Chapter 111: Dark Tide in the Capital

Both the black-clad attacker who ambushed him with poison needles, and the "Blood Seal Curse" that Zhou Mou produced when they fought desperately at the end, come from the same source!

But the old man's is stronger, more poisonous, and more... alive!

The old man didn't retreat but advanced, his withered claws reaching forward, nails turning black and sharp, emitting a piercing whistle as they tore through the air, straight for a black-clad man's face.

The black-clad man reacted quickly, twisting his wrist to block upward with his short blade.

Clang!

Sparks flew everywhere.

The black-clad man was shaken back three steps, his sword-hand trembling nonstop.

As for the old man's claws? Just a few faint white marks.

"What an evil trick!" another black-clad man growled, sidestepping in from the side and stabbing his short blade at the old man's ribs.

The old man didn't dodge, taking the blow head-on.

Pfft! A muffled sound of the blade entering flesh.

His face instead split into a twisted grin, his other hand moving like a shadow to seize the black-clad man's throat!

Crack!

The sound of breaking neck bones rang clear in the night.

The black-clad man didn't even grunt before his body went limp.

Blood welled from the old man's ribs, dark red with a black tinge and black qi; the flesh around the wound writhed, healing itself.

"Enough of this weirdness," Zhang Jun thought, his head aching.

This old geezer is far tougher to handle than expected.

Lin Xue frowned as well. "These black-clad men aren't locals from Bin Hai. Their movement, coordination, and gear—they're trained fighters, specialists in dirty work."

The fighting in the arena grew fiercer.

The black-clad men feared no death, cooperated well, and always found openings to strike the old man.

The old man's evil art is strange, he recovers quickly, his strikes are poisonous, and every move aims to take a life.

Both sides fought until the ground was pitted with holes, several trees snapped, and the air reeked of blood and a nauseating yin chill.

Time passed bit by bit.

Another three black-clad men fell.

The old man also accumulated seven or eight wounds, deep and shallow; though still holding on, his speed visibly slowed, his breathing grew ragged—he was clearly expending much energy.

He clutched fiercely at the copper-plate box on his chest, and the black-clad men focused their attacks there.

Once again it was a head‑on clash.

The old man was driven back by the three black-clad men, stumbling into a large tree and spitting out a mouthful of black blood with a "wah."

Those three black-clad men fared no better, caught by the old man's dying counter‑claw sweep that tore their clothes to reveal armor underneath, but they also suffered internal injuries, slowing their movements.

That was the moment!

Zhang Jun and Lin Xue moved almost simultaneously!

The two shot forth like silent arrows from the shadows.

Lin Xue led.

She didn't strike anyone directly, slamming both hands onto the ground!

Hum!

A chill cold to the bone exploded outward from her!

The ground crackled as a thin layer of ice formed, the cold surging like a tide toward the fight's center.

Whether the old man or the remaining black‑clad men, their movements froze instantly, as if stuck in sticky mud, their blood nearly solidifying.

Just for that moment!

For Zhang Jun, that was enough!

His internal pure‑yang heat flow peaked; he shifted his foot, his form blurring into a golden line as he shot past the frozen black‑clad man, aiming for the instant the emaciated old man, pulling back, loosened his grip on the box.

The old man's cloudy pupils contracted sharply, wanting to retaliate, but his body was frozen by the cold, slowing him.

Zhang Jun's fingertips had already touched the icy metal box!

Almost in that split second, the quickest black‑clad man broke free of the chill's restraint, roaring as he slashed a blade at Zhang Jun's back!

Zhang Jun didn't even turn his head.

He got the box!

He twisted his waist, left hand forming a seal and striking back!

Pure Yang Gang Qi gathered in his palm, striking first despite coming later, landing solidly on the black‑clad man's chest!

Boom!

A muffled thud.

The black‑clad man flew backward as if hit by a speeding truck, his chest collapsing, screaming until he lost consciousness mid‑air.

Done!

"Go!" Zhang Jun barked, not glancing at the startled, furious old man and the remaining black‑clad men, grabbing Lin Xue and darting into the deeper shadows opposite.

Swish‑swish‑swish, several black figures darted out of the darkness—reinforcements from the Mo School.

They swiftly created chaos, tossing a few smoke grenades that instantly blanketed the area.

Gunfire finally rang out, mixed with the old man's furious hoarse shouts and the black‑clad men's icy calls.

But Zhang Jun and Lin Xue were already gone.

……

Mo School Manor, a secluded guest room in the rear courtyard.

The lamp light was warm and cozy, driving away the chill outside.

Zhang Jun placed the metal box he had snatched back onto the table.

It felt ice-cold to the touch, heavier than his previous box, and its patterns were more intricate and aged.

He steadied himself, trying to channel his Pure Yang Power to touch it.

The box gave no response.

Lin Xue extended a finger, winding a few strands of Profound Yin chill around her fingertip, and lightly tapped the box.

Click.

With a soft sound, the box sprang open.

Inside there were no traps or hidden weapons, just a palm-sized bronze plate lying still on a velvet pad.

The plate's surface was pitted and covered in verdigris, its edges rough, indeed as if it had been wrenched off some large object.

Looking closely, one could see that it was etched all over with dense, twisting symbols.

These symbols resembled those on the black sheet he had obtained earlier and the pattern on the iron box Kun gave him, sharing a style but not quite the same—feeling older, and… more complete.

Zhang Jun also took out his own black sheet and the beast bone bearing the fragmentary heart method, carefully placing them beside the bronze plate.

The three items lay together.

Those originally chaotic symbols, vague and hazy, seemed to align, to complement each other, like three pieces fallen from a huge puzzle.

"These symbols…" Lin Xue whispered, the blue crystal at her throat glowing faintly, also resonating with the fragments, "It looks like they can be connected."

Zhang Jun tried to assemble the three pieces following the flow of the symbols.

Sure enough!

Although the gaps were still large, some lines and curves could barely match, faintly tracing out a corner of an exceedingly complex pattern.

The pattern was neither round nor square, exuding an indescribably eerie beauty and an antiquated flavor.

"Kun…" Zhang Jun rubbed his chin, his thoughts racing, "At the auction, his people drove the price up so high, then just dropped out. Did he already anticipate someone would come to snatch it? Or perhaps tonight's whole show was his arrangement?"

Lin Xue lifted her face: "Using a knife to kill? Letting us fight like snipe and clam so he can reap the profit? No, this thing ended up in our hands."

"It's possible." Zhang Jun stared at the half‑assembled pattern, "He gave us the fragment of the heart method, and now he's 'sent' another piece… What does he want us to do? What is this thing we're putting together?"