Serpent hissed, his voice like a real snake.
"You little mortal, you don't know the difference between a 'mortal' and a 'cultivator.' Before your finger touches that crystal, I will have severed your tendons and made you beg for death."
Zhuo Fan chuckled coldly—a laugh unfit for a child, a laugh that made Ember Serpent pause.
"Three breaths…" Zhuo Fan said calmly.
"What?"
"This is the time your energy needs to complete a full cycle in your veins before you can launch your next attack. I used the 'Venom Strike' to kill the two disciples behind me before I arrived, and now your energy is rebalancing. You don't have the speed you claim—at least… not right now."
Ember Serpent's eyes widened. How could a servant, untouched by a cultivation base, know the cycle of his energy?
This boy was not merely intelligent—he was terrifying.
"Who are you really?" Ember Serpent asked, for the first time seriously, taking half a step back to reassess.
"I am merely an accountant who hates losing," Zhuo Fan replied.
"And now, let's do some calculations. If you kill me, you'll get the secret of 'Dark Derivation'—a corpse—because I will destroy my mind with the sulfur energy before you touch me.
If you let me go, I will give you something you crave… a way out of this mine before the 'Cleansing Elders'—who are approaching—arrive."
Ember Serpent's expression shifted.
"Elders? There are no elders in this filthy place."
"I calculated the wind currents ten minutes ago," Zhuo Fan said, pointing to the ventilation shaft above the mine ceiling.
"The scent of the Celestial Lavender incense used by the inner sect elders is seeping in. They are combing the mine for you, aren't they? You stole something from the sect and assumed this place would hide you."
Zhuo Fan was gambling.
He wasn't one hundred percent certain, but he noticed a trace of a broken spirit seal on Ember Serpent's wrist—a seal only possessed by those who had broken into the sect's vaults.
Sweat began to drip from Ember Serpent's face.
Fear of the elders mingled with desire for the boy's secret.
Meanwhile, Zhang watched from behind a rock, his body shaking so violently his teeth clattered.
He saw Zhuo Fan—the same boy who carried water yesterday—now standing calmly, negotiating with an inner sect beast. In that moment, Zhang realized the difference between him and Zhuo Fan wasn't talent—it was spirit.
"Fine…" Ember Serpent's tone betrayed a venomous trepidation.
"Tell me the way, and I'll let you live."
Zhuo Fan smiled—a smile devoid of hope.
"First, throw away that poisoned dagger hidden in your left sleeve."
Hesitant, Ember Serpent tossed the dagger.
"Speak now!"
"The path isn't through the main entrance—it's via the sulfur water channels beneath our feet. I calculated the flow rate; it drops every half hour, creating a natural exit leading to the forest behind the mountain. Go—two minutes before the passage closes due to the spiritual tide."
Ember Serpent glanced at the floor, then at Zhuo Fan one last time, full of menace.
"If you lie, I will search every corner of Long Yuan and tear you limb from limb."
He leapt into the water channel and vanished into the darkness.
As soon as he disappeared, Zhuo Fan collapsed to his knees.
He coughed up a torrent of black blood, his hands trembling violently.
Dark Derivation was tearing his veins apart from within; the black substance the old man gave him demanded a steep price for that momentary power.
"Fan… did he leave?" Zhang stammered, tears of fear streaming down his face.
"Go… leave… now…" Zhuo Fan gasped.
"There was no incense… no elders… I used the burnt sulfur stone to create a scent illusion… he will return once he realizes the trick."
Zhang was stunned.
Zhuo Fan had tricked a Level Three Body Tempering disciple with nothing but scent and psychological calculation.
"But where do we go?" Zhang asked, trying to support Zhuo Fan.
Zhuo Fan looked deeper into the mine, not toward the exit.
"Inward… to the lair of the 'Rat King.' The place no one dares enter is the only place the serpent will not search."
"This is suicide!" Zhang shouted.
"Suicide is staying here and waiting for the serpent to cut off our heads," Zhuo Fan replied, wiping blood from his mouth with a strange dignity.
"Calculate with me, Zhang… probability of death from the beast: 70%. Probability of death from the serpent: 100%. In my calculations… the remaining 30% is a gamble worth living for."
As the two ventured into the pitch-black mine, Zhuo Fan's journey shifted from mere survival to a challenge against the great powers.
He did not yet know that Ember Serpent was not the only one watching—and that this gamble would unlock a door to a legendary inheritance buried in the mine's depths for thousands of years.