Chapter 216: A Glimmer of Hope

Zhang Jun's scalp went numb. "Damn, is this little lass a police dog? She can sniff me out and chase me here? Damn it, I accidentally got a bit of oil on me during the day, and at night I got blocked in my own cellar. What the hell is this? If word gets out, how am I supposed to mess around in the jianghu? It's more aggravating than last month's stock hitting the daily limit down repeatedly."

"Which rat dares not come out? If you don't show up, this young lady will set the well on fire!" Murong Wanqing's voice was crisp and cold, with a hint of impatient fire.

Burn the well? This lass is really daring!

Zhang Jun cursed inwardly, but he didn't dare be careless; now wasn't the time to clash head-on with this little pepper. He shifted his stance, gathered his breath, and like a gecko scaling a wall, with a few "whoosh" sounds he leapt up.

Just as he poked his head out, before he could steady himself, a fierce gust of wind came at him! Murong Wanqing, this lass, held a short sword flashing with cold light, her almond eyes wide open, without a word she thrust at Zhang Jun's face.

"Hey! I say, you lass, why are you like a firecracker, going off at the slightest spark!" Zhang Jun dodged sideways by a hair, laughing and crying, "Can't we talk things out nicely? All this fighting hurts harmony."

"Hmph, what's there to say with a sneak like you, plotting evil against my Murong Manor?" Murong Wanqing's sword moves came in an unbroken chain, each strike vicious, clearly truly angry, "Speak! Who sent you? Are you trying to steal our Murong family's Azure Pouch Secret Record?"

"Azure Pouch Secret Record? What the hell is that?" Zhang Jun had never even heard of it. He could tell this lass was as stubborn as a turtle swallowing a weight—she'd made up her mind he was a bad guy. Explaining? That'd be like playing music to a cow.

"Miss, you really got it wrong! I… uh… got lost and fell down by accident!" Zhang Jun dodged awkwardly while spouting nonsense. He couldn't very well say he'd come specially to dig up someone's ancestral grave after reading a torn map, could he? That would be suicide.

"Lost? I think you were feeling your way and ended up in the Murong family's forbidden grounds!" Murong Wanqing didn't believe it at all; her sword moves grew faster, the blade carrying a faint chill, clearly her internal force was not weak.

Zhang Jun felt utterly stifled. "Damn it, I'm supposed to be a master, yet I'm being chased and beaten by a little girl—where would I put my face if this got out?" He wanted to teach this ignorant brat a lesson, but then he recalled that embarrassing incident from earlier; if he accidentally touched her again… cough, that misunderstanding would be deeper than the Mariana Trench.

"I've had enough of you!" Zhang Jun's patience ran out; seeing Murong Wanqing thrust her sword straight at his lower abdomen dantian, which would be disastrous if it hit, he stopped holding back. He shifted his footwork in the Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams Step, his form approaching like a ghost, his right index and middle fingers pressed together, fast as lightning, precisely clamping onto Murong Wanqing's bright sword blade.

"Clang!"

A soft sound.

Murong Wanqing felt her wrist go numb; the sword could not advance even a fraction, as if clamped by iron pliers. She was shocked—this guy… he actually snatched a blade barehanded? No, it's even more sinister than that! How did he do it? His skill might surpass even the elders who serve in the manor by a bit!

She tried to draw the sword, but it wouldn't budge.

Zhang Jun's other hand followed the motion, pulling and locking; Murong Wanqing felt her wrist tighten, her whole body spun around by a clever force, the short sword clanged to the ground, and Zhang Jun twisted her arms behind her back, pressing her against the cold well wall.

"You submit?" Zhang Jun lowered his voice, tinged with teasing. He had to admit, this lass had a fine figure; even through her clothes he could feel that youthful elasticity… and… pfft! What am I thinking!

Murong Wanqing was both ashamed and angry, her pretty face flushed crimson as she bit her lips hard, refusing to make a sound. She had never suffered such utter humiliation in her life.

Just then—

"Ugh—"

A moan, suppressed to the extreme yet filled with boundless pain, drifted up from the depths of the cellar. Immediately after came the grating clatter of chains shaking "clatter-clatter".

Zhang Jun froze.

Murong Wanqing's face paled dramatically; her earlier stubbornness and anger instantly gave way to panic and worry. She forgot to contend with Zhang Jun and cried out, "Oh no! Grandfather's poison… is acting up again!"

She gave a violent tug; Zhang Jun instinctively loosened his grip. Murong Wanqing didn't even bother to pick up the fallen sword, stumbling down the dark passage beneath the well, her voice trembling: "Grandfather! Grandfather, how are you?"

Grandfather?

Zhang Jun's head buzzed. The old man down in the well, tortured beyond human shape and afflicted with the Soul-Locking Lure, was actually this little firecracker's grandfather? What the hell is going on! What's up with the Murong family? Could it be that they're tearing themselves apart from within, and doing it to such an insane extent?

Seeing Murong Wanqing's extreme anxiety, her occasional feeble pretense, Zhang Jun's little fire of anger also died. A healer's benevolent heart—though this lass was a bit rash, her concern for her own kin was genuine. He hesitated a moment; the affairs of this dungeon weren't really for an outsider like him to meddle in, but the viciousness of the Soul-Locking Lure, plus that faint sense of familiarity from the old man, left him unable to set his mind at ease.

Damn it, dragon pool or tiger den, I'll go in and have a look first!

Zhang Jun took a deep breath, then followed suit and jumped down the well, hurrying along the passage after her.

Inside the stone chamber, the sight was grim.

The old man chained in iron was now convulsing violently, his emaciated body trembling like a withered leaf in the wind. From his throat came a hoarse "huh-huh" sound; from his seven orifices slowly oozed dark, foul-smelling blood, his already sallow skin now overlaid with a layer of deathly gray. The sight of his anguish made one's heart clench.

"Grandfather! Grandfather, hang on!" Murong Wanqing lunged to the old man's side, tears pouring down like broken beads. She wanted to help him up, but feared touching his wounds, so she could only helplessly cry at his side. Though she was versed in medicine and had studied poison arts, facing the bizarre, domineering Soul-Locking Lure, her meager skill was like a drop in the bucket—she couldn't even scratch the surface. All she could do was watch helplessly as her grandfather endured this inhuman torment, powerless, a feeling of helplessness that nearly drove her mad.

Zhang Jun also frowned tightly. The outbreak of the Soul-Locking Lure was a hundred times more perilous than recorded in ancient texts! If this continued, even if the old man had heavenly abilities, he wouldn't last the time it takes to burn an incense stick. At that point, both spirit and soul would be annihilated, with no chance of reincarnation left!

Damn it, save them to the end, see the Buddha to the west!

"Move aside! Let me give it a try!" Zhang Jun shouted in a low voice, not caring to conceal his hidden skill now, "Perhaps there's still a glimmer of hope!"