Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 107: Proficient Marksmanship, Introduction to Occultism, Yuri's Visit

The muffled gunshots echoed through the empty underground training ground, and the acrid smell of gunpowder mixed with the damp, musty odor permeated the air.

Siren held his arms out straight, his wrists as steady as a rock.

Even a large-caliber training gun with tremendous recoil only caused a very slight tremor in his hands, which were tempered by both the Black Scale Pattern and the Iron Wall Breathing Technique.

He deftly put away his gun, skillfully pressing the cylinder release button with his thumb. The scorching brass cartridges clattered as they fell onto the scratched cement floor.

Xiren handed the training gun back to the training ground administrator and turned to push open the heavy iron door.

When I left the house, it was already completely dark outside.

Lead-gray clouds hung low over the foggy city, and torrential rain poured down, pounding against the uneven stone road and splashing up muddy water.

Xilun opened a large black umbrella, hiding most of his body in the heavy shadow, and slowly walked along the muddy street toward the Golden Rooster Hotel.

As he walked, a stream of pale red data flickered silently in his deep pupils, like a waterfall.

[Skill: Basic Marksmanship (Proficient)]

[Progress: 8/500]

[Features: Within 30 paces, every shot hits its mark; slide-step firing; stable hands!]

Xilun silently assessed the weight of those words in his mind.

Within thirty paces, every shot hits its mark; he slides while firing, his hands firmly planted.

This is not just an improvement in data, but also an instinct deeply imprinted in muscle fibers after countless tedious repetitions.

He nodded slightly, and raindrops streamed down the umbrella ribs, reflecting his cold profile.

After returning to room 302 of the Golden Rooster Hotel, he did not rest immediately.

Xilun took off his heavy raincoat, which was soaked by the rain, and casually hung it on the back of a chair to dry.

He stood in front of the somewhat worn dressing mirror, his right hand hanging naturally at his sides, when suddenly he made a loose clenching motion.

The muscle memory of drawing a gun and reloading was on full display at this moment. The movements were so swift and decisive that it seemed as if a deadly barrage of fire could be unleashed in an instant.

Xilun exhaled a long, warm breath, clearly feeling that his overall strength had improved by an extremely small but solid point.

He nodded slightly, his eyes revealing absolute rationality.

After his successful baptism, his extraordinary strength became his greatest asset, but he still picked up his marksmanship again and maintained a rigorous daily training regimen.

Although in combat at this level, ordinary firearms play a negligible role and are even unable to penetrate the skin membrane of a baptized person of the same level.

However, if one can acquire more powerful alchemical firearms or large-caliber armor-piercing weapons in the future, the value of this proficiency level skill will increase exponentially.

The accumulation of strength should never have any weaknesses.

The heavy rain outside continued to pound against the glass windows, and the strong wind tore at the old window frames, making them creak under the strain.

Xilun lay quietly on the hard bed, enjoying this rare moment of peace and quiet alone.

He picked up a glass of warm milk, took a small sip, and with his other hand picked up an apple from the table and took a bite. The crisp chewing sound was particularly clear in the cramped room.

By the dim light of the gas lamp by his bedside, he opened the thick book of mysticism, focusing his gaze on the obscure chapters about "chemistry".

The emphasis of the three foundational courses that Daisy previously described can, to some extent, determine the future path of an extraordinary individual.

A thorough understanding of classical literature leads to a greater resonance and comprehension of the mysterious stone carvings left over from the Fourth Age. This also makes them more adept at constructing complex magical schemes, which is an essential path to exploring the source of ancient power.

Biology, on the other hand, generally focuses on the art of treating the weak and suffering, involving the modification of flesh and blood machinery, the preparation of vaccines and serums, and the deep dissection of alien bodies.

As for being proficient in chemistry, it will be more helpful in mastering alchemical artifacts, analyzing the reaction equations of elemental spells, and refining and brewing high-level magic potions.

This is the seventeenth day that Xilun has been fully immersed in his studies.

The symbols and theories that were originally like cryptic texts gradually formed a rough but complete logical framework in his mind.

He vaguely sensed that he was about to touch some kind of invisible threshold, and the wonderful premonition that his knowledge was about to undergo a qualitative change made him feel a little excited.

He gradually began to ponder in countless late nights which path he should specialize in.

Xilun put down his book, stared at the mold on the ceiling, and pondered, "First of all, I'm short of money. I don't have a distinguished family background, nor do I have a high-ranking knight backing me up like Robert."

Ideally, I would be able to discover or learn a unique skill through this vast system of occultism. This skill should allow me to earn a large amount of gold pounds, and perhaps even get to know some powerful figures in high positions.

"More importantly," a glint of insight that only he could understand flashed in Xilun's eyes, "this skill is best utilized by the Crimson Editor to digitize and experience it, thereby breaking down conventional learning barriers."

Xilun pondered for a long time, considering countless possibilities in his mind, and finally exhaled, suppressing his chaotic thoughts.

Regardless of the future direction of mysticism, the first step is to address the immediate crisis—to learn the basics of that breathing technique that can break through limits.

He turned page after page until late at night, when Xilun finished reading the last character in the book.

He rubbed his slightly sore temples, exhaled, and lay down flat.

In the twilight state between sleep and wakefulness, the characters in my mind related to literature, biology, and chemistry began to recombine uncontrollably, like living gears splicing and meshing together in the depths of consciousness.

When Xilun opened his eyes again, it was already a hazy morning.

He routinely flipped through his notes from the previous night, when suddenly his eyes narrowed.

He discovered that, without realizing it, he could somehow create a strange connection between the characters and knowledge of three subjects: the grammatical structure of classical literature, the elemental reactions of chemistry, and the physical rhythms of biology.

[Skill: Mysticism (Introduction)]

[Progress: 0/100]

[Characteristics: Extraordinary language, a glimpse into the basics; enigmatic cryptic language, spiritual insight!]

At the same time, he turned his attention back to the fragment of the "Guiding Technique of the Giant Whale of the Great Sea" that he had hastily copied down on the fourth floor.

The characters that were originally so distorted and dizzying to look at had now become less obscure.

Although it is still profound, he has been able to translate many parts of it with some difficulty.

He immediately picked up his pen and tried to translate the characters coherently.

The pen tip scratched on the rough paper, and soon more than half an hour had passed.

He forcibly translated and expanded those three hundred fragmented characters into an article of more than two thousand words.

Xilun put down his pen, let out a long breath, stared intently, and then his brows furrowed deeply.

The sentences are extremely disjointed, and the logic is full of forced and contrived elements.

"The rhythm of the heart and lungs settles like mercury—" Xilun murmured one of the lines, immediately realizing the error in it.

If he were to force his qi and blood to circulate according to this nonsensical translation, his internal organs would probably be turned into a pile of mud by the rampaging qi within half an hour.

"It seems my foundation is still lacking; working in isolation won't work." Xilun shook his head and neatly put away the stack of draft paper filled with nonsense.

Just as he yawned and was about to wash his face, there was a very regular knocking sound at the door.

Tap, tap, tap!

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable certainty.

Xilun's eyes sharpened, and he instantly went on alert, his right hand subtly gripping the cold pistol handle behind his waist.

He walked silently to the door, peeked through the crack, and then his expression froze slightly.

He opened the door, and a long-unseen figure appeared in the dim light of the corridor.

Yuri.

The man in front of me still had that gaunt face and middle-aged demeanor.

He wore an elegant black trench coat, leaned on a silver carved cane, and had a warm smile that seemed to melt the ice of this foggy city.

Yuri looked at Siren, a barely perceptible scrutiny flashing in his eyes, before smiling and saying, "Long time no see, my subordinate. Mr. Siren, you've already been baptized, which truly surprises me. Your growth rate is much faster than I expected."

Xiren quickly concealed the sharpness in his eyes, loosened his grip on the gun, bowed slightly, and maintained a perfectly respectful posture, saying, "Greetings, Lord Yuri."

Yuri smiled gently and tapped the ground lightly with his cane. "Just call me 'sir,' or 'gentleman.' 'Sir' feels too heavy here."

Xiren paused for a moment, then readily agreed, "Gentleman Yuri."

Yuri raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a half-smile: "What, aren't you going to invite me in?"

Xilun immediately stepped aside to make way, saying, "Please come in."

Yuri stepped into the simple guest room, his gaze sweeping over the moldy corner, the pile of occult drafts on the table, and the hard wooden bed without a trace of disgust in his eyes.

Xilun pulled out the only relatively intact wooden chair and invited him to sit down, then turned to make tea.

Hot water was poured into the rough teacup, and a few bitter tea leaves floated up.

Before Xilun handed the teacup to Yuri, Yuri did not hesitate, picked up the teacup and took a small sip.

"It's been a long time since I've had such cheap, weak tea." Yuri put down his teacup, savoring the lingering astringency on his tongue. "However, it has a unique flavor. It makes you remember what the soil at the bottom tastes like."

He raised his head, his deep eyes looking directly at Xiren: "I heard you're working for Wall now? It's a very strict place, I feel more at ease with you there."

Xiren was taken aback; he hadn't realized that his personnel changes had been under the other party's watchful eye all along. He remained silent, waiting for what was to come.

Yuri placed his hands on his cane, his tone gradually becoming more serious: "Your potential is truly eye-opening, Siron."

Your future should never be wasted by confining yourself to a specific job.

Your primary goal is to pursue advanced and extraordinary paths. In this case, becoming a mentor might be a very suitable stepping stone for you.

"It offers both generous compensation and ample time to hone one's skills."

Xilun nodded slightly, acknowledging the other party's judgment.

Yuri paused for a moment, then suddenly changed the subject, his voice revealing a hint of coldness: "You are a promising young man, and I have always hoped to provide you with some opportunities to advance."

However, you shouldn't forget that dangers surround you.

He extended a finger and tapped it lightly on the table: "Leaving aside those illusory job competitions and dangerous extraordinary paths, even your existing enemies are some troublesome ones."

For example, that guy from the Razor Claws. Although a mid-level knight intervened for you a while ago, you need to understand that such words only work in that particular situation.

That knight wasn't truly trying to protect you, a commoner with no connections; he was only acting out of past favors and to save face. Once the storm has passed, he'll still be targeting you from the shadows.

Yuri looked at Xilen's calm face, his admiration deepening, and continued, "And Robert, for example."

As core members of the same club, the competition for many valuable opportunities and resources will become even more brutal.

He has the support of his family's wealth, while you only have yourself. Do you understand what I mean?

Xiren met Yuri's gaze without flinching, and said calmly and firmly, "I know. No one will protect anyone forever. If you want to survive, if you want to climb up, you can only rely on your own fists."

Yuri nodded slightly, his coldness transforming into a warm smile: "You're a cautious and clear-headed young man, and I think you know your limits. I won't say anything more."

After saying that, he stood up, straightened the collar of his trench coat, and pointed to the door with his cane: "How about we go for a walk?"

Xiren had no choice but to put on the slightly worn trench coat and silently followed Yuri out of the Golden Rooster Hotel.

The rain had stopped briefly in the foggy city, but the air was still thick with humidity and the smell of coal smoke.

The sky over Saint Laurent is always like this, as if it is forever covered by a layer of gray smog that cannot be dispelled.

The two walked slowly along the streets of the lower city. The pedestrians on the road were in a hurry, most of them dressed in rags and with pale faces. Occasionally, a steam carriage would rush by, splashing muddy water on the roadside and eliciting a chorus of low curses.

Yuri's leather shoes clicked steadily on the wet, slippery cobblestones. He surveyed his surroundings, his tone carrying a condescending mix of pity and coldness: "Saint Laurent City is always like this, isn't it? Smog, filth, suffocatingly oppressive."

He waved his cane and pointed to the towering Upper City buildings in the distance, barely visible: "The Upper City is always respectable yet hypocritical. The nobles there wear silk, drink red wine, and talk about art, but in secret they do deals that are dirtier than sewer rats."

The lower town, on the other hand, was always filthy and vulgar; people would stab each other in the street over a few pieces of black bread.