Chapter 139: Black Altar Primer Shatters the Killing Machine

The air reeked of rust and completely rotted chemical agents that had fermented into a sickly sweet stench, shooting up the nostrils, clinging to the throat, heavy and thick, almost enough to make a person choke. The abandoned chemical plant area was like a steel monster dead for who knows how many years; its skeleton, under the pallid moonlight, stretched out twisted, grotesque black shadows. The deathly silence here differed from the gloomy, still‑living‑air vibe of the White Pagoda Temple hutong; it was a total emptiness, as if even bone dust had been sucked dry, icy cold, making a chill rise from the core of one's being.

Zhang Jun's bronze piece in his pocket burned fiercely; even through his clothes he felt the flesh there about to cook, steadily pointing toward the deepest spot in the factory area. Lin Xue's hand in her pocket clenched the azure crystal, which kept pulsing faintly, as if it had a heartbeat, no longer the icy resistance it had before, and it pointed at the same place as the bronze piece. Neither spoke; they lowered their bodies, pressed against a half‑broken brick wall, made no sound with their feet, like two most alert wildcats, sneaking toward the source of that guidance.

The deeper they went, the fainter the rotten‑iron and chemical‑medicine smell became, replaced instead by a faint, lingering fishy odor that clung to the air, mixed with an almost imperceptible yin chill. They went around a half‑collapsed, pitch‑black boiler house, ahead of which appeared the frame of a workshop that still looked fairly intact. Inside the workshop it was empty; on the cement floor could be seen several crooked black lines, as if something had been forced to draw them, forming a half‑drawn strange sigil. The cement beside the lines was noticeably darker, blackish, as if burned by some strong acid or alkali. The faint fishy smell and yin chill in the air came from that half‑drawn sigil.

This damned place—someone's dabbling in evil heresy!

Just as that thought flashed through Zhang Jun's mind, three black shadows shot out from the deepest darkness of the workshop! They moved faster than a human, with a sharp whoosh, giving no warning, lunging straight at the two's faces. The one in front clutched something; a cold light flashed—it was a short dagger, its blade glowing an eerie blue‑purple, obviously laced with deadly poison.

Zhou Family people! They actually dug a pit here and waited!

Zhang Jun reacted terrifyingly fast—he stomped the ground, planting himself like a nail, and the pure yang energy in his dantian exploded with a boom! A rolling heat wave, hot enough to singe hair, surged forward, slamming into the three black shadows charging at them. The dagger‑wielder in the lead was hit head‑on by that fierce heat wave; his movements visibly stiffened, slowing for the blink of an eye.

Just then Lin Xue moved! She became like a weightless shadow, gliding along the ground. The profound yin cold in her body instantly twisted into a rope, turning into an almost visible ice‑blue current that deftly went around Zhang Jun and precisely wrapped the ankles and calves of the other two attackers. Their feet instantly gave a 'crack!' as a layer of grim white frost formed, their legs immediately becoming clumsy, their speed dropping sharply.

Zhang Jun seized this rare opening, lunged forward, and barely dodged the poisoned dagger by turning sideways. Seeing his chance, he landed a solid cannon fist squarely on the leader's chest. The pure yang power penetrated his clothing; the man let out a short, shrill scream, his chest visibly caving in, and he flew backward like a torn sack, crashing with a 'clang' onto the rusted‑to‑pieces iron frame nearby and sliding down motionless.

Lin Xue wasn't idle either. The two men whose feet were frozen by the cold were scrambling to break free when she flitted about like a ghost, already behind one of them. Her slender palm, chilled enough to freeze bone marrow, lightly tapped the man's back. His body jerked stiff, his expression froze instantly, his blood seeming to turn to ice, and he toppled forward, hitting the ground hard and lifeless. The last man, seeing his companions drop in the blink of an eye, lost his nerve, let out a strange cry, and tried to run into the shadows—but Zhang Jun wouldn't let him escape. He stepped forward, appearing to teleport, cut off his retreat, and clamped his huge palm over the man's crown, sending a surge of pure yang inner strength from his palm.

The man convulsed violently like chaff in a sieve, his eyes nearly popping out, then his body went limp and he collapsed like a puddle of mud, exhaling his last breath with no inhale left.

Zhang Jing ignored the two already dead, quickly walked up to the one still breathing, crouched, and tapped his fingers rapidly on several major acupoints on the man's body. Those strikes were precise and fierce; the sharp pain instantly roused him from his half‑conscious state. "Speak! What are you sneaking around here doing? What did Zhou Qian send you to find?"

The man clenched his teeth till his jaw ached, veins bulging on his neck, his eyes full of hatred as he glared at Zhang Jun, refusing to speak. Zhang Jun pressed his fingers a little harder, and a thread of scorching pure yang energy drilled into the man's meridians through the acupoint—it felt like thrusting a red‑hot iron awl into him. "Speak!"

Under the heart‑piercing, bone‑racking agony, he finally couldn't endure it; his facial muscles twisted, his whole body trembled, his voice broke and sputtered from between his teeth: "Look…look…for the primer…fix…fix the position…that old…old thing…hidden…"

A primer? Liu San Ye had mentioned that term! Zhang Jun's heart leapt; his gaze swept the surroundings in a flash and landed on a pile of rusted scrap in the corner. There lay several blackish pottery shards, irregularly broken. He brushed away the debris, picked up a few larger pieces. The pottery felt coarse, clearly nothing good; its inner walls were stained with blackish grime. Bringing it close to his nose, he detected an extremely faint but unmistakable evil aura—exactly the same as the one expelled earlier from Liu San Ye.

Sure enough, it was that black jar! The Zhou Family used it as a primer—what were they trying to find? And who was that 'old thing'?

"What exactly is the primer? Who is that old thing? What did it hide?" Zhang Jun pressed his fingers harder again, continuing the interrogation.

At that very moment, a thick black vapor surged over the captive's face like spilled ink, his eyes bulging out instantly, his mouth flung open, and from his throat came an unintelligible "ge‑ge" sound. A foul‑smelling black smoke erupted violently from his mouth, nose, and ears.