Chapter 122: The Union of Yin and Yang

This time it wasn't a cautious probe, it was a matter of life and death—the body just did it like that!

Zhang Jun felt a pure and tenacious cold current rush in from behind, instantly entwining with his pure Yang Qi and merging!

That explosive punch force suddenly gained an extremely penetrating yin-yielding quality; its power didn't diminish but grew fiercer and harder to defend against!

Lin Xue also felt a scorching, domineering warm current pour in along her spine; her Profound Yin cold energy seemed to come alive, the trajectory of the flying ice needles grew more devious, and the cold became even more piercing!

Bang!

Zhang Jun's fist slammed hard into Lin Hai's short blade!

Lin Hai felt a wild and cold strange force surge along the short blade, shaking his arm numb, his tiger's mouth about to split, unable to stand, he stumbled back several steps, his face full of a shocked expression!

How is this kid's inner force so strange? It's far stronger than before—by more than a notch!

On the other side, the several assassins rushing toward Lin Xue fared even worse.

Before the blades could even reach her, they were thrown into chaos by a sky-full of flying ice needles.

The ice needles looked thin, but the cold on them was terrifying—just a touch slowed one's movements by half a beat, leaving them stiff.

Two unlucky souls couldn't dodge; ice needles pierced their eyes and throats, they couldn't even cry out before a layer of white frost instantly covered their bodies, and they collapsed dead stiff.

One was hard and fierce, one was soft and yin, one was Yang, one was Yin.

Back-to-back, they looked like a simple coordination, but the combat power they unleashed was far more than just one plus one!

The mingled yin-yang aura spread out, and the Lin family assassins rushing in felt a sense of oppression and discomfort from deep within their bones!

Lin Hai steadied himself, seeing several of his men die in an instant, then looked at Zhang Jun and Lin Xue standing back-to-back, their momentum still rising, and shock and disbelief flashed in his eyes.

The intel was wrong! These two's strength, especially their combined strength, far exceeded expectations!

That strange aura of mingled yin and yang made his scalp crawl!

"Retreat!" Lin Hai made up his mind instantly and let out a low roar.

If they kept fighting, not to mention completing the mission, they'd probably all end up laid out here!

The remaining assassins, as if pardoned, immediately ceased fighting, shielded Lin Hai, and retreated toward the broken door and window like a receding tide—still moving swiftly, they vanished in a blink into the dark hallway and night.

In the room, only a mess remained, plus several corpses covered in white frost, their deathly appearance gruesome.

Zhang Jun and Lin Xue slowly separated, their backs parting, and that strange feeling of merged inner force also broke.

Both of their breathing was a little ragged; looking at the corpses on the floor and the shattered doors and windows, their faces showed little expression.

"The Lin family, quite eager." Zhang Jun flexed his wrist; having taken Lin Hai's blow head‑on, his qi and blood were a bit tumultuous.

In the hotel room, the air was sticky and suffocating, the smell of blood mingling with the stench of decay from the corpses, making one's chest feel oppressive.

Zhang Jun crouched, placed his fingers on Lin Hai's neck to check—it was already cold and stiff.

He pulled open the assassin's collar, leaned in and sniffed—a strange medicinal odor shot straight up his nose.

It wasn't any ordinary trauma medicine sold on the market; it had a faint burnt‑herb smell, plus a mineral astringency, as if it were the base of some secret drug steeped for years.

Clean‑handed, unafraid of death—whatever the Lin family keeps.

Lin Xue walked to the window, stepping on shards of glass that creaked underfoot.

She bent over, pinched out a metal fragment smaller than a grain of rice from an inconspicuous crack in the window frame.

The fragment's edge was sharp, etched with a half‑drawn, twisted symbol resembling ghostly writing—unclear what it is.

Hard to say whether it's gold or iron; it felt cool to the touch, exuding a hint of yin energy.

She walked back to Zhang Jun's side, palm open.

Zhang Jun turned the fragment over with his fingertips, sending a touch of pure Yang Qi into it.

"Sizzle—"

The reaction was slight, but the yin‑cold energy definitely trembled when struck by the pure Yang Qi.

It followed the same line as the yin‑cold cultivation Zhou Qian possessed.

"Zhou Qian's people are also lurking nearby," Zhang Jun said in a low voice, putting the fragment away.

The Lin family went in for the kill, while the Zhou family watched from the sidelines, perhaps hoping to profit from the chaos.

Was this fragment deliberately left behind? To provoke trouble? Or to feel things out?

"Just now…" Lin Xue spoke, the tremor in her voice impossible to hide, "Our inner forces merged, the power was greater than I thought—but…"

She didn't go on; Zhang Jun understood.

Just then, at a life‑or‑death moment, their powers mixed on their own and erupted in a frightening way.

But upon reflection, that force was actually uncontrollable—like two raging rivers forced into a narrow channel, the banks could give way at any moment.

Their arts could complement each other, but they lacked the crucial method of harmonization.

"Medicine Sect…" Zhang Jun unconsciously glanced toward the direction of the bronze cauldron in the Qin family courtyard; the cauldron wasn't here, but the feeling of being pulled remained.

"We need to know more."

He recalled the data Su Muqing had given earlier, remembered Lin Xue's odd reaction when she saw the words "White Pagoda Temple East Alley," and thought of Liu San Ye, whose body had been gnawed by yin‑cold evil energy until he resembled a living corpse.

That was definitely no ordinary illness; it seemed more like he'd been cursed with some dark art, or contaminated by impurity from an unclean place.

"White Pagoda Temple East Alley," Zhang Jun looked at Lin Xue, "Your reaction last time you saw that name was off. Let's go check it out."

Lin Xue didn't speak, just nodded.

The taxi pulled up at the hutong entrance.

White Pagoda Temple East Alley looked like an ordinary old hutong in the capital.

Gray walls, gray tiles, the ground pitted and uneven.

The afternoon sun lazily shone down, with a stray cat tucking its paws and dozing at the base of the wall.

But as soon as he stepped into the alley, the pure Yang energy in Zhang Jun's body sank, and the air seemed to carry a thin, sticky layer that got in the way.

Lin Xue's surrounding chill also drew inward, and her internal Profound Yin inner force sensed something off.

This place had a faint but ancient energy field, yin and yang mingled and diffused, with no definite form.

The two walked side by side inward, taking exceptionally slow steps.

As they went deeper into the hutong, that strange feeling grew clearer.

Most of the courtyard doors on either side were shut; occasionally one stood open, but no one could be seen—only the wind rustling the leaves of the old locust trees, shushing.

Upon reaching the middle of the hutong, before an inconspicuous vermilion-painted small courtyard gate, Lin Xue's feet suddenly rooted to the spot.

She stared at that mottled courtyard door; there was no plaque on it, just two characters carved into the lintel, long worn away until illegible.

Her body went stiff for a moment.

Some fragmented, chaotic light-and-shadow images just drilled into her mind—

A child wailed heart-rendingly, a warm hand stroked her, and… an indescribable fear and cold, cold to the bone.