Chapter 131: Night Exploration of the Old Hutong Courtyard

The night was thick, impossible to disperse.

In the hotel room, the thick curtains blocked the light, leaving only a small patch on the floor.

Qin Yueyao's document bag lay open on the table, the words on the paper glaring in the dimness.

"East Lane of White Pagoda Temple… Medicine Sect outpost…" Zhang Jun tapped his fingers on the table, his voice muffled.

The Qin family sent over a bait, complete with a hook.

He stood, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain open a slit.

Outside was the capital's night, lights blazing, yet some places hidden in the shadows could not be reached by light.

Lin Xue said nothing, standing beside him. The cold aura about her was heavier than the night outside. She gazed in a direction outside the window—there lay White Pagoda Temple.

"Let's go." Zhang Jun lowered the curtain.

"Mm." Lin Xue replied.

They packed nothing, changed into dark clothes, moved swiftly like two shadows, and left the hotel without alerting anyone.

The Qin family's operatives, placed both openly and secretly, were silently bypassed by the two, whose movement far surpassed ordinary people and whose sense of qi was keen.

Upon stepping again into the East Lane of White Pagoda Temple, it was already past midnight.

The daytime languor was gone; the whole lane lay dead silent. The moon's pallid light stretched the gray walls' shadows long and crooked.

In the lane at night, the air was thick, impossible to disperse. The mingled yin-yang stench grew stronger, seeping into the nostrils and lodging in the chest.

The target was the small courtyard in the lane's middle, bearing no sign.

The two walked like cats, hugging the wall base, making no sound at all.

Soon the peeled red door came into view; the two blurred characters on its lintel looked even more eerie in the moonlight.

The courtyard wall was low, unable to stop them.

Zhang Jun vaulted in first, landing soundlessly. Lin Xue followed, her body light as air, almost weightless.

Weeds grew tall in the courtyard, nearly knee-high, with dry branches and rotting leaves piled everywhere, emitting a rotting-wood smell that stabbed the nose.

The main house's doors and windows were broken, hanging askew, dark and frightening.

The air was full of earthy stench, plus a cold, damp odor from moldy old wood.

Yet the remaining carvings on the eaves' pillars and the shattered pottery underfoot showed this place had once been no ordinary home.

"Creak—"

A soft sound, in this dead‑silent courtyard, was especially clear.

At the moon gate linking the rear to the front courtyard, the gray‑robed old man seen by day again held his broken broom, slowly sweeping a few leaves on the ground.

His movements remained just as slow, his waist bent nearly to the ground, as if nothing happening outside concerned him.

Zhang Jun's pure yang qi sank inward.

This old man, something's off.

He looked withered and thin, yet the aura hidden within him was deeper and heavier than by day, like a dry well with no bottom.

He took a few steps forward, stopping beside the old man. "Elder, why are you sweeping at this hour?"

The old man didn't pause; his broom scraped the ground, making a "shush‑shush" sound.

He slowly lifted his head; his cloudy eyes stared at Zhang Jun, empty and unfocused.

"Dirty……must sweep……" he spoke, voice muffled as if something stuck in his throat, "Only clean……will it be good……"

Lin Xue also came over, standing beside Zhang Jun, gathering her chill inward as she sized up the old man.

Zhang Jun asked again: "This courtyard isn't young, is it? What was it used for before?"

The old man lowered his head, kept sweeping, and muttered: "Forgot……I forgot……old thing, can't remember……"

He ignored the two, hunched, shuffling step by step toward the rear courtyard's depths, his broom dragging a long trail on the ground.

Zhang Jun and Lin Xue exchanged a glance and did not follow.

It's hard to tell whether the old man is truly muddled or merely pretending.

The two paid him no more heed and turned toward the rear courtyard.

The rear courtyard was even more dilapidated than the front, its corners piled with broken jars and rotting wood.

Lin Xue walked to a corner by the east wall and stopped.

Her body tensed slightly; her profound yin internal force stirred on its own. She sensed a very subtle yet pure chill yin qi deep beneath this spot, unlike the chaotic yin elsewhere, carrying the scent of something sealed for ages.

"Here." She pointed to a grass‑covered patch beneath her feet.

Zhang Jun crouched, pulled aside the grass. Beneath lay a blue‑stone slab, looking no different from its surroundings. He pressed on it—it was dead heavy and would not budge.

Lin Xue also crouched, placing her fingers on the slab's edge. She closed her eyes, letting her profound yin internal force seep from her fingertips into the stone's seam.

After a moment, she moved her fingers, using a special rhythm and pressure to press lightly several times on a few inconspicuous depressions at the slab's edge.

"Click."

A faint mechanical click rose from below.

The blue‑stone slab slowly slid aside, revealing a dark square opening. A cold wind mixed with earthy stench and a denser yin chill burst from the hole with a "whoosh."

The entrance was found.

The two hesitated no more, jumping one after the other into the opening.

Below was a steep, narrow stone stairway, allowing only one person at a time. The steps descended into pitch‑black darkness where nothing could be seen.

Inside the passage, the walls were built of large blue stone blocks, joints tightly fitted, covered in slick green moss.

The air was cold and damp; footsteps on the stone stairs echoed in the narrow space, hollow and chilling.

The passage wound and twisted; after about the time of a meal, a heavy stone door appeared ahead.

The stone door was shut tight, its surface overgrown with moss. In its center were carved ancient patterns, thick‑lined, exuding an indescribable sense of desolation.

Zhang Jun pushed; the stone door remained immovable.

Lin Xue stepped forward, again circulating the Profound Yin internal force, her fingers probing the patterns on the door.

When her fingertip touched a pattern at the center of the decoration that resembled a vortex, a muffled "creak" came from inside the stone door, and it slowly opened inward.

Behind the door was a small stone chamber.

The furnishings inside were as simple as could be. In the middle stood a thick stone table; beside it were scattered a few identical stone chairs. In a corner was a stone stand about half a person's height, on which sat a bronze incense burner covered in green patina, its interior filled with cold ash.

On all four walls of the stone chamber, from top to bottom, were carved dense runes.

These runes were far more complex than those on Zhang Jun's copper plate, and also much more orderly; the strokes were connected, numerous and winding, exuding an aura that was both ancient and obscure.

Lin Xue's body stiffened suddenly, her fingertips turning icy cold.

These runes… she felt both unfamiliar and strangely familiar, as if she had seen them somewhere before, a familiarity that rose from her bones. Forgotten images, like shards of glass, flashed in her mind with a buzz— a hand in gray robes, the cold stone wall, and a suppressed sob…