Chapter 106: Boundary Loosens

The tearing sound of concrete almost drowned out the off‑road vehicle's engine roar. Zhang Jun gripped the roof handle with one hand, feeling as if his five viscera and six bowels were about to be thrown out. Gravel hammered the body like hail, and the window glass groaned under the strain. Beneath the research institute something had fully awakened; a dull, frenzied howl came through the thick strata, and the whole area trembled and collapsed.

Lin Xue huddled in the back‑seat corner, her face as white as paper, lips pressed tight. The wound on her arm, torn open by the monster's claw wind, had crusted black and looked painful. She was usually taciturn, now silent as ice.

Kun rested one hand casually on the steering wheel, the other shifting quickly and precisely. The powerful off‑road vehicle slid in his grip like a slippery loach, always squeezing through a second before the steel‑and‑concrete wreckage closed in. His face showed little expression, his gaze focused and intimidating, as if he weren't fleeing for his life but solving a complex math problem.

"Zhou Mu is dead." Zhang Jun forced the words from between his teeth, thick with the smell of blood. Every jolt sent sharp pain through his chest, his lungs wheezing like a broken bellows. Night wind laden with dust and burnt odor poured through the shattered window, stinging his skin. He felt like he was falling apart, but he forced himself to speak.

Lin Xue said nothing, merely gripping the blue crystal at her chest until her fingers blanched. Her eyes were downcast, her feelings unreadable, only the faint tremor of her lashes betraying a hint of emotion.

"What exactly is a night watchman?" Zhang Jun asked, his voice hoarse after catching his breath.

Kun stared ahead, his tone flat as if commenting on the weather: "Literally. Someone who guards the night, keeping certain things from running loose."

"Guard what?"

"Boundaries." Kun spoke concisely: "The line between the living and the dead, here and there, order and chaos."

Lin Xue jerked her head up, voice trembling: "The boundary… has it loosened?"

"It's been loose for a while, and the gap keeps widening." Kun's tone was even: "That thing they kept in the research institute is just a bit of sludge that leaked out. Some things have awakened."

Zhang Jun's heart gave a jolt. The boundary shifting, monsters bursting out… he felt like he'd fallen into a bottomless vortex, sinking deeper and deeper. What is this? He suddenly thought that his days giving acupuncture and cupping at the little clinic had been pure heaven.

A faint warmth suddenly emanated from the blue crystal on Lin Xue's chest. She lowered her gaze; its deep blue sheen seemed deeper than usual. The feeling was familiar, like when she had neared the metal box in Zhang Jun's pocket—a vague pull between them.

"The box you gave us…" Lin Xue couldn't help but say.

Kun flicked a glance at her through the rearview mirror, then snapped his attention back to the road. He seemed able to read minds, knowing what they wanted to ask. "Some old coot's trinket buried at the bottom of a chest, left so long it's almost forgotten. It's meant to sort the meridians for people like you whose yin and yang qi run wild. Whether it opens, and how far, is up to your fate."

"Come on, can't you just say it straight? You're dribbling it out like toothpaste." Zhang Jun couldn't help but complain; the pain in his chest made speaking an effort.

No sooner had he spoken than Kun jerked the wheel, the car skimming the shoulder as it threw itself into a ninety‑degree turn, tires screaming. Then, as if he'd grown eyes in the back of his head, he made a series of seemingly casual lane changes and turns, the vehicle slipping nimbly into an alley and back out, shaking off the several distant, sneaky ordinary cars that had been tailing them.

"Lin Zhen's dog has a keen nose." Kun snorted coldly. "With a commotion like that at the research institute, he couldn't possibly not know."

The air inside the car froze once more.

"Hey, where are we headed?" Zhang Jun broke the silence, unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere.

"The Mo Family." Kun spoke sparingly.

"What are we going to the Mo Family for? Refuge?" Zhang Jun frowned.

"To treat our injuries, and meanwhile figure out what to do next." Kun's reply was simple and blunt.

After another hour or so of winding turns, the car entered an extremely secluded lane flanked by dense trees, finally stopping before a spacious, antiquated manor‑style compound. High walls shut out the outside clamor; two guards in black training uniforms stood at the gate, their temples slightly bulging, breath steady and long. Seeing Kun's license plate, they saluted without a word and swung open the heavy carved iron gate.

The car crept into the manor; a fresh scent of medicinal herbs mixed with damp earth rushed over them, instantly dispelling the earlier haze of burnt and bloody smells. Here it was so quiet one could hear the rustle of leaves in the wind—utterly different from the world outside.

Warm light glowed at the main gate. Mo Tianhe stood on the steps in a dark blue buttoned jacket, hands behind his back, face solemn—he had clearly been waiting a while. Seeing Zhang Jun and Lin Xue all but tossed out of the car by Kun, especially noticing the ferocious wound on Lin Xue's arm, his brows tightened further.

"Come inside first." Mo Tianhe said without extra words, his voice low, stepping aside: "The medicine, the rooms—everything's ready."

At once several disciples in Mo Family uniforms stepped forward, swiftly supporting the barely‑standing Zhang Jun and Lin Xue and leading them quickly into the side hall of the main residence.

A rich but not irritating medicinal aroma filled the air. They cleaned the wound, applied a dark‑green ointment, and carefully wrapped it with clean gauze; the Mo Family disciples' practiced motions were reassuring.

Mo Tianhe personally stepped over, placed two fingers on Zhang Jun's wrist pulse, closed his eyes to focus for a moment, then moved to Lin Xue. His brows would relax then tighten, his expression somewhat strange.

"How odd… the power inside you two is a chaotic mess, violently colliding, yet there's a faint trace of merging. Truly contradictory." He opened his eyes, gaze sharp on them: "What exactly happened in the research institute?"

Kun had stood like a shadow at the side; now he glanced at the two whose wounds had been treated, nodded to Mo Tianhe as a greeting: "I'm handing them over to you—I've got other business."

He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway, looking back at Zhang Jun and Lin Xue, his gaze landing on the pocket where Zhang Jun carried the box. "What's inside that box might be your only way out right now." He paused, his tone devoid of warmth: "But remember, the fusion of power is far more dangerous than you imagine. Mishandle it, and you'll burn to ash."

As his words fell, Kun's figure seemed swallowed by the porch shadow, vanishing without a sound.

Mo Tianhe watched the direction Kun had disappeared, his expression complex, finally sighing softly. He stepped up to Zhang Jun, his eyes falling on the unremarkable metal box in his pocket. "This box…" He leaned in, examining the worn pattern on its surface. "Strange—the runes look vaguely familiar, like a prohibition recorded in some lost tome of my Mo Family… interesting." He patted Zhang Jun's shoulder. "All right, don't dwell on it now. Your top priority is rest, replenish your essence, energy, and spirit. In my Mo Family, for the time being, no one dares to cause trouble."

Zhang Jun and Lin Xue were assigned a secluded, elegant guest room in the rear courtyard. After seeing off the Mo Family disciples and shutting the heavy wooden door, cutting off the outside world, they felt as if all their strength had been drained, slumping almost simultaneously into the chairs, weariness washing over them like a tide.

Zhang Jun leaned against the cool chairback, took a few deep breaths, then reached into his lap and pulled out the icy metal box. It felt heavy in hand, its surface a matte texture bearing the marks of time.

The instant he gripped the box, a faint throb, like a heartbeat, pulsed from within. Even more remarkably, this throb resonated with the pure yang power dormant in his dantian and the profound yin qi naturally emanating from Lin Xue, producing an ineffable harmony.

They almost simultaneously lifted their heads, looking at each other, seeing in each other's eyes disbelief and a hint of… inquiry.

Zhang Jun rubbed the blurred pattern on the box's surface, his Adam's apple twitching.

"Now… shall we take a look?" he asked, his voice dry.