Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 169 Provocation, Rampage

Xilun narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

A brief burst of energy can yield exponentially more explosive power.

This sounds like a killer move tailor-made for ring battles.

"This method has very little practical value in life-or-death battles."

Lund seemed to see through Xilun's thoughts and poured cold water on them, "Because when facing an enemy of the same level, even if you go berserk, it is difficult to kill the opponent completely in just a few breaths."

Once the rampage ends, you will be extremely weak and at the mercy of others.

"But ring battles are different." Lund's lips curled into a cold smile. "Ring battles don't require you to kill anyone. You just need to use absolute power to blast Marshall off the ring in those few breaths of rampage!"

A flash of understanding crossed Xilun's eyes.

"Now look at me."

Lund stopped wasting time and began to demonstrate the "breathing" process himself.

Lund slowly inhaled, his chest rising slightly.

Suddenly, his movements abruptly stopped, as if an invisible shackle had locked his throat and pores.

"Feel the flow of energy within me with your hands," Lund said through gritted teeth, sounding somewhat suppressed.

Siren immediately stepped forward and placed his palm on Lund's chest and abdomen.

In an instant, Xilun felt that Lund's originally stable blood and qi were like boiling water with its outlet blocked, and began to surge and churn wildly.

The violent force was constantly compressed within the blocked acupoints, emitting a faint rumbling sound.

Xilun closed his eyes and, relying on the keen perception brought by Yuanling, firmly imprinted the route of this rampaging energy into his mind.

A few seconds later, Lund opened his mouth and exhaled a breath of hot, stale air, and the turmoil within him subsided instantly.

"Have you memorized the whole route?" Lund asked.

"I've got it." Xilun withdrew his hand and nodded.

"Very good." Lund pointed to the black stone door next to him. "Now you will enter the gravity chamber and begin to get used to this state of extreme stress."

In an environment with double gravity, each breath becomes more difficult, which can accelerate your mastery of "breathing".

Meanwhile, this kind of gravity chamber is generally used to temper the body, and it's quite effective in consolidating the results of your ice pool training.

He glanced at his pocket watch and added, "However, my authority only allows you to apply for 20 hours of use in the gravity chamber."

Over the next five days, four hours each day, how far you can go depends on your own efforts.

Xilun nodded slightly and, without any hesitation, reached out and pushed open the heavy stone door.

The interior was pitch black, with only the runes on the walls shimmering with a faint, eerie light.

Xilun stepped into it.

"boom!"

The stone door slammed shut behind him.

In an instant, Xilun felt an invisible, immense, and suffocating force pressing down on him from all directions.

His shoulders slumped suddenly, his knees bent slightly, and even his breathing became like swallowing coarse sand.

In this environment, even simply raising your arm requires three times the usual effort.

Xilun took a deep breath, his eyes becoming incredibly resolute.

He closed his eyes, followed the route taught by Lund, inhaled deeply, and then suddenly blocked the acupoints.

"boom!"

His internal energy surged wildly, the violent force rampaging through his meridians, bringing a tearing pain.

Xiren gritted his teeth and, under this double pressure, slowly assumed the starting stance of the "Berello Kick Technique".

Five hellish days have officially begun.

The air inside the gravity chamber seemed to solidify into a tangible substance.

Xilun was shirtless, his entire body enveloped in thick white mist.

The sweat just seeped out of the pores and was instantly evaporated by the high temperature emanating from the skin.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The dull whistling sound echoed continuously in the cramped stone chamber. Every time Xilun threw a punch, every time he kicked out with a heavy kick, it was as if he were carrying an invisible mountain on his back.

He is practicing martial arts while in a "breathing" state.

He pressed his breath firmly into his chest and abdomen, letting the surging blood and qi run rampant in his meridians.

The feeling was like swallowing a red-hot razor blade, with your internal organs enduring unimaginable burning and tearing sensations.

It's very uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable.

Even though Xilun possessed the formidable defense of "Coiled Dragon," and even though the "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique" was constantly repairing his damaged body, the destructive power erupting from within still made him feel dizzy.

What he had to do was not only get used to this pain, but also maintain precision and lethality in his movements under this double burden.

"Again!"

Xiren let out a low, beast-like growl in his heart.

He forced down the metallic taste rising in his throat, and his right leg, like a battle axe, tore through the heavy air, slashing fiercely into the void.

For the next five days, Xilun seemed to have turned into a tireless machine.

He enters the gravity chamber every day on time and endures four hours of inhuman torture.

Every time he walked out of the stone gate, he looked as if he had just been pulled out of a pool of blood, his steps unsteady and his face pale. In just four hours, all his energy was completely drained.

But the light in his eyes grew colder and sharper.

During these five days, Xilun completely disappeared from the outside world.

However, discussions about the Vanguard Cup finals were churning like boiling water in the taverns, underground casinos, and among the extraordinary individuals of Saint Laurent City.

No one cared where Xiren went, because in the eyes of most spectators, the outcome of this final was already a foregone conclusion.

"Have you heard? Marshall has won nine straight! If he wins this one, he'll be one of the few champions in the Vanguard Cup to achieve a ten-game winning streak!"

In a bustling tavern, a man with a full beard took a big gulp of cheap ale and shouted loudly.

"Ten consecutive wins—that's terrifying."

The last monster with a ten-game winning streak was probably the year before last, right?

Those nearby gasped, their eyes filled with awe.

"To be honest, I don't have a high opinion of that kid named Xilun."

Another mercenary in leather armor shook his head, offering a detailed analysis: "I watched the fight he had with Philip."

His biggest advantage is his physical resilience, coupled with a bit of unexpected cleverness.

But can even the strongest physical body be stronger than a monster like Marshall, who is comparable to a raging bear?

'

"That's right! Marshall's Bear Fighting Technique is famously domineering."

Xiren had already given it his all to beat Filipe Lucas, revealing all his trump cards.

He definitely wouldn't last ten rounds against Marshall!

In a corner, Rejesty, who had once been defeated by Xiren, silently drank his sorrows away.

Listening to the discussions around him, his eyes held a complex expression.

Although he had hoped that Xilun could win all the way to save face after his defeat, he could only sigh helplessly in the face of the absolute difference in strength, believing that Xilun was bound to lose this time.

Regardless of public opinion on Silen and Marshall, time continues to move forward relentlessly.

Finally, the seventh day arrived.

That is, the day of the final.

Although this competition targeting first-tier extraordinary individuals wouldn't have a significant impact on the entire city, it did cause a small-scale sensation within the lower-level extraordinary individual community.

At 1 p.m., Xilun arrived at the competition venue by horse-drawn carriage.

As he stepped down from the carriage, he immediately attracted the attention of the surrounding crowd.

Some of the club's lower-ranking members and a small number of his supporters crowded outside the police line, shouting his name.

"Silen! Take down that big guy!"

"Let them see the might of the Iron Cross!"

With a blank expression, Xiren simply nodded slightly to the crowd before being escorted by security personnel into the stadium.

After arriving at his private rest room, Xilun took off his coat and changed into a clean and neat black training outfit.

The room was quiet, with only the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Xilun sat on the bench, his hands clasped together, silently pondering his next strategy.

Despite spending six days in the gravity chamber, he had become very proficient in the "breathing" technique, and his body had gradually adapted to the violent load.

But the situation in the ring is unpredictable, and facing a formidable opponent like Marshall with deep experience, he really couldn't say how much he could perform on the stage.

He closed his eyes, silently recalling the battle strategies he had devised over the past few days, and began his final simulated battle.

Meanwhile, in the lounge at the other end of the corridor.

Marshall paced back and forth in the room like a trapped beast.

His face was irritable, and his eyes gleamed with a murderous light that seemed ready to devour anyone.

He glanced across at the direction of the Westren lounge, veins bulging on his thick neck, and muttered a curse: "That damn slum bastard—he humiliated me at the Ice Pool before, and still dared to spout some big talk to scare me!"

This time, I'm going to break two of his ribs with my own hands in the ring and make him kneel on the ground licking the soles of my shoes!

Marshall coldly planned to use the most cruel and violent means to completely tear apart Siron's proud body in front of the entire audience.

Sitting on the sofa, mentor Rick frowned slightly, but he couldn't help but advise, "Marshall, control your emotions."

Even a lion uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit; never underestimate your opponent.

"Since that Xiren made it to the finals, he must have some exceptional qualities."

After listening to his mentor's words, Marshall slightly raised his eyelids and let out a disdainful snort.

Clearly, he did not take his mentor's warning to heart.

In his view, spiritual practice is a gradual process of progress over many years, an accumulation of effort that wears away stone with persistent dripping.

Even if Xilun had some extraordinary encounter in just six or seven days, it wouldn't change the difference in strength by much.

"Please welcome our two contestants to the stage!"

The referee's loud shouts came from outside the door.

Marshall cracked his neck, producing a sickening popping sound. He pushed open the door and walked step by step toward the arena.

His pace was neither hurried nor slow, but each step seemed to carry immense force, filled with a heavy sense of oppression.

The secondary stadium, which can accommodate 300 people, is now packed to capacity.

The deafening noise nearly lifted the dome off its height.

When Marshall's massive figure appeared at the entrance to the passageway, the atmosphere in the entire stadium was instantly ignited.

But then, many of the audience members in the front row involuntarily held their breath.

Even from a distance, they could feel a suffocating, oppressive aura emanating from Marshall, as if they were facing a real wild bear.

Those who knew Marshall's strength were secretly worried for Xiren.

In their view, the only chance for Celan to win is to pray that Marshall is not in good condition today, or that he suddenly falls ill.

After all, most of the time, the miracle of the weak defeating the strong requires the opponent to be in extremely poor condition.

However, the reality is cruel.

Marshall's eyes were shining, his blood was surging, and he was in extremely good condition.

In the VIP section of the stands, Lund slowly exhaled a smoke ring and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

He leaned back in his chair, gazing at the brightly lit arena below, and closed his eyes slightly.

"So be it, we lost."

Lund thought to himself, "As long as that kid doesn't crush my confidence or hurt my pride, it'll be fine."

Although he had subjected Siren to grueling training over the past six days, reason told him that it was a slim chance to defeat Marshall, who was on a nine-game winning streak and whose physique was comparable to a low-level mutant, in a head-on match.

Just then, a cheer erupted from inside the stadium, mixed with boos.

Lund opened his eyes and looked in the direction of Xiren's lounge.

A young man came out.

He was dressed in black training clothes, tall and upright, with a sharply defined face that exuded a coolness beyond his years.

His five fingers were slender and long, with distinct knuckles, and swayed rhythmically with his steps.

Ignoring the clamor of the surrounding audience, Xiren calmly walked up the steps to the ring.

The two stood in the center of the ring, less than three meters apart.

Marshall looked down at Xilen with a cruel grin spreading across his face and sneered first, "Kid, let's hope your mouth is still as hard as it was six days ago in the ice pool."

Xiren slightly raised his head, and a glint of arrogance and contempt flashed in his dark eyes, a glint even more intense than Marshall's.

Instead of adopting any defensive stance, he spread his legs wide, raised his right hand slowly, and beckoned Marshall with his index finger.

"You can attack now."

Xilun held his head high, his tone as indifferent as if he were ordering around a beggar on the street.

Upon hearing this, the entire audience was momentarily stunned.

Even the referee standing to the side stared wide-eyed at Xilen in disbelief.

How dare they be so arrogant and provocative when facing a formidable opponent like Marshall? Are they insane?!

Seeing this, Lund in the stands couldn't help but yawn, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

"This kid is a master of psychological warfare."

Hopefully, that stupid bear Marshall will take the bait.

On the ring, upon hearing these words, Marshall's already suppressed anger erupted as if hot oil had been poured on it.

"Who do you think you are!"

Marshall roared, his voice booming, "You think you're worthy of letting me make the first move?!"

Xilun let out a chilling laugh that was not loud, but it clearly reached Marshall's ears.

"That's true." Xilun shook his head slightly, his eyes filled with pity. "A stray dog ​​like you, who only deserves to wallow in the mud, has no right to fight me at all."

Expecting you to have the courage to challenge me is really asking too much of you.

Marshall's eyes widened; he could hardly believe his ears.

In the extraordinary circles of Saint Laurent City, no one has ever dared to use the word "wild dog" to describe him!

Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, his previously volatile expression turning somber, his voice so cold it seemed to freeze: "Fine—very well...you think you can handle this?"

"Just me."

Xilun responded calmly with three words.

He slowly clenched his fist, and his aura began to grow at an eerie pace.

Marshall stared intently at Siren, completely unaware that Siren's aura posed little threat to him.

He stopped thinking about any tactics and disregarded any consequences; only one thought remained in his mind: to tear this arrogant bastard in front of him to shreds!