Chapter 91

The smell of herbs and mildew in the air seemed stronger, the ticking of the hanging clock unusually clear—one beat, then another, striking Zhang Jun's chest.

He looked at Lin Xue, at her bloodless face, at how she pressed her lips tightly shut after saying that.

"Good."

A single word rolled out of his throat, spoken bluntly, with no discernible emotion.

He didn't bother to see Lin Xue's reaction, turned around, and sat back down on the rickety chair that could fall apart any moment, his eyes fixed dead on a grease spot on the floor.

The room was so quiet you could hear dust settling.

Lin Xue didn't move either; the hand beneath the table had its knuckles clenched until they whitened.

No one knew how long this deathly silence lasted; the broken clock on the wall ticked slowly around once more.

Zhang Jun stood up and twisted his slightly stiff neck.

"The Su family's money can't just sit there." His voice returned to its usual hard, flat tone. "This place is too small—no room to hide people, and no way to conduct proper business."

Lin Xue lifted her head and watched his back.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Make money, find people, get everything straightened out." Zhang Jun walked to the door and flung open the rust‑streaked roll‑up door with a clatter, letting the street's noise flood in.

"Lin Zhen, Lin Yan, and those bastards up on Snow Mountain… they owe me, and I'll collect every penny, one by one."

A few days later, Binhai City gained a new company called Positive Yang Technology, which dealt in health management.

The legal representative was Su Muqing, but everyone knew the real power behind the scenes was Zhang Jun.

Su Zhenhai, having snatched back his life, obeyed this lifesaver without question—money, connections, whatever he asked for was given, all green lights.

At the company's opening, they held a lively reception, full of perfume and beautiful silhouettes.

Zhang Jun wore the suit Su Muqing had sent over, standing in a corner, feeling utterly ill at ease.

He disliked such occasions—noisy, full of false pleasantries—but there was no choice; it was the quickest way to scout more connections and line up more money.

"Mr. Zhang, I've long heard of your reputation," said a middle‑aged potbellied man with gold‑rimmed glasses, holding out his wine glass and smiling like the Maitreya Buddha.

"I'm Manager Liu of Everauspicious Health. I've heard your medical skills are divine; if we get a chance, I'll definitely seek your advice."

Zhang Jun nodded, but didn't respond.

He could sense that beneath Manager Liu's smile lay something unfriendly.

Everauspicious Health was a long‑standing local brand, and Positive Yang Technology's business happened to tread on its turf.

"Thank you, Manager Liu," Zhang Jun said, lifting his juice. "I know just enough to get by."

"Mr. Zhang, you're being modest," Manager Liu said, leaning in and lowering his voice. "But young man, if you take steps too big, you'll pull an egg. The waters of Binhai run deep."

He reached out and patted Zhang Jun's shoulder, the force carrying a hint of warning.

Zhang Jun tightened his grip on the cup, and the warm vigor inside him began to stir restlessly.

He forced it down, but his expression remained the same.

"No matter how deep the water, someone has to wade through. Thanks for the heads‑up, Manager Liu."

Sure enough, trouble came knocking a few days later.

The partners Positive Yang Technology had just lined up suddenly backed out, offering excuses more ridiculous than the last.

At the same time, industry and health officials showed up every few days for "inspections," nitpicking and finding fault in every detail.

Zhang Jun sat in his office, looking at the report Su Muqing had handed him, his fingers tapping intermittently on the desk.

This routine was all too familiar.

He picked up the phone.

"Muqing, help me look up Manager Liu of Everauspicious Health's recent physical exam— the more detailed, the better."

Su Muqing's end was highly efficient.

The next day, an encrypted file landed in Zhang Jun's inbox.

Zhang Jun stared at the report's few obscure but definitely problematic heart‑related indicators, then recalled the sluggish sensation he had sensed when standing close to Liu at the reception, and he pretty much had it figured out.

Another industry exchange meeting took place.

Manager Liu was on stage, spitting out his health‑preserving theories, his face flushed, full of pomp.

When it was Zhang Jun's turn to speak, he didn't mention any business plan; instead, he turned his gaze to Manager Liu on the stage.

"Manager Liu, have you lately been feeling a tightness in your chest, a sense of stuffiness, especially in the afternoon? And does your left shoulder ever prickle with a needle‑like pain?"

Manager Liu's smile froze instantly, a flicker of panic crossing his fleshy face.

"Mr. Zhang… what do you mean?"

"Nothing much," Zhang Jun said in an even tone. "Just looking at your complexion, I thought I'd give you a heads‑up. Your heart meridian is a bit blocked; if it isn't cleared, dragging it out could turn serious. Everauspicious Health is in the health business—you can't afford to neglect your own body."

The entire hall fell silent at once, all eyes darting between Zhang Jun and Manager Liu, whose complexion had turned awful.

Manager Liu forced himself to keep up appearances: "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Zhang—I'm in great shape!"

"All right then." Zhang Jun said no more and sat back down.

The effect was obvious.

After that, the little moves against Positive Yang Technology dwindled considerably.

Zhang Jun also followed the vine, digging deeper into information unearthed from the Su family, and caught a lead—some of Everauspicious Health's medicinal raw‑material suppliers seemed to have murky financial ties with a few overseas biotech firms that had some connection to Lin Zhen.

The trail ultimately pointed to an abandoned factory on the city's outskirts.

Zhang Jun decided to go see for himself.

Lin Xue stood at the window of the clinic's rear hall, watching Zhang Jun's car drive away until it vanished around the corner.

She picked up her phone and dialed a number that wasn't saved in her contacts.

"The target's moving—follow, keep your distance, no need to show yourself."

All that came back from the other end was a low "yes," and then the line went dead.

She put down her phone, her fingertips still tingling with the cold of the phone screen.

The sky grew darker and darker, and a light rain began to fall.

Zhang Jun parked his car a few hundred meters outside the abandoned factory and turned off the engine.

Raindrops pattered against the car windows, and the surroundings were eerily quiet.

He pushed open the car door, and icy rain instantly soaked his hair.

Just as he stepped through the factory's rusted, nearly collapsing gate, a sudden surge of scalp‑tingling danger exploded.

Almost on pure instinct, he threw himself sideways without a second thought.

A hiss!

A jet‑black short blade grazed where he had just been, plunging deep into the ground with a puff, its edge glowing with an eerie blue light—clearly laced with deadly poison.

From the darkness, a figure clad entirely in black emerged, silent and swift as a gust of wind, and a second strike was already upon Zhang Jun.

The opponent's palm carried a bone‑chilling yin‑cold force, and wherever it swept, the air seemed to freeze into frost.

Zhang Jun rolled frantically to dodge, and the pure yang heat within him erupted explosively, his fist surging forward with a wave of scorching heat.

"Thud!"

Fist and palm collided, emitting a dull, explosive bang.

Zhang Jun felt an icy poison needle pierce his arm and crawl into his body, numbing half of him instantly.

The black‑clad opponent also let out a muffled groan, his body shaking violently—clearly scorched by Zhang Jun's pure yang power.

Though the black‑clad fighter missed, his assault grew fiercer, his movements erratic, his techniques vicious and crafty, each move radiating intense killing intent—not a spar, but clearly aimed at taking his life.

Relying on the domineering heat within him, Zhang Jun had ample strength, but in terms of fighting experience and skill, he was clearly no match for that slick opponent.

After a few exchanges, he had acquired several shallow cuts, but the yin‑cold force seeping into them slowed his movements by half a beat.

Another head‑on clash!

Zhang Jun was knocked back several steps, his chest churning, a metallic taste of blood rising in his throat.

The black‑clad fighter seized the opening, lunging forward like a ghost, his poison‑coated short blade flashing with a dark light as it thrust straight at Zhang Jun's heart.

Damn it! I'm going to die here!

At that deadly moment, a figure moved even faster than the black‑clad attacker!

Almost as if appearing out of thin air, a clear "ding" rang out—the black‑clad fighter's seemingly certain strike was casually deflected.

Immediately after, the mysterious figure turned his wrist, and a flash of icy cold light sliced through.

The black‑clad fighter let out a piercing, short scream, clutching his wrist as he stumbled back, staring in shock and doubt at the sudden interloper.

The newcomer did not pursue, simply standing silently before Zhang Jun, his back turned.

Rain soaked the newcomer's clothes, outlining a frame that wasn't bulky but unusually straight and tall.

The black‑clad fighter stared fixedly at the mysterious person for a few seconds, then glanced at the panting Zhang Jun on the ground, and finally dared not press his luck—his form flickered like a drop of ink merging into the night, vanishing swiftly into the night rain and the shadows of the abandoned factory.

Zhang Jun pushed himself up from the wet ground, gasping for breath, and lifted his gaze to the unfamiliar back before him.