Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 166 Refining the Ice Pool, Taking the Initiative to Provoke

His cloudy eyes swept over Lund across from him, and he chuckled dryly twice: "Lund, you're still young, always running around with these good-for-nothing commoners."

Lund sneered and retorted without any politeness, "My disciple is also young, only eighteen years old this year, a full three years younger than your precious apprentice Marshall. He has a long road ahead of him."

The old man named Rick shook his head, his tone clearly arrogant: "My disciple is exceptionally talented, but he has a huge appetite."

If I were to share a pool with a withered disciple like you, I fear I would lack the necessary nutrients and not be able to absorb them to my heart's content.

Why don't you wait until next year? You know the rules at Bath Monastery: you can only soak twice a year, and the effects don't last long afterward.

Why waste time here?

Lund's expression instantly turned cold, and a terrifying pressure belonging to a third-order mutant subtly spread throughout the hall, making the surrounding air feel heavy.

"Rick, I respect you as a senior, so I was very respectful to you just now."

Lund's voice was as cold as ice, "If you don't know what's good for you, I don't mind having a knightly duel right here."

Let's see if your old bones are harder, or my fists are harder!

Rick was an old man whose vitality had long since begun to decline, so naturally he didn't want to engage in a life-or-death duel with Lund, who was in his prime.

His expression changed, and in the end he could only snort coldly and sigh, "Since that's the case, then I'll follow the dean's orders."

The two disciples were then allowed to enter the pool and refine their energy, each relying on their own abilities.

"If your disciple can't withstand the cold and gets frostbite, don't blame us for not warning you."

Led by the butler, Celen and Marshall passed through a stone door and arrived at a natural cave located underground.

In the center of the cave is a pool of water, about ten square meters in size.

Large ice crystals floated on the water's surface, and wisps of white, chilly air churned and rose from it.

Just standing by the pool, Xilun could feel a bone-chilling cold seeping into his body through his pores.

Xilun pursed his lips, his eyes deep.

Marshall didn't even glance at Siron, completely disregarding him; his attitude was almost blatant contempt.

In his view, Xiren's ability to reach the final was merely due to luck in running into the easy opponent, Filipe Luis, who was not worthy of being his opponent at all.

Looking at Marshall's arrogant demeanor, Xiren recalled Lund's earlier tactical analysis:

Ideally, you should provoke your opponent and, in the arena six days later, exploit their moment of irrationality to make them suffer the backlash of your power.

After a moment's thought, Xilun decided to take the initiative.

Marshall quickly took off his shirt, revealing muscles as hard as rock, and several hideous scars crisscrossing his back.

He completely ignored Xilun's meaning and stepped one foot into the icy cold pool.

Siren slowly unbuttoned his shirt, thought for a moment, then lazily raised his head and said in an extremely calm tone, as if stating an objective fact, "Perhaps your mentor hopes that you can use the blessings of this Bath Abbey to reduce the gap between us as much as possible."

Marshall's movements suddenly stopped.

Xilun didn't stop, continuing in that calm voice, "Although I don't think this pool can be of much use, after all, the energy in the water is not very efficient for your crude refining methods."

However, if it can give you even a tiny bit more of a chance of winning, then it's some consolation.

Marshall turned his head and stared intently at Xilen, his eyes seeming to spit fire.

He sneered, "Who do you think you're talking to? You think you can beat me? Slum trash!"

Xilun calmly looked back at him, his eyes showing no fear whatsoever, not even a flicker of emotion: "I didn't think that way."

He paused, neatly folded the clothes he had taken off and placed them on the stone, before continuing, "After all, you are the challenger who needs to look up to me."

If you can give it your all in six days, I might be happy to step in and have a little competition with you.

certainly----"

A faint, mocking smile played on Xilun's lips: "If you still only have the pitiful strength you showed in the semifinals, defeating someone like you would be utterly boring."

Marshall was completely stunned.

These words not only strongly challenged his arrogant perception, but what drove him even crazier was that Xilun's expression when he spoke was so natural and calm.

That wasn't a bluff or a provocation; it was stating something that was perfectly reasonable!

Marshall never felt inferior to his opponent; in fact, he felt he could crush Xilen with a single finger.

Now, an ant is using such a condescending tone to pity him?

Instantly, a surge of violent rage shot to the top of his head. Marshall's forehead veins bulged as he roared, "You? I'll tear you apart right here and now!"

He swung his thick, bucket-like arm violently, creating a gust of wind.

However, Xilun no longer paid any attention to him.

He ignored the enraged Marshall as if he were a spoiled child, and strode off into the icy pool.

The moment the pool water reached above my chest, a terrifying chill pierced my pores like thousands of steel needles.

Xilun's face turned pale instantly, but he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

He closed his eyes, and the "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique" within his body began to circulate rapidly!

Beneath the skin and flesh, faint black dragon patterns emerged, beginning to frantically resist and devour the surrounding cold air.

He slowly and greedily allowed the pool water to temper his body, absorbing the pure and cold energy.

In the corner of his field of vision, on a data panel visible only to him, the value representing the progress of his cultivation technique was slowly but surely increasing!

[Skill: Sea Whale Guidance (Tier 1)]

[Progress: 339/500]

Inside the dark ice pool, the air was filled with a biting chill, and white mist swirled and tumbled on the surface of the water as if it had a life of its own.

Seeing that Xilen didn't even flinch before decisively immersing his entire body in the icy pool that seemed to freeze the soul, Marshall's eyes twitched violently twice.

He snorted twice, the anger at being slighted burning in his chest like wildfire.

"Pretentious slum rats," Marshall cursed inwardly.

The other party's condescending words just now seemed to be deliberately showing off some kind of unfathomable confidence, making it seem as if he, Xilun, was so superior and powerful.

However, in Marshall's mind, this was utterly ridiculous.

He had clearly studied Xiren's performance in the semi-finals carefully. That guy only managed to hold his own against Felix by relying on some insidious schemes and a body with resistance comparable to a tortoise shell, and finally won by sneak attack.

With this kind of strength, he is at most on par with Philip, and may even be no match for absolute power.

Being mocked so pitifully by someone he considered an ant made Marshall feel that his dignity as a knight's squire had been trampled into the mud.

But he couldn't afford to make a scene now, after all, this was the important grounds of Bath Abbey, and his two instructors were still waiting outside.

Taking a deep breath of the icy air, Marshall forcibly suppressed the anger in his heart, slowly closed his eyes, and began to circulate his proud "Whistling Rhythm".

This is an extremely rare and domineering breathing technique. Unlike ordinary techniques that only focus on the movement of qi and blood, the Whistling Rhythm has a unique expertise in the purification and refinement of qi.

As the exercise progressed, Marshall's chest began to rise and fall at a peculiar frequency, each breath accompanied by an extremely subtle whistling sound, like a gale passing through a canyon.

He closed his eyes tightly, immersing himself entirely in perceiving his surroundings.

Soon, he felt the pure energy flowing continuously from this natural ice pool.

The energy, like countless icy fish, darted joyfully into his flesh through his open pores, only to be brutally crushed and purified by the domineering, surging power, before finally converging into his dantian.

This exhilarating feeling of being filled with power made Marshall feel extremely satisfied, and a slightly intoxicated smile gradually appeared on his originally tense face.

He couldn't help but move his strong body closer to the depths of the pool, trying to draw in more concentrated energy.

However, as his perception extended downwards, an overwhelming sense of regret welled up within him.

"What a pity—" Marshall sighed inwardly.

He could clearly sense that the true essence of this ice pool, the extreme cold energy that had accumulated over countless years, was all stored in the deepest part of the pool.

The temperature there was terrifyingly low. Even with his well-trained body, if he were to recklessly venture in, his blood would freeze instantly, and his internal organs might even be damaged.

According to his mentor Rick's teachings, in order to absorb the essence at the bottom of the pool, one must not be too hasty. One must peel an onion, starting from the surface and slowly refining it layer by layer.

Using one's own warmth and energy to neutralize the cold requires at least three or four hours of hard work before one can safely reach the most essential part.

"Take your time. Anyway, that pool of essence is destined to be mine." Marshall sneered inwardly.

As he was pondering, he caught a glimpse of something unbelievable out of the corner of his eye.

Not far in front of him, Xilun, who had only his head above the water, did not stay on the surface to refine like him. Instead, like an iron top that had lost its buoyancy, he slowly and silently sank into the depths of the pool.

Gurgle.

A tiny bubble burst on the surface of the water, and Xilun's short black hair disappeared completely into the churning white mist and the deep blue pool.

Marshall suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils contracted sharply, and he was completely stunned.

"Are you crazy?!"

His mind went blank for a moment.

The temperature of the outer layer of this cold pool was already excruciatingly high for first-level baptismal subjects; the deeper one went, the more the coldness increased exponentially.

How could that guy possibly dare to go so far in there?

Even if we assume that Xilun's body is as hard as iron as rumored and can withstand such extreme low temperatures, there is no air underwater!

In an environment where you need to consume a lot of oxygen to maintain blood circulation and resist the cold, how do you breathe?

Ordinary people can't even hold their breath for a minute in icy water. Even extraordinary individuals, though powerful, would never be able to perform high-intensity cultivation techniques underwater for an extended period without the aid of special mystical tools.

Suddenly, Marshall's mind was filled with the chillingly calm words Siron had spoken before he went into the water.

"After all, you're the challenger!"

"If you still only have the pitiful strength you showed in the semifinals, beating someone like you would be incredibly boring."

Could it be that the other party is really hiding something?

Once this thought took root in his mind, it spread like a poisonous vine, leaving him no choice but to have doubts.

Time passed second by second, and only the sound of water gently rippling remained in the cold underground cave.

One minute — Two minutes — Three minutes —

Especially when five minutes passed and the water remained as calm as a mirror, without the slightest sound of struggle, the water was still calm.

Marshall could no longer concentrate. He repeatedly forced himself to stop the whistling rhythm, opened his bloodshot eyes, and stared intently at the spot where Xilun had sunk.

The deep blue pool was bottomless, like a giant maw capable of swallowing everything, silently mocking his ignorance and anxiety.

There was no sound, nothing at all.

Marshall found it increasingly difficult to shake off his unease, and a feeling of panic began to take root in his chest.

Is this guy named Xilun truly hiding something, possessing some terrifying trump card that Xilun can't comprehend? Or is this arrogant fool simply drowned or frozen to death at the bottom of this pool in order to show off in front of him?

Reason told him that the latter was more likely.

After all, how could a newcomer who had just been baptized a little over a month ago possibly have the ability to cultivate at the bottom of an ice pool?

Although he found it hard to believe that the other party was truly hiding their true abilities, the deathly silence beneath the surface and the five-minute-long, silent lurking made him seem to have no choice but to believe it.

If Xilun were truly dead, his body should have floated on the water's surface, or at least there should have been ripples indicating the dissipation of his vital energy.

"Damn it! Damn it! Ignore him, Marshall, guard your mind!"

Marshall roared inwardly, forcing himself to close his eyes and redirect his energy.

But he found that his mind was in turmoil.

The once smooth and flowing rhythm now seemed somewhat sluggish, and the originally gentle and cold energy around him seemed to sense the wavering in his heart, becoming violent and unruly.

I really can...

Will you defeat him in the finals?

Once this thought took root, it made Marshall feel increasingly annoyed.

He was raging and struggling, unable to accept any of this!

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