Chapter 142

The middle-aged man shook his head, showing no expression: "The young lady ordered it—today you must be summoned." The few men behind him stepped forward, not hurried nor slow, but their posture was an impregnable formation.

"Summon?" Zhang Jun pondered the word; today he probably couldn't get out of it unscathed.

Lin Xue's body shuddered violently.

Surrounded, forced……

In her mind, the figure on the altar being dragged upward with all its might, wailing heart-rendingly, overlapped instantly with the several expressionless faces before her.

A burst of icy cold she could not control exploded from within her soul with a boom!

Her Profound Yin internal force went completely out of control!

The violent cold surged forth like a burst ice river, rushing in all directions! The ground beneath her feet "crack-crack" instantly froze into a thick layer of white frost, the air so cold it could freeze a person into a lump of ice!

The two Qin family members nearest hadn't reacted at all; their faces instantly coated in white frost, they shrieked as they were frozen and kept stepping back. Looking toward Zhang Jun and Lin Xue, their eyes were filled with shock.

"Go!" Zhang Jun seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, scooping up the nearly unconscious Lin Xue, whose body emitted terrifying cold that even he found bone-chilling, and with a push of his feet he shot forward like a cannonball, bursting through the gap the Qin family had been forced open by the cold, and vanished in an instant into deeper darkness.

The middle-aged man watched the direction the two had disappeared, then lowered his gaze to the frost still spreading on the ground, his face turning ashen.

In the dilapidated residential building, a choking dust smell assailed them. Zhang Jun backhanded the paint‑peeled wooden door shut; the latch's fall rang especially loud in the silence. Lin Xue in his arms was limp as boneless, yet her body was bone‑chilling cold, like a piece of jade just scooped from an ice cellar. The uncontrolled Profound Yin internal force still not fully dissipated kept crashing inside her, and even a thin layer of white frost coated her skin, making one's heart tighten at the sight.

Zhang Jun gently laid her on the only relatively intact old sofa. Lin Xue's face was as white as paper, her lips turned bluish, and her body trembled uncontrollably. He dared not delay; he pressed his palm to her back, sending out pure Yang energy slowly and gently, like warm water seeping inward, hoping to contain the rampant cold and soothe it.

As soon as his fingers touched her, Zhang Jun felt the severity and purity of that cold, mixed with an indescribable chill and despair passed down from ages past. Lin Xue let out a muffled groan from her throat, brows furrowed tight, and she forced out broken words: "Jar… black stone… blood… flowing down… that mark… inside the jar…"

Zhang Jun kept his ears pricked, not daring to miss a word, quickly stringing together these fragments with what Liu San ye had said, the black jar shards on the ground, the runes in the stone chamber of White Pagoda Temple, the reaction of the hot copper piece in his pocket, and the crystal in Lin Xue's pouch. The clues wound around and finally twisted into a rope pointing to a place—the old residence of White Pagoda Temple, underground, a spot deeper and more sinister than the stone chamber they had previously entered.

This place surely hides a great secret, and also great danger.

Just then, "dong, dong, dong." came a knocking at the door, unhurried, each strike rhythmic. In the silent, ruined building, the sound felt like a direct blow to Zhang Jun's taut nerves, making the hairs on his back stand up.

His motion halted instantly, his hand still hovering lightly above Lin Xue's back, not daring to move; his whole body tensed in an instant, his eyes sharp as he stared at the creaking old wooden door. Whoever outside was keeping pace—damn fast. The Qin family? Zhou Qian? Or that old monster nobody knows how long he's lived?

"Mr. Zhang, Miss Lin, it's me, Qin Yueyao." A woman's voice came from outside the door, clear and cold, unusually calm—indeed the deep‑minded eldest daughter of the Qin family.

Zhang Jun didn't move, nor was he foolish enough to open the door; his voice sank, laced with undisguised mockery: "Miss Qin, you've been tailing us pretty closely. Is your Qin family bred like hunting dogs, with such a keen nose? Or were those who blocked us in the wilderness just scouts you sent out?" The question was blunt, practically tearing open a seam in their faces.

Outside the door fell silent for a moment, as if not expecting him to be so blunt. Qin Yueyao's voice sounded again, still unruffled, as if stating a settled fact: "Qian Zhou's people are also looking for you, and they've deployed more than one batch. As for the old master guarding White Pagoda Temple, you should have already learned—he can't be dealt with by brute force alone." She paused, her voice tinged with certainty: "Given your current condition, charging into White Pagoda Temple is hardly different from willingly thrusting your neck under a hatchet. The Qin family happens to know some secrets about the old Medicine Sect—for instance, that place has more than one entrance, and it's not just Qian Zhou's hungry wolf eyeing it. Perhaps we could talk."

Zhang Jun remained silent. What medicine is the Qin family selling in that gourd? Just now they sent people to trip us up, nearly getting us killed there, and now they come offering warmth and talk of cooperation? A weasel paying New Year's respects to a chicken—no good intentions. Yet what she said is also true: that gray‑robed old freak is terrifyingly strong, Qian Zhou is a lunatic, and there may be other forces lurking in the dark… He glanced back at the sofa where Lin Xue hung by a breath, her face deathly pale, and felt again the copper piece in his pocket still warm, pointing the way. Qin Yueyao is a poisonous snake, but for now it seems only by relying on this snake can we approach that deadly truth. Better to bargain with a tiger than be torn apart by a pack of wolves.

"Conditions?" He walked to the door, hand resting on the icy lock but not turning it, his voice cold and hard, transmitted through the thin door panel.

"Cooperation." Qin Yueyao replied just as bluntly: "Information sharing, manpower complement, joint action. What Qian Zhou is eyeing is probably far more than the rumored medicine cauldron; the secrets involved there run far deeper than either of us imagines. One more person, one more ounce of strength—at least it will muddy the waters further, making it easier for us to fish, right?"

Zhang Jun tapped his fingers on the lock, making a soft "tap-tap" sound. "Cooperation works." His tone flat, but he added: "However, we go by my rules. First, once inside, how we move and what we do—my call; your Qin people must obey. Second, after we succeed, whatever loot we gain and how we split it—we'll discuss it after we all get out whole, depending on my mood. Miss Qin, if you find these terms too harsh, you can turn back now with your people; we'll stay out of each other's way." He said this without giving the Qin eldest daughter any face, directly seizing the initiative for himself.