Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 153 Hand-to-Hand Combat Competition

More than half a month later.

In the dimly lit room, the air seemed to become extremely viscous.

Xilun sat cross-legged on the solid wood floor, his eyes fixed on the two dark red magic ropes floating in mid-air.

He guided the heavy, lead-like energy within his body, guiding it slowly upwards along specific meridian pathways, eventually converging at his fingertips.

As a low, short, mystical syllable escaped from the depths of his throat, the two previously lifeless ropes suddenly trembled.

After a pause of about a second, the rope began to sway gently, and then, as if infused with some kind of vibrant spirit, it began to roll and climb down the air in all directions.

They were like two dark red venomous snakes, sometimes intertwined into a deadly knot, sometimes taut like arrows piercing the void, guided by Xilun's will.

Xilun clenched his teeth, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He kept controlling the rope to make all sorts of extremely tricky binding movements until a feeling of exhaustion, as if being pierced by fine needles, came from deep between his eyebrows, and then he abruptly cut off the transmission of energy.

Snapped.

The magic rope, which had lost control, instantly went limp and fell helplessly to the floor.

Xilun let out a long breath and raised his hand to rub his throbbing temples.

He discovered a crucial detail—using strength in high-intensity hand-to-hand combat primarily depletes physical energy and blood reserves, which can be quickly recovered with proper rest.

However, if one performs such extremely precise external force control, the body may not feel tired, but the mind will fall into a deep state of dryness and exhaustion.

"Could this be the effect of meditation mentioned in the magic book?" Xilun pondered to himself.

The reason why those senior mystical scholars are physically weak yet can perform terrifying spells must be because they have mastered some kind of meditation method to enhance their mental strength and soul power.

He was currently only managing to sustain himself by relying on the formidable foundation of a first-tier baptized being.

He calmed his breathing and turned his gaze to the data panel flashing at the edge of his field of vision.

[Skill: Spiritual Rope (Proficient)]

[Progress: 0/500]

【Characteristics: One-second chanting, mastery required, slight variations, medium strength】

Upon seeing this line of text, a satisfied smile finally appeared on Xilun's cold and stern face.

After more than half a month of tedious practice and countless times of enduring the pain of mental exhaustion, there has finally been a substantial reward.

A one-second chanting time is barely enough to pass the minimum requirement for a surprise attack in a life-or-death struggle.

He bent down and picked up the two dark red magic ropes, skillfully coiling them around his left and right wrists respectively, carefully concealing them with his wide sleeves.

For the past two weeks, besides relentlessly practicing the magic rope, he hasn't missed a single one of his daily basic morning exercises, breathing exercises for the "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique," or honing the "Berello Kick Technique."

If I count the time, it's been a full month since I started receiving targeted training from His Excellency Lund.

Although he spent most of his time practicing alone in the training room of the Golden Rooster Hotel, he would occasionally go to the Red Leaf Manor to seek advice when he encountered stagnation or confusion in the flow of qi and blood.

Although the third-tier extraordinary knight was cold in attitude, his guidance always made him think.

Xilun put on his navy blue suit jacket, picked up the bulletproof black umbrella from the corner, and walked out of the hotel.

The morning in the foggy city was still drizzling with cold rain.

Xilun opened his black umbrella, his leather boots making a dull thud on the puddle-filled stone path.

An hour later, he arrived at Red Leaf Manor in the wealthy suburbs of the city.

After showing his business card to the guard at the entrance, Xilun walked straight into the manor and waited quietly in the wide corridor outside the martial arts hall.

A moment later, light footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

Xilun turned his head in surprise and saw a familiar figure slowly approaching.

It's Robert.

Today, the nobleman's second son was dressed in an extremely smart white training uniform, and his hair was neatly combed.

Clearly, he too had been summoned here by Lord Lund.

When Robert's gaze met Celen's, his face did not show the hysterical jealousy and resentment he usually displayed. Instead, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing an extremely amicable, even humble, smile.

Xilun's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

The two had a deep-seated grudge over a stolen sword and a humiliating beating in a dark alley; that enmity was etched into their very bones.

Now, the other party is showing such a warm and welcoming smile. No matter how much Xilun thinks about it, he simply cannot believe that this narrow-minded noble young master could become so magnanimous overnight.

"Good morning, Your Excellency Sir Sir." Robert even stopped and nodded slightly in greeting, his tone as gentle as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for many years.

Xilun did not respond, but stared intently at the other person with his deep, icy eyes.

With his exceptionally keen perception granted by his "Far-sighted Listening" talent, Siron vaguely heard a strange, muffled sound in Robert's chest, like a mechanical gear wrapped in thick leather struggling to turn.

Xilun's fingers tightened slightly around the umbrella handle, his internal energy instinctively ready to surge at any moment.

Just then, the heavy oak door of the training hall was pushed open from the inside, and Lord Lund's deep and penetrating voice came out.

"Come in, everyone."

Xilun concealed the murderous intent in his eyes, put away his black umbrella, and stepped into the hall first.

Robert, however, maintained his amicable smile and followed behind Celen at a leisurely pace.

The feeling of being watched from behind intensified Xilun's bad premonition.

He deliberately slowed his pace, keeping his peripheral vision constantly focused on Robert's hands.

Inside the training hall, Lord Lund was sitting on a large tiger-skin chair.

His intensely imposing gaze slowly swept over the two men, as if he could see through every bone beneath their skin.

"You have been practicing here with me for a month now."

Lund's voice echoed in the empty hall, "I've already set up the basic framework for you, and there's not much more theory I can teach."

However, there are some things I can still arrange for you.

He suddenly smiled, a smile with a peculiar meaning.

"Have you heard of the Knights' Ring Tournament?"

Siren paused slightly, the information his mentor, Renn, had mentioned immediately flashing through his mind. He replied in a deep voice, "Isn't it just that beginner knight combat tournament in six months?"

Lund shook his head, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

"That was indeed the most important match, jointly organized by the church and the upper nobility, and it concerned the life and death of the club."

But besides that, there are many underground or semi-official tournaments of varying sizes across this continent.

He stood up, his tall figure like an iron tower, bringing a strong sense of suffocation.

"For example, the Pioneer Cup unarmed combat competition held this afternoon in a neighboring city."

This is a competition specifically for Tier 1 Extraordinary Individuals, with a total of thirty-two official slots.

Robert, standing to the side, bowed slightly and asked respectfully, "Master, do you want us to participate in this competition to test the results of our training over the past month?"

Lund sneered, his gaze sharp as a knife: "No, what I mean is, you must participate."

A sudden thought struck Xilun.

An hour later.

Accompanied by the piercing whistle of the steam train, Siren, Robert, and Lund, each carrying simple luggage, slowly descended the platform steps.

The sky remained overcast, and the air in the neighboring city was filled with a stronger smell of coal smoke than in Saint Laurent.

Lord Lund turned up his collar, yawned casually, and his eyes revealed undisguised laziness and indifference.

"Don't expect to ask me for tactics or information about the opponents in the upcoming matches."

You'll have to rely on your own fists to fight in the ring. The invitations have already been given to you on the train.

After saying that, he didn't even glance at the two of them again, and went straight to a rather upscale-looking hotel on the street corner at the train station exit.

Just before entering, he waved to the two people with his back to them.

"The competition will be held nearby. Go and find out the details yourselves. Remember, I only care about the results."

Watching Lund's figure disappear behind the hotel door, Xiren remained silent for a moment.

He glanced at Robert beside him, who still wore that nauseatingly gentle smile and even gestured for Celen to enter.

Xilun ignored him, opened his black umbrella, and walked into the rain.

He drove around the train station for a long time, passing through several muddy alleys, and finally spotted a slightly blurry city map on a sign at an intersection.

Following the map, he walked along the main road for about twenty minutes and arrived at a gray stadium with a huge circular structure.

The stadium's exterior walls are made of thick bluestone bricks, and the top is a complex steel truss, exuding a rugged industrial metallic aesthetic.

Xilun folded his umbrella, pushed open the heavy glass revolving door, and went inside.

The interior space was surprisingly spacious.

Xilun's gaze swept across the entire circular grandstand with lightning speed, and he was immediately taken aback.

The scale of the tournament far exceeded his expectations; the densely packed tiered seating could accommodate at least several thousand people watching at the same time.

He walked through the empty foyer and came to the front desk, which was covered with a red velvet tablecloth.

"Excuse me, is this the venue for the Pioneer Cup unarmed combat competition?" Xilun asked calmly.

A young woman dressed in a well-fitting business suit stood at the front desk.

She has a classic oval face. Although she isn't a stunning beauty like Daisy or Susie, her features are quite delicate, and she has a clever and quick-witted air about her.

The woman looked up, offering a sweet, professional smile, her voice clear and pleasant: "Yes, sir. How can I help you?"

Xiren took the gold-embossed invitation out of his inner pocket and handed it over.

"I'm a contestant, and I'd like to ask about the specific details."

The woman's smile immediately became even more respectful.

She accepted the invitation with both hands, carefully checked the stamp and number on it, then nodded slightly and returned it with both hands.

"Yes, sir. What information would you like to know?"

"I know absolutely nothing about the background and rules of this competition. Could you please explain them in detail?" Xilun leaned against the counter, calmly looking at the other person.

"Of course."

The woman answered sweetly, a hint of pride in her voice, "This is an entry-level bare-handed wrestling tournament for extraordinary individuals, sponsored by Mr. Howard, the city's richest man and a renowned mining tycoon. This is the fourth edition."

She paused, then continued to explain: "The invitations to the event are mainly sent to fight clubs, aristocratic children, and some reputable underground gangs in various places."

Participants must be, and can only be, Tier 1 Extraordinary. The competition will be a single-elimination tournament with a total of thirty-two participants.

"How is the bonus calculated?" Xilun asked the question that concerned him the most.

The woman smiled and held up a few fingers: "Just make it to the semifinals and you'll get a 10-pound prize; the runner-up gets 30 pounds; and the ultimate champion will take home a whopping 60 pounds!"

Xilun quickly calculated in his mind.

Sixty pounds is a huge sum of money that an ordinary person could not earn in ten years, and for a first-level extraordinary person, it is enough to buy several top-quality body tempering ointments.

It's alright, worth a dozen.

He turned around, pointed to the enormous circular stands behind him, and asked, "Is the match going to be held in this huge stadium?"

The woman shook her head and said apologetically, "You misunderstand, sir. This large venue is for tomorrow night's Tier 2 Extraordinary event, which is an intermediate knight combat competition. That level of combat is too destructive and requires a larger buffer zone."

She pointed to a double wooden door at the end of the corridor.

"The Pioneer Cup venue is in the inner annex, which can accommodate about 300 people. Your match will start promptly at 2 PM."

Xilun nodded slightly.

A group of three hundred people is alright; it won't attract too much attention.

However, he was also well aware that with his current overall level, it would be extremely difficult for him to win the 60-pound championship prize.

After all, he wasn't particularly outstanding in the art of breathing techniques. He had only been baptized for a month, and his strength was mediocre, far inferior to those veteran first-tier experts who had practiced for years at the baptism level.

His only advantage was his abnormally strong physique and the newly fused "Coiled Dragon" talent.

"I'll just treat this as accumulating practical experience and taking a look at the trump cards of other schools of thought," Xilun silently decided in his mind.

Having learned that there were still a few hours before the match officially started, Xiren did not choose to sit idly in the stadium.

He turned and left, finding a reasonably clean-looking hotel less than two blocks from the venue, and rented a room by the hour for one shilling.

After putting away his simple luggage, Xilun felt a strong hunger pang in his stomach. The intense blood circulation and mental exertion he had experienced that morning made his body desperately need to replenish itself with high-calorie food.

He went downstairs and found that the hotel had a small wooden restaurant on the first floor.

It was lunchtime, and the restaurant was filled with the aroma of grilled meat fat and the malty smell of cheap ale.

Xilun found a secluded corner by the window and sat down, ordering a large portion of grilled steak, two servings of mashed potatoes, and a glass of warm water.