Chapter 86: Returned

"Get out of the way!" Zhang Jun shouted, using all his strength to thrust Lin Xue sharply behind a fairly solid stone pillar to the side.

At the same time, the hot current inside his body began to move on its own; this time he wasn't being hit passively, he was actively controlling it!

A scorching force surged into his fist; he twisted his waist and hips, using the most basic boxing stance, yet delivering power and speed he had never dared imagine, blasting straight at the black‑clad man at the front.

Bang!

A muffled thud.

The black‑clad man clearly hadn't taken Zhang Jun seriously, nor expected such quick reaction and fierce force; he hastily raised a hand to block, only to be shaken back two steps, his arm going numb.

An incredulous expression flashed across his face.

"Cultivation disciple?" Zhang Jun's heart lurched. These people moved swiftly, their aura steady, certainly not ordinary thugs. People of Lin Zhen? Damn, they're chasing too fast!

More black‑clad men closed in, coordinating flawlessly, each move targeting vital points—both cunning and ruthless.

Zhang Jun flung his fists outward, heat radiating, each punch bearing searing force, forcing the others to avoid direct clashes.

His speed and strength were a huge leap from before; for a moment, relying on raw power, he knocked several well‑trained cultivation disciples into a flustered scramble.

"Help... me..." Lin Xue leaned against the pillar, straining to mobilize the last of her internal force; her fingertips barely formed a few cold star sparks, which she shot at a guy sneaking behind Zhang Jun to ambush.

But she was too badly wounded, her internal energy sluggish; the cold stars moved sluggishly and weakly, and the man easily sidestepped them.

This not only failed to help, but by diverting her spirit, another enemy spotted the gap and a palm struck toward her shoulder.

Zhang Jun sensed something wrong with Lin Xue, hurriedly turned to rescue; his fist wind swept away the palm aimed at Lin Xue, but he himself left his own guard wide open.

A clearly more skilled opponent seized the chance, lunged forward, and a claw strike imbued with chilling force lunged at his chest.

Zhang Jun hurriedly raised his arm to block, feeling a bone‑piercing cold rush up his arm, causing his qi and blood to churn.

Their coordination was nonexistent; Lin Xue was nearly completely incapacitated, and no matter how fierce Zhang Jun was, he couldn't hold off the numbers.

After a few exchanges, the two were pressed tightly into a small corner, on the verge of collapsing.

At that deadly moment, the situation changed again!

Several faster shadows, as if leapt straight from the glacier's summit, appeared; their attire was a completely different style, exuding a primal wildness, the clothing mainly gray‑white, matching the surrounding ice and snow.

This group said nothing, and as soon as they showed up, they attacked directly, targeting the black‑clad men with ruthless, decisive strikes.

The newcomers seemed even stronger, their techniques expansive, bearing the reckless ferocity of mountain folk.

As soon as they mixed in, they immediately threw the black‑clad formation into chaos.

The leading black‑clad man, seeing the situation turn, exchanged a glance with his companion, feigned a move without hesitation, turned and retreated toward the stone steps they came from, disappearing into the wind and snow after a few steps.

The newcomers didn't pursue; they stopped in place, loosely forming a half‑circle, watching the disheveled Zhang Jun and Lin Xue.

Leading them was a cold‑hard‑faced middle‑aged man with high cheekbones, wearing a gray‑white fur vest, leisurely twirling an oddly shaped bone short‑blade in his hand.

He first scanned Zhang Jun from head to toe, then glanced at the weak Lin Xue leaning against the pillar, and spoke in a low, husky voice bearing the distinctive tone of a mountain dweller.

"Outsider."

"Crossed the line."

Zhang Jun shielded Lin Xue behind him, his internal heat silently on guard, staring at the opponent.

"Thanks for stepping in. We didn't mean to; we got lost and stumbled here."

The middle‑aged man hummed, neither confirming nor denying.

His gaze lingered on Zhang Jun for a few seconds before shifting back to Lin Xue.

"Pure Yang body, Profound Yin body… hey, rare specimens. That old Lin Zhen, his hand sure reaches far."

He paused briefly, and the bone blade in his hand spun faster, its edge flashing with a cold, shivering light.

"We'll take you down the mountain, fine."

"But the matters here, you must hand over to my rotten gut."

"Later, maybe we'll ask you to 'do a favor'."

He deliberately emphasized the last three words.

"When that time comes, don't say no to me."

Zhang Jun remained silent.

These terms are no different from a slave contract, just a damn blank one.

But in the current situation, do Zhang Jun and Lin Xue have any choice?

First, survive.

Surviving is the only way to untangle this mess and have a chance to go back and settle the scores with Lin Yan and Lin Zhen, those two bastards.

He glanced sideways at Lin Xue; her face was eerily pale, and she simply shook her head, kicking the ball back to him.

"Alright," Zhang Jun replied, "We agree."

"Remember what you said," the middle‑aged man said, sheathing the bone blade at his waist and gesturing behind him.

Immediately, two mountain folk dressed in the same gray‑white fur came over, deftly pulling two thick woolen cloaks from their bulging packs and tossing them to Zhang Jun.

The road down the mountain was countless times faster and far more perilous than the slog they had endured to climb up.

These mountain folk seemed born on the snow‑capped peaks; beneath their feet were bottomless icy fissures, the cold biting straight to the bone, yet they walked as if on flat ground, not even breathing heavily.

Zhang Jun carried the soft Lin Xue on his back, stumbling along behind, sustained solely by the heat within his body.

He had no idea how many mountains they crossed or how many bends they took; the wind and snow lessened, and the deadly chill in the air thinned.

In the distant sky, the faint outlines of city lights could be seen.

The mountain folk led them to the side of an old, long‑abandoned highway, where a battered yet clearly modified off‑road vehicle with tires taller than a person was parked.

"That's it," the middle‑aged man said as he jumped from the vehicle, his face still as icy, "Remember the promise you made."

After speaking, without even a breath left, the men with him vanished in a few swift steps into the deepening dusk and forest shadows, as if they had never been there.

Zhang Jun ushered Lin Xue into the vehicle; the engine roared like a beast as it surged onto the road, leaving that icy, desolate place far behind.

The car drove to the familiar outskirts of the city; looking at the colorful neon lights and the chaotic traffic jam outside, Zhang Jun felt that something was off everywhere.

Only a few days of cultivation, and this world seems to have quietly changed.

There is an indescribable scent in the air that makes one feel uneasy. By the roadside, in some concealed corners, one can occasionally glimpse a few figures in training robes flashing past.

The ancient martial circle… seems more active than before.