Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 162 A Trustworthy Person: Investigating Xilun's Background

He went straight to the event information desk in the lobby on the first floor.

"Find out who my opponent is in the next semi-final." Xiren tapped the wooden tabletop with his finger.

The female employee at the front desk looked up and saw Xilun's cold and stern face, a hint of undisguised fear flashing in her eyes.

She had obviously heard the rumors about Xilun's brutal killing of his fellow disciples.

She flipped through the roster with trembling hands, her voice shaking: "Mr. west-Xi-Lun—your next opponent, which is in three days, is—is Philip."

Xilun had already anticipated this. Upon hearing the name, he simply nodded slightly, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Just as Xiren stepped out the door, in the corridor leading to the athletes' preparation room, Philip, wearing a towel and wiping the sweat from his forehead, came out.

He maintained his gentle smile and walked to the front desk: "May I ask who my opponent is in the next round?"

The woman at the front desk swallowed hard and whispered, "It's from the Iron Cross Club, Xilun."

Philip paused slightly as he wiped his sweat, then nodded gently, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes.

The younger brother following behind him suddenly jumped up, shouting excitedly, "It's Xilun! Brother, we're practically guaranteed a spot in the finals!"

'

The younger brother curled his lip in disdain, his voice so loud that the entire hall could hear him!

"Of the remaining three opponents, that Xiren is definitely the weakest! He's just trash who got into the competition by killing his own disciples; he doesn't deserve to stand in the ring at all!"

Philip turned around, his brows furrowed slightly, and looked sternly at his younger brother.

"Shut up, Luke."

Philip shook his head, his tone gentle yet carrying an undeniable authority: "Never underestimate any opponent who makes it to the semifinals. Rumors stop with the wise; those who survive are not lucky."

He draped the towel over his shoulder and took a deep breath.

"Alright, enough talk. Come with me to continue training. The semifinals are only three or four days away, and I need to polish the transition of 'Ice Rain' one more time."

By the time I returned to the hotel, night had completely fallen.

The heavy smell of coal smoke mixed with the fishy odor of rain enveloped the entire city.

Siren ordered a simple rye bread and beef stew at the restaurant on the first floor.

As he carried his tray to his seat, the once noisy restaurant seemed to be instantly silenced, falling into an eerie stillness.

Those around Xilun looked at him with a mixture of barely concealed fear and disgust.

That look in his eyes was as if he were looking at a bloodthirsty monster that might suddenly attack and hurt people at any moment.

Whenever Xilun walked by, the diners at the next table would hurriedly pick up their plates and avoid him as if he were a plague.

Xilun remained expressionless, not even lifting his eyelids.

He knew all too well what these people were thinking.

Last night, he punched the old man who was spreading rumors, making him foam at the mouth and convulse on the ground. That brutal scene has been deeply imprinted in the minds of these ordinary people.

As for why he killed Robert, whether Robert had become abnormal and out of control, and the rights and wrongs of the matter, these people who only believe rumors and gossip have no idea and don't care.

Out of absolute fear of violence, they avoided Xilun, keeping a safe distance.

Even in this crowded, cheap restaurant where the aisles were packed with people, Xiren was all alone at the long table.

With him as the center, a two-meter radius forms an absolute vacuum zone.

Xilun slowly tore open a piece of rye bread, dipped it in the broth, and chewed it bite by bite.

He needs high-calorie food to replenish the energy and blood he has consumed during the day. As for loneliness, that is the norm for strong people.

Suddenly, a slight commotion arose at the restaurant entrance.

Someone exclaimed, "It's Philip! Mr. Philip is back!"

Xilun paused slightly while chewing, raised his head, and glanced at the object out of the corner of his eye.

A tall man with fair skin, dressed in clean and appropriate casual clothes, walked into the restaurant with a gentle smile.

His appearance seemed to dispel the gloom brought about by Xilun in the restaurant, and many people cast respectful and ingratiating glances at him.

Philip scanned his surroundings, his gaze lingering on Xilen for half a second before naturally looking away.

He walked toward the food serving window.

A bold drunkard leaned in and, emboldened by the alcohol, shouted, "Mr. Philip! We all saw the schedule this afternoon, and that guy—that Siren—is your opponent in the next semi-final!"

The drunkard pointed menacingly in Xilun's direction, looking at Philip with a fawning expression: "You'll teach him a lesson, won't you? Break his arms and legs in the ring! This kind of despicable slum scum deserves to know what real rules are!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the restaurant.

Philip picked up his plate and turned around.

His smile faded slightly as he looked at the drunkard and gently shook his head.

"I trust the Metropolitan Police Department's judgment."

Philip's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the quiet restaurant: "If he really were a ruthless murderer, he should be in a dark cell right now, not standing in the semi-final ring."

With his tray in hand, Philip walked through the crowd and headed straight for the long table where Siron was.

Amidst everyone's astonished gazes, he calmly sat down two spaces away from Xilun.

"Sirlen is a trustworthy opponent."

Filet added casually, then picked up his knife and fork and began to work on the steak on his plate.

Xilun stuffed the last piece of bread, soaked in broth, into his mouth and swallowed.

He didn't look up at Philip, nor did he say a word of thanks or provocation.

The two sat at the same table, yet it was as if they were in two parallel worlds, with only the crisp sound of knives and forks clattering against porcelain plates echoing in the air.

This is a silent confrontation, and also a tacit understanding unique to the strong.

Ten minutes later, Xilun finished eating, stood up, picked up his coat draped over the back of his chair, and turned to leave the restaurant without looking back.

The two did not exchange a single word from beginning to end.

Night was falling.

Philip returned to his luxury suite on the second floor of the hotel, opened the door, and respectfully bowed to the old man sitting on the sofa.

"teacher."

The old man's name was Ecuador. He wore a gray robe, had deep-set eyes, and a gaze as sharp as a hawk's.

He is Philip's mentor and the inheritor of the "Blizzard School" in Saint Laurent City.

Ecuador put down his pipe and asked in a hoarse voice, "You checked this afternoon? Your next opponent is that young man named Siron?"

"Yes, teacher." Philip nodded.

"Do you have his detailed information?" Egual pressed.

Philip was slightly taken aback and looked at his teacher with some confusion: "What kind of information do you need? Although I don't underestimate him, I watched his first two matches. He mainly focuses on claw techniques and rudimentary leg techniques, and his strength foundation is not deep."

I don't believe I would lose to "Blizzard Eight Strikes".

"madness!"

Ecuador slammed his hand on the table, his eyes stern and terrifying.

"Philip, how many times have I told you, never trust what you see!"

The old man stood up, walked to the window, looked at the rain outside, and said in a low voice, "Don't underestimate your opponent, no matter how insignificant he may seem in the ring! Do you really think he only got to the semifinals by luck?"

Philip remained silent, but a hint of resentment still lingered in his eyes.

Egua sneered: "I used my connections today to check the case file on Robert's death at the Metropolitan Police Department."

Do you know what state Robert was in when he died?

Philip was taken aback: "Didn't you say—he was assassinated?"

"Ambush? Ha." Egual turned around and stared intently at his apprentice. "Robert suffered an extremely severe unknown mutation before his death!"

At that moment, his strength had definitely surpassed his original limits, reaching a terrifyingly berserk state!

Philip's pupils contracted sharply.

"Based on the strength that Celen has shown in the ring, he can at most be said to be slightly better than a normal Robert."

Egua's tone was chilling, "But with Robert completely out of control and his strength greatly increased, this Siren actually killed Robert head-on without sustaining any fatal injuries!"

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Philip felt a cold sweat break out on his back.

"This is enough to prove that he is not as simple as he seems."

Egua sat back down on the sofa and tapped his pipe. "He's hiding something in the ring."

Moreover, they concealed an extremely fatal trump card.

"There are still three days until your next match." Egual looked at Fili, his tone serious. "I will thoroughly investigate this Siren's background, and even buy information about him on the black market."

Before the match, I want to as accurately assess his true strength and potential weaknesses as possible.

Philip took a deep breath, suppressed all his pride, and bowed deeply: "Yes, teacher. I will train even harder."

Three days flew by in the tense and stressful preparation.

For Xilun, his physical and mental foundation had not made any substantial breakthrough in these three days.

The only significant improvement he could call was that he had completely internalized the absolute control he had built using the [Far-Reaching] technique, which extended to a three-meter radius area.

Of course, this comes at an extremely heavy price.

Every time he activates his three-meter domain, his mental energy is drained as if by a pump, and after training, he often experiences severe migraines and dry heaving.

But Xilun stubbornly persevered.

On the morning of the fourth day.

Xilun got up early, washed up with icy cold water, and changed into a specially made all-black training suit.

He didn't bring the conspicuous Resentful Revolver, nor the Knight's Short Sword.

After expelling the stale air from his body through his morning exercise, he held up a black umbrella and walked slowly toward the Pioneer Cup venue.

As he approached the venue, even with his detached nature, he couldn't help but be somewhat shocked.

The venue was exceptionally lively today.

The area was surrounded by enthusiastic citizens, and even the carriages on the street were completely blocked.

The hype surrounding the semi-finals, coupled with various outrageous rumors circulating beforehand, propelled the competition to its peak of popularity.

Xilun squeezed into the crowd with a blank expression.

At the entrance of the stadium, several reporters, who appeared to be from media outlets, were interviewing spectators in line, loudly asking for their opinions on the morning's match between West Ham and Filho.

"Is that even a question?!"

A portly man in front of him confidently shouted at the notebook, "Only Philip can win! His Blizzard Eight Strikes is simply art!"

That scum who rose to power by killing his fellow disciples won't last three rounds!

"That's right! There's absolutely no other possibility!"

Another tall, thin man chimed in, "Mr. Philip is the man who's going to win!"

The reporter noted it down with satisfaction, then turned his attention to a simply dressed woman next to him.

The woman seemed somewhat intimidated by the frenzied atmosphere around her. She shrank back and said shyly in a low voice, "I—I support Mr. Celen to win. He—he seems very strong."

A burst of shrill laughter immediately erupted around them.

Xiren stood at the back of the crowd, pulled down the brim of his hat, and smiled slightly, silently giving the woman a thumbs up in his heart.

Good eye!

He ignored the noise, showed his contestant badge, and went straight into the venue through the designated passage.

It must be said that the scale of the semi-finals is vastly different from before.

The venue, which was originally only half open, was now brightly lit, and the stands, which can accommodate 300 people, were estimated to be almost 90% full.

In the VIP seats near the front, Xiren even saw many familiar faces.

The two men in suits who had previously discussed him also arrived.

Since it was the weekend and they didn't need to take their child to school, the couple specially bought good seats.

One of the men adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, glanced at the battle list in his hand, and pondered, "As a civilian student of the Iron Cross Club, this Siren's performance has indeed been amazing. However, it seems his good luck is about to end."

"yes."

His companion nodded. "Philip's strength is far superior to that of Reggie."

The suppression of elemental power cannot be overcome simply by physically enduring it.

Rejesty: 6

""

Not far below them, Reggie, his arms still wrapped in bandages, stared intently at the empty arena with a dark expression.

He was paying close attention to the match.

Watching Siren, who had defeated him, climb higher and higher in the rankings, Rejes felt a strange sense of relief.

In fact, he secretly hoped in his heart:

If Siren can pull off an upset and defeat Phil today, then when Rejesty goes back, he can rightfully tell everyone that he is actually extremely strong, but he was just unlucky and ran into this year's runner-up or even the champion in the first round!

However, reason told him that this was just wishful thinking.

He had personally experienced Xilun's strength; he was very strong, but he was definitely no match for Fili, who could freeze people into ice sculptures.

Or rather, not many people in the entire stadium were optimistic about Xilun.

The contestants prepare indoors.

Xilun took off his coat and silently began warming up and stretching.

A storm of shouts erupted outside; the host was introducing the contestants.

The name the audience was chanting wildly was "Philip".

Only a very few scattered voices cheered for Xilun.

He paid no heed to this; in his mind, like intricate gears, he began a final simulation of his battle strategy.

-

"My advantage lies in my physical strength; my coiled dragon body is enough to withstand most blunt force attacks. My claw techniques, aided by a corrupting effect, possess extremely strong offensive capabilities."

"But the disadvantages are also obvious: their total strength is weak, making them unable to fight a prolonged battle; their fighting skills are not outstanding, making them easily led by the nose by the opponent's exquisite moves."

Xiren took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

Empty yourself of all distracting thoughts, humiliation, and anger, leaving only the purest killing intent and composure.

Shortly after, there was a knock on the wooden door of the preparation room.

The referee outside shouted, "Both players, please enter the arena!"

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