Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 171 Undefeated, Title Battle

Just then, a faint sound came from outside the door.

That was the celebration and shouts of three hundred spectators inside the venue.

They pounded on the seats, stomped their feet, and shouted the same name at the top of their lungs—Silen!

The sound pierced through the thick walls and struck Xilun's eardrums.

This weighty honor filled Xilun with a sense of trepidation, yet he also felt immensely pleased.

He closed his eyes, feeling the lingering fervor in his blood, and a strong sense of anticipation welled up within him.

I wish I could keep winning.

Always standing on high ground, overlooking all opponents.

As Xilun pondered, the doorknob of the lounge made a crisp click.

Lund pushed the door open and came in.

The third-order aberrant remained nonchalant, leaning against the doorframe and lazily yawning.

His gaze swept over Xilun's pale face, and he asked, "What else needs to be packed up?"

Xilun snapped out of his daze, casually stuffed his blood-stained clothes into his canvas bag, thought for a moment, and said, "That's about enough."

Lund nodded and said, "Then let's leave as soon as possible. The game is over. Go back, check out of the hotel, and take the train back tonight."

Xilun thought for a moment and nodded slightly.

Indeed, there is no need to stay in this city any longer.

Just as Siren picked up his canvas bag to leave, Lund suddenly asked, "The game's over. How did it go?"

Xiren stopped and thought about it seriously. The image of Marshall falling off the ring flashed through his mind. He said calmly, "It's fine."

Lund nodded slightly, a hint of admiration flashing in his deep eyes. He said slowly, "Victory is always alluring. Especially after defeat, the desire for victory is even stronger."

Xilun pursed his lips, his eyes becoming unusually determined.

He didn't want to fail, not even once.

Xilun raised his head, looked directly into his mentor's eyes, and asked, "Your Excellency, have you ever failed?"

Lund was taken aback at first, then calmly said, "Of course, not just me, everyone will fail."

Failure is a constant throughout life.

He walked to the window, looked at the sky gradually darkening outside, and his voice became somewhat distant: "If a person always wins, it means that he is always challenging the expected goal."

Only by constantly pushing the limits can one always fail.

Because he was never content with the status quo and always hoped to see a higher view.

Xilun pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, and stubbornly asked, "But I don't want to lose."

Upon hearing this, Lund suddenly burst into laughter, his cheerful laughter echoing loudly in the lounge.

"You'll get used to it once you experience failure."

He turned around, his expression more serious than ever before. "Do you know the pinnacle of knighthood?"

Siren shook his head; he knew very little about the power structure of the Victorian Empire's upper echelons.

Lund said in a deep voice, "The pinnacle of knighthood is the title battle, especially the title of Prince."

"To obtain even one of the three most prestigious princely titles would earn one the title of 'Your Highness' from all the people of Victoria."

Lund continued, "If you can truly remain undefeated, then you might be able to achieve something that few others can accomplish."

Xilun was taken aback, his heart skipping a beat for no apparent reason: "What do you mean?"

Lund's gaze turned fervent and profound as he slowly said, "If one can maintain an undefeated record while challenging for the titles of the three princes, and ultimately obtain the title of prince, one can be honored as the Undefeated Prince."

"And if you can win all three at the same time, you will have all of Victoria, the ultimate achievement being an undefeated triple crown."

At this point, Lund subconsciously shook his head, a hint of regret and mockery flashing in his eyes: "Unfortunately, it's almost impossible for anyone to hold three titles at the same time."

"Why?" Xilun pressed.

"Because the assessment criteria for the three titles are completely different, and the judges are also different."

Lund sneered, "The judgment will be made by the nobility, the royal family, and the church respectively."

These three forces have been checking and balancing each other for over a century, and they could not possibly allow a triple crown prince to be born who would be above everyone else.

That means the unity of absolute power and faith.

Xilun was greatly amazed after hearing this.

It turns out that there is such a magnificent secret on this vast imperial land.

Titles! Undefeated! Treble!

However, that kind of scenery is far too far removed from my current life.

He hadn't even fully secured his status as an Extraordinary Being yet, and those high-ranking nobles and royalty were like gods in the clouds to him.

His most pressing concern right now is the junior knight fighting tournament in just over four months; that's the foundation for him to establish himself in Saint Laurent City.

Lund walked over, patted Xiren heavily on the shoulder, and encouraged him, "You did well this time. Get some rest when you get back."

After saying that, he put his hands in his pockets and left the lounge.

Xilun took a deep breath and followed him outside.

In the corridor outside, many spectators and staff who had not yet dispersed were enthusiastically discussing Xiren's name and the shocking upset of the match.

Xiren lowered the brim of his hat to avoid the enthusiastic gazes and quickly walked out of the stadium.

When Xiren returned to the cheap hourly hotel, he couldn't help but recall his first day there.

It was around noon, the sun was shining brightly, neither too hot nor too cold, and a gentle breeze was blowing.

He walked up the creaking wooden steps, explained his situation to the landlord, and cancelled his long-term rental.

After receiving the receipt, he paid the fee and went to his room.

I spent my first night outside of Saint Laurent here.

He trained here for about twenty days, exhausting his physical strength every day and enduring the excruciating pain of bone growth every night.

These days are truly unforgettable.

Xiren stared at the data panel on his retina that only he could see.

In just twenty days, the "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique" had advanced to the second level, and the strength of his Qi and blood had more than doubled.

Other fighting styles, whether it's the Dorok Dark Claw Technique or the Berello Kick Technique, have also made significant progress.

Without such a significant improvement in his physical foundation, he would have found it difficult to overpower Marshall with his explosive performance today.

Xilun let out a breath and carefully checked his belongings before taking them with him.

A few changes of clothes, that cold, heavy revolver of resentment, and the dark red magic rope wrapped around his wrist.

Then, he pulled up his collar, took one last deep look at the small room, and turned to leave.

Having come to this unfamiliar city, I left behind an unforgettable memory, etching my name with my fists and blood.

Even now, he doesn't even know the name of the city.

In the back alley of the Pioneer Cup venue, the afterglow of the setting sun dyed the gray-white brick walls a blood red.

When Xilun left, he didn't notice the two people standing in the shadows deep in the alley.

At the entrance, an elderly man with a wrinkled face leaned against the wall, took a deep drag on a cheap cigarette, and then slowly exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke.

The smoke twisted and dissipated in mid-air, just like his complex emotions at that moment.

"A remarkable young man," the old man Rick remarked sincerely, gazing in the direction where Xilun had disappeared.

Standing next to him was Marshall, who had just been defeated in the ring.

At this moment, Marshall's massive body seemed to have shrunk, covered in dust and sawdust.

His face fell, his eyes twitched slightly with anger and humiliation, and his heavy breathing sounded particularly jarring in the quiet alley.

"Teacher, this time it was just luck!"

Marshall growled through gritted teeth, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, "If I had been on guard, hadn't given him that opening, hadn't been provoked, I would have won ten times over!"

He's no match for me in terms of strength!

Old man Rick turned his head, looked coldly at his proud and talented disciple, and slowly shook his head.

"But it was that guy named Siron, who was so much younger than you and had been baptized less than six months ago, who beat you."

Rick's voice wasn't loud, but it struck Marshall like a hammer blow to the chest: "Even if it's by exploiting the rules, even if it's by scheming, a win is a win."

Marshall opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but Rick waved him off.

The old man calmly said, "The extraordinary path emphasizes momentum."

Having a strong will and making the right judgment at crucial moments is the key to determining life and death, victory and defeat.

"Marshall, as my student, I think I know you fairly well."

Rick stepped forward, extended his withered fingers, and tapped them heavily on Marshall's broad chest.

"In the final match, you have at least several opportunities to turn the tide and win."

As long as you calm down and maintain your balance, his explosive performance won't last a minute.

But you didn't seize any of it. You were angered by his words and intimidated by his desperate actions.

Marshall lowered his head, a hint of shame and pain flashing in his eyes.

"On the contrary, it's Xilun,"

Rick sighed, his gaze becoming incredibly profound. "In a hundred games, he might lose to you ninety-nine times."

But he always manages to seize that last chance and win against you.

That's what makes him so terrifying; he's like a starving wolf, and if you even peek out a sliver of your throat, he'll bite it off without hesitation.

The old man sighed for a long time, seemingly recalling the thrilling dozen or so breaths that had just taken place on the stage.

Suddenly, as if he remembered something extremely disgusting, he angrily threw the cigarette butt in his hand on the ground and crushed it, cursing loudly, "Damn it! Beating someone so tough!"

Next time I run into Lund, that old bastard will definitely bring this up! You've completely disgraced me!

Marshall shuddered, lowered his head even further, and remained silent.

Meanwhile, inside the venue.

The noisy crowd has gradually dispersed, leaving behind discarded ticket stubs and beverage bottles scattered all over the ground.

The event manager arrived late, wiping the cold sweat pouring down his forehead with a white handkerchief, thinking to himself how busy the day of the finals would be, with all sorts of sponsor and VIP engagements keeping him constantly on the go.

He tidied up the competition data and prize money distribution records in his hand, and quickly walked through the long corridor to the door of the owner, Kellen's, office.

The manager took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and gently knocked on the door.

"Come in." A deep, resonant voice came from inside.

A moment later, the door opened.

When the manager went inside, he found the owner, Kellen, sitting cross-legged in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

A faint scent of sandalwood filled the room, and with Kellen's breathing, subtle air currents swirled, revealing the profound depth of this seasoned extraordinary individual.

Upon hearing the sound, Kellen slowly opened her eyes, her gaze sharp as a hawk's.

He asked, "Is the Pioneer Cup over?"

The manager nodded quickly and said respectfully, "Everything went smoothly, Master. The prize money has been distributed, and the audience's response was extremely enthusiastic."

Kellen nodded slightly and casually asked, "How's Marshall doing? That kid has a bad temper, did he manage to cripple his opponent?"

The manager paused, his expression turning somewhat strange. He stammered, "You said—it's actually quite fine. Marshall doesn't have any injuries."

On the contrary—on the contrary, Xiren looked quite badly injured, his internal organs seemed to have suffered a severe shock.

Kellen nodded slightly and said matter-of-factly, "Lund's new disciple has performed quite well. It has exceeded my expectations that he has made it to the finals."

His foundation is a bit weak. If he trained for another year, he might be able to exchange a few blows with Marshall, but he's definitely not ready now.

The owner muttered to himself, picked up the teacup on the table, and took a sip.

Only then did he notice the manager's strange gaze, an awkward look of wanting to say something but holding back.

Kellen frowned, put down her teacup, and asked, "What's wrong? Is there anything else you haven't explained?"

Manager Shan smiled and said with a forced smile, "Master—the winner of the finals is Xilun."

Marshall — was knocked off the ring by Siren.

What?!

""

The owner, Kellen, was taken aback. The teacup in his hand suddenly stopped, and tea splashed onto the expensive carpet.

He instantly became serious, and his previously peaceful aura turned sharp.

"Tell me the details. Every single word!"

The manager wiped his sweat and then recounted everything that had happened on the stage in detail.

From Silen's initial abandonment of defense to the explosive burst of energy during the breathing exercise, and finally using the opponent's momentum to kick Marshall out of bounds, nothing was overlooked.

Kellen pondered for a long time, listening intently, her fingers unconsciously tapping on the mahogany table.

After a moment, he sighed softly, the shock in his eyes gradually turning into admiration: "You performed exceptionally well. To find the only way out in a desperate situation and execute it without hesitation. Marshall's loss was not unjust."

He said calmly, "It seems Lund has taken on a good disciple."

The Iron Cross Club is about to steal the spotlight again.

The manager cautiously reminded him, "Master, according to the information, this guy named Xilun is not Lund's formal disciple."

He's currently just a nominal peripheral student.

Upon hearing this, Kellen suddenly laughed, her laughter revealing a hint of cunning.

"Not now, but soon it will be."

Kellen stood up, walked to the window and looked down at the street below. "Lund has always hoped for a disciple with the potential to surpass him."

After all, he felt that it would be boring if his apprentices never had a chance to surpass their masters.

The manager was stunned, his mouth agape in surprise: "Could this guy named Xilun have the potential to become a high-ranking knight?"

The curator pondered for a moment, then shook his head: "It's hard to say. The path to extraordinary success is full of uncertainties, and countless geniuses perish along the way."

But—he still has a chance.

He turned to the manager and said, "Here's what you'd like, check the contestant's registration information and see his address."

I'll choose a gift to take with me.

Kellen returned to the table, took out a gold-plated fountain pen, and scribbled on the fine stationery for a while.

He folded the letter and handed it to the manager, instructing, "Tell the people to go to the warehouse, pick out two bottles of high-quality deep-sea nutrients, pack them up, and send them over."

Just say, "Congratulations on Xilun's victory. It never hurts to make a good connection."

The manager nodded slightly, accepted the letter with both hands, and respectfully left the office.

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