Chapter 212: First Arrival in Yanjing

The Inspector's skill is high, but in that chaotic medicinal formation, he was like a drunk, staggering left and right, able to exert only seventy to eighty percent of his ability. Adding to that, Zhang Jun led the main attack while Tie Shan and the others harassed from the sides, and for a moment they were scrambling.

"Pfft!"

The Inspector, off‑guard, was struck on the shoulder by Zhang Jun's palm blade imbued with pure yang qi, making him grit his teeth and stumble.

The old geezer knew he couldn't win today; if they kept fighting he'd surely lose his life here. A flash of spite crossed his eyes, and he fiercely pulled a dark, mysterious object from his bosom and flung it into the sky.

"Whoosh—bang!"

The thing exploded in mid‑air, forming… a black swallow pattern with wings spread as if about to fly!

"Wait for me, you bastard!" the Inspector feinted a move, driving Zhang Jun back, and while everyone's attention was drawn by the signal flare, he slipped away, oiling his soles, running off faster than a rabbit.

Seeing the black swallow pattern, Tie Shan's face went white and he blurted, "It… it's the Murong family's emergency distress signal! This Inspector… is he from the Shadow, or from the Murong family? Or… damn it, even the Murong family's internal affairs have gone awry?"

The Inspector fled like a scared dog with its tail between its legs, leaving a mess across the hills and a crowd of dazed survivors staring at each other.

Zhang Jun wiped the sweat and blood from his face, looking at the ruined Wan Yao Gu, his feelings a tangled mix.

This damned place almost took his life, but it also turned out to be a blessing in disguise—his cultivation kept rising bit by bit.

Most importantly, he rescued Lin Xue and those poor medicine slaves.

"First… let's get out of here first," Zhang Jun panted. His wound looked fearsome, but nourished by pure yang qi it had already begun to heal quickly.

But his strength wouldn't fully return in a short time.

Lin Xue hurried over to support him, her little face deathly pale, yet her eyes shone astonishingly bright.

"The miasma in the valley seems to be dissipating." She pointed to the distance; the originally thick, ink‑like haze had grown noticeably thinner, and even a few long‑absent rays of sunlight trembled through the clouds, falling on this battered land.

Strange—could it be that the Stabilizer's explosion actually revived the earth's veins?

This feeling was like the time I snagged what I thought was a bronze figurine at a second‑hand market, only to scrape off the paint and find a king‑level figure—it just felt weirdly sinister.

Tie Shan, dragging an injured leg, grimaced as he directed the few medicine slaves who could still move, helping each other limp out of the valley with uneven steps.

This old guy is truly a man—though he's about to fall apart himself, he still looks out for others.

Having left Wan Yao Gu, Liu Quan and Mo Xinghai's people were already waiting outside to receive them.

Those two old foxes are surprisingly well‑informed.

The medicine slaves were secretly placed in a concealed estate owned by the Liu Family, with food and drink, plus disciples sent by Mo Xinghai to help nurse their bodies back to health.

Tie Shan stubbornly refused to stay idle; even though his injury wasn't fully healed, he insisted on waiting on Zhang Jun hand and foot, acting like his ox and horse.

Zhang Jun laughed and cried at once—this wasn't hiring an assistant, it was like inviting an ancestor to serve him.

Still, Tie Shan is a man of righteousness, his martial foundation is solid, and he's someone useful.

Not two days later, Liu Qingxue arrived, dust‑covered and weary.

As soon as she entered, seeing that Zhang Jun's face was still a bit pale but his spirits were good, the heart she had been holding in her throat finally went "thud" back into her stomach.

Her eyes reddened, and she almost burst into tears right there.

"You… you're all right, that's all that matters." Ten thousand words boiled down to this single sentence.

Some feelings, after going through life and death, become different—stickier than instant adhesive.

This time Liu Qingxue also brought a lot of intelligence about the Shadow organization's Jiangbei holdings, showing that she truly treats Zhang Jun's affairs as her own.

"Yanjing, I must go there." Zhang Jun looked at the tattered banner seized from the Inspector's unit, bearing a black swallow pattern, his eyes resolute.

The Murong family's signal, the Inspector's uncanny identity, and whatever "special medicinal herbs" the disabled captives mentioned—everything ties back to the Murong family of Yanjing.

Besides, he kept thinking that whatever Murong Wanqing—her name sounded familiar—couldn't it be… well, a fated encounter?

Pah pah pah! What nonsense!

The main goal is to investigate the Shadow organization—yes, investigate!

"Yanjing?" Tie Shan heard those two words, and a flash of light crossed his murky eyes: "My master back then… when he was investigating the Shadow organization, he seemed to have uncovered some leads pointing to Yanjing."

He paused, lowering his voice further: "It… it seems related to some extremely sinister life‑prolonging evil technique. Back then I already felt something was off—how could upright martial sects get involved with such low‑class trash? Now I think the waters run deep."

Life‑prolonging evil technique?

Zhang Jun's heart stirred—could his master's disappearance years ago also be tied to this?

The thought sprang up like a cat's claw scratching his heart, maddeningly itchy.

"Sister Liu, you'll still need to handle things in Yanjing," Zhang Jun said, looking at Liu Qingxue.

When Liu Qingxue handles things, she's meticulous—nothing leaks.

In just a few days, Zhang Jun and Lin Xue had their false identities, lodging, and even several backup safe‑house routes all set up in Yanjing.

Mo Xinghai the old man wasn't idle either, calling in a few old friends from Yanjing's medical circles, saying that if they had any difficult ailments, they should just speak up.

That network is top‑notch.

Zhang Jun, Lin Xue, Tie Shan, plus the few Black Tiger Hall medicine slaves who had escaped death and recovered fairly well—this ragtag bunch, though battered, possessed combat strength not to be underestimated, was thrown together in a haphazard way.

As Tie Shan would say, this is a "ramshackle troupe that treats dissent."

On the eve of departure, Zhang Jun locked himself in his room and tinkered away half the night.

The next day, he summoned Tie Shan and those Black Tiger Hall brothers, producing a few thin booklets.

"These are a few basic heart methods distilled from the Pure Yang Unbounded Skill; though they can't match the original's profundity, they're more than enough for strengthening the body and boosting a bit of self‑defense." Zhang Jun said, "You all have solid foundations—don't waste them."

He was basically building his own cadre!

These days, heading out without a few reliable brothers is about as useful as going into battle naked.

Just as they finished packing their bags, preparing to set out at dawn the next day, a mysterious figure clad in night‑black garb, small and monkey‑like, silently appeared on the manor's outer wall.

He didn't alarm anyone; he simply left an unsigned letter on the windowsill of Zhang Jun's room.