Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun suddenly opened his eyes, his throat so dry it felt like it was on fire.

He sat up, grabbed the chipped enamel mug from the bedside table, and walked to the bucket in the corner.

The water in the bucket was drawn directly from the Greywater River without being settled.

Xilun scooped up a cup, and by the faint moonlight filtering in from the window, he could see a thin layer of black sand settling at the bottom of the water.

Without hesitation, he tilted his head back and gulped it down in one go.

The cold, earthy, and gritty liquid slid down my throat, irritating my esophagus.

"Cough...cough cough..."

He coughed twice, suppressing his voice, feeling as if there was a thorn stuck in his throat.

Xilun wiped the water from the corner of his mouth, his eyes shining frighteningly in the darkness.

He lay back down on the bed, pulled the stiff thin blanket over his head, and went to sleep.

......

Fight club, second floor.

Ryan stood on the podium, his leather shoes making a dull thud on the wooden floor.

"Titans, dragons, behemoths."

He read the words aloud, his voice echoing in the empty training room.

"In the Quaternary period, they were not the fictional monsters described by bards, but real overlords with mountain-like bodies and the ability to stir up tsunamis."

"After the natural disaster, mythical creatures perished, their flesh and blood nourishing the earth and giving birth to the extraordinary ecosystem we have today. What gives us humans the right to dominate? It's the plundering of these legacies."

"Using extraordinary materials from nature, we concoct magical potions. Then, combining them with breathing techniques and martial arts, we develop the body's potential like forging steel. This step is called Body Forging."

The students below the stage held their breath, dozens of eyes fixed on that word.

Renn's gaze swept over the crowd, finally settling on the poorly dressed students in the back row.

"Among you, as long as you can master the sense of Qi, diligently practice the breathing technique, and take the first-tier magic potion 'Frostwolf Potion'..."

"Once promoted to a first-order extraordinary being, that is, a baptized being."

Renn paused, a seductive smile curving his lips.

"Even if you don't become extremely wealthy, you can still be an executive officer leading a five-person squad in any district of the lower city of Saint Laurent."

"After saving up your salary for a few years or even a decade, you can move out of the slums, take out some loans, and buy a small apartment in the bustling downtown area. Your son can attend a proper church school, there will be steam trains running around, and you can feed pigeons in the park on your days off instead of playing with dead rats in the mud."

The people at the back of the room, mostly from slums, sat silently in the corner listening.

For wealthy young men like Robert, this might have been just icing on the cake; but for those of them who made a living at the docks, it was the only rope that could pull their whole family out of the mire.

"alright."

Ryan clapped his hands, and chalk dust fell.

"This week's course is over. Over the past five days, I have thoroughly explained the essentials of breathing techniques. Those who have developed strength will follow me to practice basic combat techniques next week; those who haven't, continue to work hard on breathing techniques."

"Disband."

Ryan grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and strode out of the training room.

With the resounding slam of the door shut, the tense atmosphere instantly relaxed.

A burst of relaxed laughter immediately erupted from the group of wealthy young men in the front row.

"Robert, what are your plans for this weekend?" a boy in a silk shirt asked. "Going to the opera in the next city?"

Robert slowly adjusted his cuffs and smiled, "Opera is too boring. My father built a new private shooting range on the outskirts of town and brought in some of the latest 'Storm' revolvers."

The eyes of the people around immediately lit up.

"Go practice shooting? That's a good idea!"

"Robert, I've heard of your shooting range. The bluestone paving alone must have cost twenty pounds, right?"

Robert nodded politely: "Everyone is welcome to bring their own guns. Of course, the shooting range also provides training guns. After the shooting, there will be fresh juice on the estate."

The group of people surrounded Robert, chatting and laughing as they left the training room.

A corner of the room.

Xilun took off his coat, revealing a faded shirt underneath. He took a deep breath, spread his legs apart, gripped the ground with his toes, and assumed the "Iron Wall Breathing" stance.

Relax your shoulders, drop your elbows, and tuck in your tailbone.

As I adjusted my breathing rhythm, a feeling of soreness began to spread through my muscle fibers.

Kanavi leaned against the wall, clutching an old pocket watch he'd somehow acquired.

Inhale—exhale—

Kanavi stared at the dial, muttering numbers under his breath.

Time ticked by, and sweat trickled down Xilun's forehead, stinging his eyes.

"stop."

Canavie pressed the watch cover, producing a crisp "click" sound.

"The minute hand moved twenty times. Twenty minutes, perfect."

Xilun slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, which condensed into a white mist in the cold air and shot straight toward the blackboard with a soft thud.

He stretched his stiff neck, and his knuckles cracked like popping beans.

It's been five days.

Aside from eating and sleeping, he devoted all his time to this breathing technique. He had memorized every movement and every muscle movement.

But he still didn't feel the "strength" that Ryan had mentioned.

That feeling of heat rushing around never came.

"Still haven't gotten the hang of it," Xilun muttered to himself, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Don't rush, it's not that easy."

Kanavi walked over and handed Xilen a towel. "You look much better than me. I guess it'll only be a day or two before it's over."

Four or five students gradually gathered around, all of whom were ordinary people who had gotten to know the club in the past few days.

A tall, thin man approached; it was Czech.

"Hey guys, what are your plans for the weekend?" Czech asked excitedly. "How about we go to the outskirts? That area used to be an abandoned factory, but now it's flooded into a big lake with lots of lotus roots and wild ducks."

"Going to catch wild ducks?" someone asked.

"What's the point of catching ducks? I'm just going to relax." Czech waved his arms.

Several people were somewhat tempted.

Xilun wiped his sweat and shook his head: "I'm not going."

He subconsciously touched his pocket.

There were three coins lying there.

Three pennies.

With the remaining six pence, he spent one pence in Canaveral on nearly expired goat milk and the other two on some brick-sized rye bread.

This is all he has now.

To get to the outskirts of town and back, you have to take a horse-drawn carriage, or even walk. If you get hungry on the way, even the cheapest potato pancake costs a penny.

"I'm planning to find a part-time job," Celen said, draping a towel over his shoulder. "I'll try to earn something, even if it's just a little bit over the weekend."

"No, Siron!"

Kanavi hooked his arm around his shoulder, his face full of disapproval. "It's no fun with fewer people. Besides, this isn't just about strolling around the lake."

He lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "I stole some good stuff from home. Cabbage, mushrooms, green peppers, and a big bag of cured pork offal."

Upon hearing the words "pork offal," Xilun's stomach clenched violently.

The hunger was like a shark smelling blood, instantly churning in the stomach acid.

Kanavi continued to tempt: "Pork liver, kidneys, sliced ​​thinly, grilled on a hot plate, sizzling with oil, sprinkled with chili powder...tsk tsk."

Xilun swallowed hard.

"And," Czech winked, "Daisy will be there too."

Xilun followed Czech's gaze.

Not far away, several female trainees were packing their things. One of them, a girl with long hair, was talking to her companion with her head turned to the side. Her skin was as white as a freshly peeled egg, and her big eyes were blinking.

That's Daisy, the undisputed beauty among this cohort of trainees.

Especially the striking curve of her chest, which often distracts many boys during training.