31: Chapter 31 The Middleman Blocking the Altar of Flesh and Blood?

Finally.

At the edge of the horizon, a pillar of dark red light pierced the sky.

Altar of Flesh.

Its entire body was built from deep red crystals and white bones, with a base large enough to park three helicopters.

Dark red liquid patterns flowed across the crystal surfaces; from afar, it looked like a bleeding mountain.

The altar's highest spire pierced the low gray clouds, and a red glow seeped from beneath them, dyeing the sky for hundreds of meters in a sickly crimson.

But the scene around the altar caused the temperature in the cabin to plummet.

Iron everywhere.

Charred, twisted, crushed iron.

Seven or eight modified vehicles—pickups, SUVs, and a minibus welded with iron plates—had all turned into piles of burning scrap metal, scattered across the clearing in front of the altar.

The flames weren't out yet, and pillars of black smoke rose into the sky one after another.

In the gaps between the vehicles were people.

Or rather, human parts.

An arm rested on a pickup's hood, the cut clean.

Half a torso was embedded in a pile of broken glass.

A head had rolled next to a roadside drainage ditch, its eyes still open.

Those desperate convoys that had rushed along, stripping all supplies in their path—they had all met their end here.

There were no bullet holes on the vehicle bodies, and no claw marks on the armor plates.

These people and vehicles had been crushed into fragments by some overwhelming force in an incredibly short amount of time.

A one-sided slaughter.

Shen Wanxing's face turned pale, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her windbreaker.

Jiang Yanxue narrowed her eyes, her hand already reaching for the hilt on her tactical strap.

Chen Chen slowed the vehicle down, his gaze passing through the windshield, across the ruins of blood and fire, and landing on the highest step of the altar.

Something was sitting there.

Humanoid, but not human.

A black robe covered it from head to toe; the material was hard to identify—not cloth, but more like some kind of treated leather.

The figure beneath the black robe was tall and thin, legs crossed, in a relaxed posture as if sunbathing on its own balcony.

Its right hand was held up in front of it. Five overly long fingers pinched something the size of a fist, slowly rotating and playing with it.

It was dark red and still dripping blood.

A heart, a human heart.

The RV stopped a hundred meters from the altar.

The black-robed figure looked up.

The face under the hood was hidden in shadows, its features indiscernible.

But two clusters of eerie green flames lit up within that darkness.

Ghostly fires burning in the eye sockets.

Its gaze crossed the wreckage and burning scrap metal covering the ground, landing on the heavy-duty RV dragging the Tyrant's corpse.

The black robe split into a curve.

The position of that curve was roughly where a mouth would be.

A raspy voice, like stones grinding over a dry riverbed, drifted down from the top of the altar, echoing throughout the space shrouded in red light.

"Finally... a bug has come with enough offerings..."

The black-robed figure stood up.

The two clusters of eerie green fire under the hood flickered as it kicked the still-bleeding heart down the steps.

The heart bounced down the bone steps one by one, making dull thuds.

"You... are slightly more interesting than the bugs before you."

The raspy voice poured down from the top of the altar, wrapped in a sickly sweet rot that made one's stomach churn.

The black-robed figure extended a withered finger, pointing at the Tyrant's remains being dragged by chains behind the RV.

"Place that lump of meat behind you and that chain at the base of the altar."

"Do as I say, and this Apostle can grant you God's Grace. You and the little bugs in the vehicle can all leave alive."

Inside the cabin.

Chen Chen turned his head and lowered his voice, "Can you still scan?"

Shen Wanbing, in the passenger seat, leaned back against her chair, the bloodstains at the corners of her eyes not yet wiped clean.

She didn't open her eyes, giving a slight shake of her head.

"My mental power is bottomed out. Turning on the radar again isn't just a matter of overexertion—it would cause permanent damage."

Chen Chen didn't say another word.

He was well aware of Shen Wanbing's physical condition.

After forcibly detecting the Tyrant's core twice before, this woman had already squeezed herself to the point of exhaustion.

Forcing her to continue was no different from killing her.

But Shen Wanbing didn't stay silent.

She propped herself up on the armrest, her voice dry, but her speaking speed was terrifyingly fast.

"The exact text of the system mission is 'sacrifice a monster's corpse to the altar.' To the altar. Not to some person, some thing, or some so-called Apostle."

She paused for a beat.

"It's waiting here and killed everyone in those seven or eight vehicles. What about the monster corpses they had? Were they placed on the altar?"

Chen Chen's gaze swept outside the windshield.

Scrap metal, minced meat, burning cars everywhere—yet not a single monster's remains could be seen.

This thing intercepted them all.

"A middleman," Shen Wanbing used a very precise business term.

"This black-robed figure is a middleman. It intercepts the players' offerings and takes the rewards for itself. It gives you some scraps and calls it 'Grace,' keeping the right to eat the meat for itself."

Her bloodshot eyes looked at Chen Chen.

"Once you voluntarily push the corpse over, the second it gets the item, we'll all die. The severed limbs on the steps—that's how the people from those vehicles ended up."

Chen Chen's expression turned cold.

Staring at the black silhouette atop the altar a hundred meters away, he tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the steering wheel.

"Shen Wanxing, Jiang Yanxue. Weapon consoles, now."

Rustling sounds came from the back.

Jiang Yanxue was the first in position, grabbing the joystick so hard her knuckles cracked.

The screen lit up, and the crosshairs locked onto the black-robed silhouette in the night-vision feed.

"I've been waiting for this," Jiang Yanxue grinned.

Shen Wanxing squeezed over as well, gasping as her bare feet touched the cold metal floor.

She sat in the other firing position, hands gripping the joystick. Her palms were covered in sweat, but she didn't let go.

Chen Chen glanced at the ammo count.

237 rounds of armor-piercing incendiary bullets remaining, split evenly between the front and rear firing points. It was enough.

On the altar, the black-robed figure waited for over ten seconds without receiving a response.

The ghostly fire under the hood changed color, turning from eerie green to dark green, filled with anger.

"Bug, this Apostle's patience is limited."

It slowly raised both hands.

Ten fingers, so withered they didn't look human, spread open, and dark red mist seeped from the fingertips.

The air began to tremble—not from the wind, but from some power at the level of rules tearing at the physical constants of this space.

Dark red energy twisted into a sphere in its palms, and the radiating pressure caused the metal protective mesh on the vehicle windows to hum slightly.

It was making a move on the chains.

Chen Chen felt a strange pulling force from the rear—the runes on the Spatial Traction Chain were flashing, but the rhythm was off, as if being interfered with by an external force.

This thing intended to seize control of the chains from a distance.

Channeling.

The biggest weakness of a caster-type monster—channeling.

Chen Chen's right foot landed on the gas pedal without a second's hesitation.

He floored it.

The C-rank turbocharger kit let out a hysterical shriek.

The eleven-ton heavy fortress was like a stone shot from a slingshot; the front end lifted slightly, and the six B-rank self-healing tires dug six deep grooves into the ground.

The steering wheel was dead straight.

Target—the altar steps.

"A carbon-based lifeform channeling in front of an eleven-ton heavy vehicle?"

Chen Chen's hands gripped the steering wheel, his voice torn to shreds by the engine's roar.

"Who gave you the courage?"

The black-robed figure's spell was only halfway condensed.

It looked down.

The Heavy-duty serrated bull bar filled its entire field of vision.

The moment the serrations cut into the black robe, Chen Chen heard a strange sound—not of bones shattering, but more like a piece of dried charcoal being run over by a truck.

Brittle and muffled.

The black robe was shredded into strips by the serrated edges, and the withered body inside bore the full kinetic energy of eleven tons of moving mass at 140 km/h.

It went flying.

The trajectory was ugly.

It wasn't a straight-line ejection but a spinning, tumbling, uncontrolled parabola scattering fragments in the air.

It finally slammed into the seventh step of the altar, smashing a humanoid indentation into the crimson crystals.

Brake.

The tires dragged for over ten meters across the bone rubble at the base of the altar before the RV came to a steady stop.

"Fire!"

Two C-rank twin-mounted vehicle heavy machine guns roared simultaneously.

The muzzle flashes formed a solid wall of fire in the night.

12.7mm Armor-piercing incendiary rounds slammed into the black robe's landing spot at a rate of ten rounds per second, turning the entire face of the altar steps into a waterfall of rubble.

Dark red crystals exploded in the barrage, with bone fragments and stone shards flying into the air.

Jiang Yanxue gritted her teeth, pushing the joystick all the way down.

The ammo belt of the front turret spun rapidly, and metal shell casings clattered onto the roof's weapon bay cover, piling up into a small mountain.

Shen Wanxing followed suit.

Her aim wasn't as good as Jiang Yanxue's, but the firing arc of the rear turret was wide enough that the entire area was covered airtight.

237 rounds of armor-piercing incendiary bullets were poured out completely in less than twenty seconds.

The gun barrels turned red, and the robotic arm's cooling system hummed.

The ammo count hit zero.

Smoke and dust blotted out the sky.

Chen Chen didn't wait for the smoke to clear.

The armored door pushed open, and his boots hit the ground.

"Absolute Stealth, activate."

A cold current surged from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, and water-like ripples swept over his body.

His silhouette was erased in the moonlight, and even his shadow cast on the rubble vanished.

He pulled out a suppressed pistol and held an Armor-Piercing Military Dagger in a reverse grip.

He stepped onto the altar steps.

The smoke and dust began to thin from the edges.

Chen Chen walked through the drifting ash and burning fragments to where the black-robed figure had landed.

As expected.

If something that could act as a toll station for the Altar of Flesh was killed by a single wave of physical damage, the system would be far too sloppy.