Chapter 113: Glazed Cup Shadow, Hidden Thorn's First Sprout

Lin Feng's arrogance on his face collapsed instantly, and he subconsciously stepped back half a step.

What Zhang Jun said matched exactly the stifling feeling from his recent practice and the hesitant, wanting-to-speak-but-stopping tone from those who privately advised him at home.

This kid…… how did he see that?

"You… you're full of shit!" Lin Feng's throat was dry; the voice he shouted out trembled.

"Believe it or not, it's up to you." Zhang Jun pointed at the door, "Take your time, I won't see you out."

Lin Feng's face alternated between green and white, he stared hard at Zhang Jun, wanting to throw out a few polite lines, but his heart pounded like a drum, the earlier fright still not subdued.

He even felt that Zhang Jun just stood there casually, the surrounding aura made him uncomfortable, warm and gentle yet exerting a pressure that left him breathless.

Finally, Lin Feng stomped his foot resentfully, taking with him the two attendants whose faces were equally strange, and fled in disgrace.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

"The Lin clan…" Zhang Jun walked to the window and stood side by side with Lin Xue.

"That guy Kun, his warning was spot on."

The phone vibrated.

It was a message from Su Muqing sent over an encrypted line, efficient enough.

The message confirmed the details of that antique exchange gathering; it was high-end, attended by prominent figures from the capital, and behind the organizers, sure enough, was the Qin clan.

"The Qin clan…" Zhang Jun rubbed his chin with his fingers.

Kun's warning surfaced again—beware of those surnamed Lin and those surnamed Qin.

The Lin clan came forward first; what about the Qin clan? Why are they involved in this, and what do they want?

In the information Su Muqing sent, she also mentioned a few old places in the capital—Glazed Tile Factory, Pan Family Garden—and finally highlighted a specific alley.

"East Lane of White Pagoda Temple…"

Lin Xue stared at those characters on the screen, her finger pausing.

It was a very subtle pause, but the cold aura around her fluctuated extremely briefly, like a thin crack appearing on a calm ice surface.

"How?" Zhang Jun noticed.

"Nothing." Lin Xue withdrew her hand, looking out the window, "I've heard someone mention it before."

Zhang Jun didn't press further.

He tried contacting several capital connections given by Mo Tianhe, hoping to inquire about that "Medicine Sect medicinal device," but the parties either gave vague answers or said they'd never heard of it.

The news was kept truly tight-lipped.

All that's known is that it seems related to alchemy or some secret art.

Over the next two days, however, things were calm and peaceful.

The Lin clan didn't send anyone else, and the Qin clan side remained quiet.

But the feeling of being watched grew heavier, clinging to him, impossible to shake off.

It wasn't just one group.

Some carried the same hurried, impatient vibe as Lin Feng.

Others were hidden deeper, colder, like a venomous snake beneath the water, patiently waiting for you to slip up.

"They're waiting." Lin Xue wiped a few ice needles, their tips flashing cold light.

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for us to make the first move… or… waiting for that exchange gathering."

The day before the exchange gathering.

Su Muqing sent another message, saying the organizers had temporarily added a pre-warmer cocktail party at the private club where the exchange gathering would be held.

The invitations had already been sent to the hotel front desk.

"Go or not?" Zhang Jun took out that cold bronze fragment, weighing it in his hand.

The ancient symbols on the fragment seemed to be sending him a faint response.

Lin Xue put away the ice needles and stood up.

"The hook's already down; we have to go see what fish bites."

The private club on the hillside, looking down from the terrace, took in the lights of half the capital, like a spilled jewelry box.

Inside, the crystal lights swayed, making eyes dizzy; the air mixed a cloying perfume with the sharp smell of cigar smoke.

Men and women held wine glasses, wearing proper smiles, speaking bland pleasantries.

As Zhang Jun and Lin Xue entered, the commotion in the room eased slightly.

Many heads turned toward them, a sticky feeling clung to them, uncomfortable.

In this capital, unfamiliar faces were glaring.

Zhang Jun could gauge the weight of those stares.

Some lurked in the shadows of corners, carrying a chilly, assessing vibe.

Some of the old men's attendants, even from afar, exuded a condescending air.

There were also a few noisy young people, their impatience and exclusivity almost written on their faces.

Lin Xue shifted her body slightly, like an invisible wall blocking a few overly brazen glances.

The chill from her fingertips sank a bit further.

She found this kind of place tiresome to the core.

"Yo, isn't this the divine doctor Zhang from Bin Hai?"

A slick, oily voice slipped into the ear.

Lin Feng.

This kid showed up again.

He changed his clothes, and his entourage changed as well—several burly martial artists with bulging temples joined, clearly not the same two as last time.

He stepped right up to the two of them, his face plainly bearing the words "looking for trouble".

This is to make up for the face he lost last time.

"How come? Last time Divine Doctor Zhang said my practice had gone awry, so I really went to have someone check me."

Lin Feng deliberately raised his voice, afraid those around wouldn't hear.

"The result was, they told me my qi and blood are abundant, my foundation solid! Meanwhile some people are all talk—who knows if they'd be this tough if they actually fought?"

The few guards behind him stepped forward, their aura strong.

The onlookers swarmed over in a rush, eager to watch the show.

On the capital's streets, teasing an outstation dragon—who wouldn't love to see that?

Zhang Jun casually snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and gave it a swirl.

The golden liquid bubbled with fine beads.

"Abundant qi and blood?"

He slowly repeated the phrase, lifted his wrist, the knuckles of the hand that had felt countless pulses standing out.

"Or let me feel your pulse again?"

Lin Feng's face twitched, his feet wanting to step back.

"Last time it was deficient chest yang, qi stagnating in the middle burner."

Zhang Jun spoke softly, but each word was clear.

"Looking at your complexion this time, deficient heat is floating upward while below it's chilly—you sleep restlessly, your palms and soles feeling hot, right?"

"Forcing your practice upward has drained the moisture at your root. If you keep being 'abundant' like this…"

He drew out the tone, not finishing his thought.

The faint color on Lin Feng's face vanished in a swipe, leaving him deathly pale.

Those in the know looked at Lin Feng's grief‑stricken expression, then pondered Zhang Jun's words, their faces breaking into a smirk as if watching a monkey show.

This Lin family lad really is a piece of work—he even had his pants pulled down in public.

The guards behind Lin Feng also looked embarrassed, wanting to strike but daring not to cause a scene here.

"You… you're talking nonsense!" Lin Feng pointed at Zhang Jun, his finger trembling like a plucked pipa string.

"Whether it's nonsense, you know it yourself."

Zhang Jun put the glass back on the tray.

"The Lin family's reputation is earned by real skill, not by loudness."