Chapter 145: Talisman Light Blocks the Evil Altar's Appearance

Zhang Jun's eyes narrowed; he didn't retreat but advanced, his fist bursting with yang qi like a cannonball, smashing the black ropes one by one, making the air buzz. Lin Xue flicked her fingertips, producing crystal-clear ice spikes that sprang from nowhere, homing in on the weak points of the black-qi chains with a series of "crack-crack" sounds.

The two leaned against the secret door that Qin Clan experts were desperately operating, breathing somewhat ragged, yet they managed to temporarily block the infamous Zhou Qian, a long‑renowned heretical master, outside the door.

At this tense moment, when a single spark could set off an explosion!

"Screech—"

A deafening, teeth‑gritting roar of metal scraping stone burst from behind them, drowning out all combat sounds!

The secret door, covered in intricate runes and mechanisms, finally… slowly swung inward under the sweat‑drenched, finger‑cramping manipulation of the two Qin Clan experts.

Beyond the door was not a passage, not a room, but a expanse even deeper and purer, as if it could swallow all light and sound……absolute darkness!

The darkness beyond the door was black enough to suck in one's soul. A stench of rotting earth aged hundreds of years mixed with piercing cold blasted over them.

"Go!" Qin Yueyao whispered, her voice barely audible, and she was the first to slip inside, pressing against the door frame.

The two Qin Clan experts, like well‑trained hounds, flanked her and followed her in.

Zhang Jun didn't hesitate; he scooped up the dazed, boneless‑soft Lin Xue and rushed after her. As soon as half his body was inside, he heard behind him the stone chamber's muffled "thud‑thud" mixed with angry shouts.

"Boom—"

Before he could see what lay ahead, the secret door behind him slammed shut, the jolt shaking the very ground. It cut off their retreat completely and sealed off the fighting inside the stone chamber.

A narrow passage lay ahead, tighter than before—just enough for two to walk sideways. Underfoot was not soil or rock but a slick, bluish‑black stone that chilled the soles. The walls on either side felt equally slick and icy, covered thickly in inscrutable glyphs more twisted and sinister than those in the stone chamber, their strokes writhing like countless tangled worms frozen into the rock. Merely looking at them made Zhang Jun's temples throb and his chest feel suffocated.

The air felt as if filled with lead—heavy and hard to draw a breath.

The bronze piece in Zhang Jun's bosom burned hot, making him grimace; the heat seeped through his clothes into his flesh, buzzing like a tiny furnace.

Lin Xue, half‑dragged, half‑carried by him, trembled even more. The icy aura from the azure crystal in her pocket seeped out, turning her lips purple and making her teeth chatter; her eyes were vacant, and she muttered unconsciously, "…blood…jar…rune…" in a whisper as faint as a mosquito's hum.

The chaotic images in her mind exploded—black altar, bleeding trenches, twisted runes—mingling with the carvings on the walls before her, threatening to split her head apart.

"Stop!" Lin Xue jerked, her voice suddenly sharp and hollow, not her own, as she pointed with a raised hand to a barely perceptible bump on the left‑front wall, "Press…here…"

Qin Yueyao's steps halted abruptly; her sharp gaze swept over Lin Xue's ashen face, then she glanced warily behind. The stone door they had just closed began to throb with heavy "thud! thud!" impacts, each louder than the last—clearly the old madman Zhou Qian going berserk.

"Do as she says!" Qin Yueyao barked, without hesitation.

The nearest Qin Clan expert hesitated a beat, then stepped forward, found the spot, drew a deep breath, and pressed down hard.

"Hum—"

The whole passage shuddered; the bluish‑black stones underfoot trembled. The lifeless runes on the walls flared—not with blinding light but with a deep, eerie bluish‑black glow like the eyes of water‑ghosts in a dark pool. The light raced along the grooves, instantly linking into a complex pattern that made the head spin.

A surge of sealing force, stronger and more solid than before, burst with a "boom" and filled the passage. The frantic pounding on the door behind them sounded as if an invisible hand had clenched it, cutting off abruptly, leaving only a dull echo.

The faces of the Qin Clan members changed; looking at Lin Xue, their eyes held undisguised astonishment. "Who is this woman? How does she know the mechanisms of this sinister place as if it were her own backyard?"

Lin Xue seemed oblivious to the stares, her body still trembling uncontrollably, her gaze vacant, her trembling finger pointing to another spot on the right‑hand wall near the floor that looked no different from the rest: "There…also…turn…turn three circles…"

"Let me!" Zhang Jun declared, stepping forward before the Qin Clan could react. He found the spot and felt a small disc that could turn, nearly fused with the stone wall. He strained, but the disc wouldn't budge, as if welded in place. Cursing inwardly, he sank his qi into his dantian and heaved with all his strength.

With a grating "creak—" that set teeth on edge, the disc finally turned—one turn, two turns, three turns.

The passage shuddered again, less violently this time. The runic light on the walls flowed faster, the bluish‑black hue flashing with a fleeting hint of another color. The oppressive, breath‑stealing pressure, as if pierced, eased a little. The darkness ahead seemed to thin just enough to make out the passage's end.

"Move!" Zhang Jun snarled, grabbing Lin Xue tight, pushing off with his feet and leading the charge. Lingering even a second in this cursed place felt deadly.

Qin Yueyao's eyes flickered, then she immediately ushered the others forward, close behind. Everyone felt a heavy dread; the place exuded wickedness at every turn.

The passage wasn't long—just over a hundred meters—and a few strides brought them to its end. The view ahead suddenly opened up, wide and bright.

A vast, boundless underground chamber—several times larger than the abandoned factory outside—appeared before them without warning.

The ceiling soared impossibly high, lost in darkness; the surrounding stone walls were pitted and uneven, resembling a natural massive cavern that had never been worked.

And at the absolute center of this vast space stood a thing.

A huge, circular altar!

Piled from black‑shiny boulders that looked dead‑heavy, its surface was covered in dense grooves, each etched with runes more twisted and sinister than those in the passage. Many grooves held a layer of dark‑reddish‑black, long‑dried, paint‑like substance…blood! Dried blood!

A stench of blood so thick it could knock one unconscious, mingling with an icy, utterly vengeful aura, washed over them, threatening to make them vomit on the spot.