Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 132 Ross's Humiliation, Madness, and Delirium

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine.

He noticed someone was watching him and suddenly turned around.

On the other side of the flower bed, a man a full head taller than him was quietly watching him.

Ross.

A first-tier extreme realm expert, and the future heir of the family.

Ross's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes filled with undisguised pity and mockery. He sneered, "My foolish brother, when will you realize that the gap between us is not something that can be easily bridged by becoming someone else's disciple?"

He strode slowly toward Robert, each step carrying a heavy sense of oppression.

"From the very first time we practiced the family breathing technique, the gap between us was like a chasm between heaven and earth."

Ross's voice was so calm it was despairing: "You may seem diligent in chopping wood and sweating it out on the training field every day, but you never seem to sharpen your axe."

You always have that ridiculous perfectionism, wanting to do everything perfectly, but your execution is abysmal.

Ross stopped in front of Robert, looking down at him condescendingly: "You always engage in meaningless socializing, making friends with fair-weather friends who are of no help to you."

You fantasize every day about being recruited by some great knight, soaring to great heights, and crushing everyone who has ever crossed you under your feet.

Ross raised his head high, his handsome face full of arrogance, and calmly declared: "Although we are both first-order extraordinary beings, in my eyes, you are pitifully weak."

Even if I gave you one hand, it wouldn't take me three rounds to kill you.

"You've gone too far!"

Robert was struck on his deepest sore spot, and his eyes instantly turned bloodshot.

He roared, unleashing the full power of dawn, and swung his right fist, sending a whistling sound through the air as he slammed it down on Ross's face.

However, Ross merely raised his right hand slightly.

"Snapped!"

Ross's hand gripped Robert's wrist with perfect precision, like an iron clamp.

Without the slightest stalemate, Ross suddenly exerted force with his five fingers.

"Click!"

The sounds of bones dislocating and cracking could be clearly heard in the quiet garden, and the excruciating pain of broken bones instantly spread throughout Robert's body.

"what!"

Robert let out a piercing scream, cold sweat pouring down his forehead like a waterfall. He bent over in agony, his whole body trembling violently, his left hand clutching his crushed right wrist.

Ross released his grip expressionlessly, looked at his brother struggling in pain, and said calmly, "I'll give you one more chance. Draw your sword and let me see how well you've mastered your supposedly proud swordsmanship."

""

Robert kept his head down, his wrist aching, sweat blurring his vision. He clenched his teeth and remained silent.

Ross narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sweeping over Robert's bare waist.

A moment later, he suddenly laughed, his laughter filled with sarcasm: "So, you don't even have your own sword anymore. As a knight who prides himself on his swordsmanship, you can even lose your knight's short sword, a symbol of honor, and have it taken away like a toy."

Ross shook his head, the last trace of interest in his eyes completely vanishing: "Competing with you is pointless, a complete waste of my time."

He snorted coldly, then suddenly raised his right leg and kicked Robert hard in the stomach.

Robert, who was already suffering from internal injuries, was struck as if by lightning. He flew backward and crashed heavily into the muddy flower bed. He lay on the ground, struggling to breathe and unable to move at all.

Then, Ross stepped forward, raised his custom-made high-end leather shoes, and mercilessly stomped on Robert's head.

He pressed down hard, burying Robert's face firmly in the dirt.

The filthy, rotten, earthy smell mixed with the stench of rainwater assaulted Robert's nostrils and mouth.

Robert swung his intact left hand in humiliation, trying to resist and push away the foot that was pressing down on his head, but under the absolute pressure of the force, he was like an insect nailed to a specimen board, unable to move.

Ross stood there quietly for a while, watching his brother struggle in the mud, until Robert was about to suffocate, then he slowly withdrew his foot.

"You should just accept your fate."

Ross straightened his cuffs and said casually, "Your abilities will never match your ridiculous ideas."

With that, Ross turned and walked away with elegant steps, his figure disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Robert lay in the mud, writhing in agony, his lungs burning.

He was breathing heavily, coughing up mud mixed with blood.

He didn't even have the thought of looking up at the other person; all that remained was endless despair.

After an unknown amount of time, he finally managed to get up with difficulty, hobbling along with a swollen face covered in mud, and walked towards his house.

Along the way, the servants who were usually so respectful to him seemed to have gone blind. Not one of them stepped forward to help him, and they didn't even dare to look at him. They all quickened their pace to avoid him.

It wasn't until he turned the corner of the corridor that the old butler spotted him and exclaimed in surprise, "Young Master Robert, how did your face get so badly injured? Should we call a doctor?"

Robert shook his head numbly, his voice terribly hoarse: "It's nothing—I just accidentally fell and hurt myself."

He pushed open the door, locked it from the inside, and completely shut himself out in the small space.

Leaning against the door, he finally could no longer suppress his inner collapse, slid down to the ground, hugged his knees and wailed loudly.

He scrambled to the bedside, buried his head deep in the blankets, and tried to shut himself out of this cruel world.

In his extreme pain, he began to frantically deceive himself, making excuses for his failures.

"Why—why is it such a coincidence?"

"I've endured so much for so long, all for the sake of competing for a place as Lord Lund's disciple this year, and to prove myself by participating in the Junior Knight Fighting Tournament."

"That's exactly what happened! And that's exactly what happened—he possesses such astonishing talent and power!"

"Why did he happen to appear now?"

"It must be to take everything from me! To steal Lord Lund's attention, to steal my spot in the Junior Knight Fighting Tournament! That must be it!"

Robert roared from under the covers, his eyes bloodshot and horribly bulging: "Otherwise, why would he even show up? He should just stay put in that stinking mud of the slums, like a rat, and never come out again!"

When Robert got out of bed again, he found himself gripping a sharp dagger in his hand.

His pupils were bloodshot and sickly, and his lips twisted into an exaggerated grin as he laughed maniacally: "Heh heh heh heh—it must be like this, it's all your fault, Siren! You took everything from me!"

"As long as I kill you—as long as I cut off your head, everything will be mine again! Under Lord Lund's tutelage, I will become an even more powerful Extraordinary!"

"I will personally kill Ross and tear his bones apart inch by inch to use as stepping stones!"

His thoughts grew increasingly insane, and his rational defenses completely collapsed under the onslaught of jealousy and hatred.

Just then, he faintly heard a whisper that was extremely subtle yet pierced his soul.

The voice seemed to be a mixture of countless voices of men, women, and children, possessing an irresistible magic.

"Why—why is everyone trying to harm you—"

Robert was stunned. He looked around, but the room was empty.

The whispered words didn't stop; instead, they grew clearer, as if pressing against his eardrums: "Why—why is this world so unfair to you—"

Why are you always the one who's never favored—even though you try so hard—?

"This world is so unfair, isn't it?"

These seductive words completely shattered Robert's already fragile mental defenses, and he began to gradually succumb, his consciousness rapidly corroded by a cold and slippery force.

He no longer felt pain; instead, he felt a sense of relief he had never experienced before.

The next morning.

Robert got out of bed again. Surprisingly, he had slept very soundly last night and hadn't even had a dream.

He sat on the edge of the bed, grinning, a stiff and eerie smile, as if everything was fine, as if all the humiliation that had happened yesterday was just an illusion.

He hummed an unknown tune as he went to the mirror in the bathroom and began to wash up.

He carefully wiped his face clean, raised his head, and quietly looked at himself in the mirror.

Robert's face in the mirror was deathly pale.

And in his ear, there seemed to be an extremely thin, living black line slowly passing through his body.

The black line wriggled under the skin, spreading along the blood vessels to the nose, and then silently slipped into the gaps between the fingernails, penetrating everywhere.

However, Robert, standing in front of the mirror, still maintained that eerie smile, seemingly completely unaware of the terrible mutation taking place within his body.

As evening fell, the sky over Saint Laurent was shrouded in heavy clouds, and a steady drizzle pattered against the old glass windows of the Golden Rooster Hotel.

Xilun pushed open the wooden door of Room 302, returning to his small but safe territory, his clothes damp and cold.

He casually opened the specially made bulletproof black umbrella and placed it in the corner behind the door to drain. He then took off his slightly damp navy blue casual suit and neatly hung it on the hanger.

After a fierce street battle with Robert, his muscles were a little sore, but his spirits were exceptionally high.

He rested for a while, then turned around and went to the washroom on the first floor to fetch a basin of warm water. He carefully washed the rainwater off his face and the dirt off his hands, and then soaked his feet to dispel the chill from his body.

After doing all that, Xilun took out the milk and whole wheat bread she had just bought that day from the cupboard, sat down on the edge of the single bed, and began to eat heartily.

Advanced breathing techniques are extremely demanding on physical energy, requiring the user to maintain a constant intake of calories.

After eating and drinking his fill, Xilun sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and began to practice the "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique" without fail.

The sound of rain pattering outside seemed to perfectly complement this deep-sea-derived martial art.

Xilun felt extremely comfortable. With each breath, he could feel the mysterious factors floating in the air flowing into his body through his pores, where they were quickly absorbed and refined by his powerful blood and qi.

He could clearly sense that his fight with Robert in the rain today, and his current training, had caused the progress bar of his breathing technique to leap forward dramatically.

[Skill: Sea Whale Guidance (Tier 1)]

[Progress: 109/500]

After completing a full cycle, Xilun opened his eyes and exhaled a long, warm breath.

He turned around and took out the tube of dark blue deep-sea mineral ointment from the wooden box by the bedside.

This stuff is very cheap, but it's sold by the gram on the black market. He uses a piece every day to temper his skin and flesh, and the remaining amount is probably enough for a few more days.

Xilun took off his shirt, revealing well-defined, firm muscles with faint black scale patterns.

As he evenly applied the plaster to his chest and the joints of his arms, enduring the familiar burning sensation, he calmly organized his next action plan in his mind.

"Tomorrow morning, I will be visiting Lord Lund at Red Leaf Manor."

Xiren silently repeated to himself that this was the most important thing at the moment.

Even a few words of guidance from a third-tier high-level knight would be enough to save him from countless detours.

"Also, remember, if the opportunity arises, be sure to ask Daisy or Lund about the witch."

During the day, when he met Daisy and the hooded woman named Susie at the bakery, Daisy's suggestion piqued his interest in the test of his aptitude for mysticism.

In this perilous world, mastering more power systems means having more trump cards to protect yourself.

"Finally, and most urgently needed—the reward from Lord Wall."

Thinking of this, a rare hint of anticipation appeared on Xilun's cold and stern face.

He was credited with the decapitation operation that wiped out the Grey Hemp pirates.

In addition to the Brotherhood's usual rewards, Lord Wall promised to take a large share of the gold and silver artifacts seized from the Siren's Anvil after the sale of those items.

Conservatively speaking, it must weigh no less than one hundred pounds.

This is truly an exciting sum of money.

Xilun was well aware that he was still a very poor rogue cultivator.

Although they became baptized, the subsequent medicinal materials and mystical knowledge required to learn the "Great Sea Whale Guidance Technique" were all incredibly expensive.

He was now practically penniless, and the only decent formal attire he owned was the navy blue suit that Lord Yuri had given him.

Although he has been receiving a fixed salary of three pounds a week since becoming a navigator a few weeks ago, it still feels like he is struggling financially in the face of the extraordinary person's high expenses.

Xiren thought for a moment, then reached for his trophy—Robert's knight's dagger—from his belt beside the bed.

He slowly drew the short sword from its ornate, jewel-encrusted scabbard.

The sword gleamed with a chilling blue light under the dim gas lamp; its blade was extremely thin and exuded an extraordinary sharpness.

Xilun gently stroked the spine of the sword with his fingers, then tried to channel a trace of the giant whale's power into the blade.

He found that the sword was made of excellent material, and the flow of energy within it was quite good, without any obvious stagnation, making it very smooth to exert force.

The only drawback is that, as a weapon, it is a bit short, making it more suitable for close-quarters combat and assassination.