Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The training room was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood.

The air is damp and cold, and the temperature is low.

A light drizzle began to fall outside.

Xilun was shirtless, his strong muscles gleaming like cold, hard steel under the dim gaslight.

He stood quietly in the center of the room, holding the heavy rifle made of military-grade alloy in his hand.

The gun was cold, and its heavy weight traveled through the lines of his palm, yet it gave him an unprecedented sense of security.

The ancient diagrams from "Natan Heavy Gun Technique" kept replaying in his mind.

Every line, every exertion posture, has been deeply imprinted in his muscle memory.

In particular, his move of combining spear energy into one, which he used as "Severing the Flow of Water," condensed the spear tip into a single breath, making it expansive, powerful, and incomparably domineering.

"The transmission of power is fine, and the burst of qi and blood is sufficient, but..."

Xilun frowned slightly, a thoughtful look flashing in his deep eyes.

He took a deep breath, and the "Great Ocean Whale Guiding Technique" within his body suddenly began to operate, with a massive surge of blood and qi, like a deep-sea undercurrent, coursing through his limbs and bones.

Immediately afterward, he had a thought and connected with the strange energy hidden deep within his flesh and blood—charge enrichment.

zizi.

Tiny, silvery-blue arcs of electricity shot out from his palm without warning, spreading wildly along the black alloy gun barrel.

In the blink of an eye, the 2.4-meter-long spear was enveloped by a layer of violent lightning network.

The air was suddenly filled with a pungent smell of ozone, and the surrounding temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

This training room is indeed a bit cramped for long spears.

Xilun barely managed to get into position, his feet firmly planted on the ground like the roots of an old tree.

He closed his eyes, his Far Listening Talent silently opening, capturing every tiny tremor of the surrounding airflow.

The next moment, he suddenly opened his eyes, his waist suddenly exerted force, and his spine, like a fully drawn bow, channeled violent power through his arms.

"The water supply has stopped!"

Xilun murmured to himself.

He channeled the full fifty units of electrical charge accumulated in his body, without reservation, through the force of the interrupted water flow, and frantically rushed towards the tip of the spear.

boom!

The air was violently torn apart, producing a deafening bang.

The jet-black spear tip, carrying a dazzling silver-blue lightning flash, plunged into the custom-made solid wood stake in front of it with an unparalleled momentum.

This wooden stake was made by soaking overseas ironwood in a mixture of alchemical potions, making it extremely tough. Even a top-level expert among the first-tier baptists would need to put in considerable effort to completely destroy it.

However, the moment the spear tip pierced through, fifty units of charge erupted like a flood bursting its banks.

Blinding lightning flashed in the cramped room, and violent currents raged wildly along the grain of the wooden stake.

With a teeth-grinding sizzling sound, the surface of the incredibly hard ironwood stake instantly turned charred black, as if it had been thrown into a steel furnace and roasted, emitting a strong burnt smell.

Xilun slowly retracted his spear, and as the spear tip left the wooden stake, a wisp of smoke rose from it.

He stared intently and saw that although the charred wooden stake still maintained its general shape, the wood fibers inside had clearly become brittle and shattered under the extreme heat and destructive force of the lightning.

A gentle breeze blew in from the exhaust vent.

Splash!

The once indestructible wooden stake turned into black dust in the breeze, completely disappearing into the air, leaving only a scorched mark on the ground.

Xilun squinted, examining the dust on the ground, a faint smile curving his lips.

He nodded slightly. What a powerful move! It perfectly combined the physical penetration of the water flow with the elemental destruction of the electric charge talent. The power of this attack far exceeded the comprehension of ordinary first-tier extraordinary beings.

For the remainder of the ten-day holiday, Xilun hardly left the house.

He was like a tireless, precise machine, practicing this move tediously and frantically every day in this cramped training room.

Each thrust, each release and re-accumulation of electrical charge, honed his meticulous control over power.

Meanwhile, during his breaks from resting after exhausting himself, he didn't idle around.

He opened the magic book and began to study it thoughtfully.

Generally speaking, extraordinary individuals who follow the path of Qi and Blood Martial Arts will never concurrently practice mystical techniques.

That not only requires extremely high mental talent, but also consumes a huge amount of time and resources, often resulting in being unsuccessful in both aspects.

However, the situation in Xilun is quite different.

The difficulty in cultivating the magical rope technique he practiced lay mostly in how to use his mental energy to nurture and weave the rope.

His spiritual rope was readily available, obtained directly from the spoils of war.

This means that he doesn't need to expend any resources to cultivate this technique; he only needs to continuously practice the compatibility between the incantation and his mental power to unleash its immense power.

This is like adding wings to a tiger for melee extraordinary individuals who have extremely limited control over their combat abilities.

Siren sat cross-legged on the cold floor, repeatedly dismantling and reassembling the incantation of the spiritual rope in his mind.

He silently pondered the resonance between each syllable of the pronunciation and the fluctuations of his spiritual power.

Currently, his magic rope has reached a proficient level, and it only takes one second of chanting to activate.

A second is just a blink of an eye to the average person.

But in the eyes of a high-level extraordinary individual engaged in a life-or-death struggle, one second is enough for the opponent to plunge a blade into their heart three times.

"If it could be even less, even just 0.5 seconds, it could be a life-or-death trump card in a critical moment," Xilun thought to himself.

Time flew by in this state of intense focus and practice.

For Xiren, who was immersed in power enhancement, the ten-day holiday seemed like a fleeting dream.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the smog of the lower city, Xilun, already dressed and carrying the alloy spear disguised as a black umbrella, arrived at Red Leaf Manor once again.

The manor's hall remained spacious and quiet.

Xilun sat quietly on the expensive leather sofa, his back ramrod straight.

The silver-haired butler approached with an exquisite bone china tea set and gracefully poured him a steaming cup of black tea.

"Thank you." Xilun picked up his teacup, took a small sip, and politely expressed his gratitude.

His voice was calm, without any emotional fluctuation.

The butler looked at the young man before him, who was so composed it was almost frightening, and smiled gently:

"Lord Lund rarely puts so much effort into people. It seems that you, Mr. Sir Lund, are truly valued by him."

Xilun thoughtfully put down his teacup, his eyes flickering slightly.

He certainly knew the weight behind this high regard, but he also had some doubts.

"Butler, if I remember correctly, doesn't Lord Lund have four disciples?" Siren asked softly.

The butler bowed slightly, clasped his hands in front of him, and spoke with an undisguised sigh:

"Mr. Sir, you are unaware of the following."

Lord Lund spends most of his time on his own spiritual practice.

Although he accepted those four disciples, he basically only offered them guidance in his spare time.

The butler paused, his gaze sweeping over the valuable sculptures outside the manor, before continuing:

"After all, many of those four disciples came from noble families."

Your instruction to them is more about social etiquette and maintaining relationships, but for you…”

The butler's gaze turned serious: "Your Excellency has taught Mr. Sir Lun almost everything you know."

The effort and resources he has devoted to you are unmatched by the combined efforts of his other four disciples.

He truly sees you as his successor.

Xilun pursed his lips, and the muscles on his usually expressionless face tensed slightly.

He could clearly feel the heavy expectations and pressure conveyed in the butler's words.

In this cruel steam world, there are no gifts without a reason.

The larger Lund's investment, the more terrifying the responsibilities and risks he will have to bear in the future.

But he had no choice, and he also craved this power.

Xilun sat quietly for a while.

About half an hour later, accompanied by a slightly lazy sound of footsteps, Lund yawned and came down the stairs.

He had clearly just finished washing up, and was wearing a loose and comfortable set of plain-colored silk loungewear; his hair was still a little damp.

"You're here pretty early." Lund walked to the head seat and sat down, glancing casually at Xiren.

Xilun stood up, bowed slightly, and spoke in a respectful and calm tone:

"I didn't dare keep the teacher waiting."

Lund nodded slightly, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes:

"Keep this attitude. Actually, there's nothing particularly important that I called you here today."

He picked up the coffee the butler handed him, took a sip to moisten his throat, and then said:

"Originally, I planned to have you stay at the club for the past month to practice the basics on your own and let your recently surged energy settle down, but..."

A meaningful, cold smile curled at the corner of Lund's mouth:

"Later, I had an unexpected gain in the gutter of Saint Laurent."

I figured this was a good opportunity for you to practice your skills.

Xilun paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "An unexpected gain? Practice? Teacher, you mean...?"

Lund did not answer immediately, but stood up and walked straight toward a hidden wooden door on the side of the hall.

"Come with me."

Without hesitation, Xiren picked up his black umbrella and followed closely behind Lund.

Behind the wooden door is a narrow stone staircase leading underground.

The further they went, the darker and damper the air became. The torches on the walls flickered with a dim light, casting distorted and menacing shadows of the two men.

A strong musty smell mixed with a faint smell of blood filled my nostrils.

When they finally reached the bottom of the basement, it was pitch black all around.

Only a single gas lamp in the center emitted a faint glow.

At the center of that halo stood a massive cage made of thick, high-quality steel.

Inside the cage sat a man.

His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were tattered and covered with dried blood and mud.

He kept his head down, not uttering a word, like a soulless corpse.

But between his knees was a black dagger still in its sheath, tightly coiled.

Even while imprisoned, his hands remained tightly gripping the knife handle, his knuckles bulging with veins from the exertion.

Xilun's gaze instantly locked onto the black knife.

His pupils contracted slightly, and long-forgotten memories were instantly awakened in his mind.

He stared thoughtfully at the man's figure, and finally realized what was happening.

"Sislow..." Silen murmured the name in his heart.

Several months ago, amidst the turmoil of the Grey Hemp Pirates, Lord Wall of the Brotherhood led a team to annihilate the Sirens' Anvil.

Siren, acting as an escort, participated in a dangerous decapitation operation.

They successfully killed the Grey Hemp Pirates' first mate, but allowed the real helmsman, the man before them—the pirate captain Sislow—to escape in the chaos.

Xilun knew all too well how terrifying this man was.

Among the Grey Hemp Pirates, Sislow's name was synonymous with brutality and death.

His strength was unfathomable; the combat power he displayed during that turmoil was almost infinitely close to the pinnacle of a first-order baptized being.

If the situation hadn't been chaotic at the time, Siron would never have been qualified to stand before such a fierce figure.

Unexpectedly, this once powerful figure who dominated the seas has now become a prisoner in Professor Lund's basement.

Lund walked calmly toward the cage with his hands behind his back.

He raised his hand and gently tapped the steel railing with his knuckles.

Clang, clang!

The crisp sound of metal clashing echoed in the deathly silent basement.

The man in the cage finally stirred.

He slowly raised his head, revealing a weathered face covered in scars.

His eyes were bloodshot, yet they still shone with a fierce and unruly light, like a wild wolf.

He stared intently at Lund outside the cage, his chapped lips twitching slightly, producing a hoarse sound like sandpaper rubbing together.

"Lord Lund... why would you, a high-ranking knight, secretly capture me here like a mouse?"

Although I am a rough man, I do not believe I have ever offended you in any way.

Lund looked down at him, his eyes as calm as a stagnant pool, devoid of any pity or emotion.

"If I want to arrest you, do I need to explain any reasons to you?"

Lund's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable air of dominance.

Sislow paused for a moment, then let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

He shook his head and muttered to himself:

"That's true. In Saint Laurent City, the law of the jungle is the only truth."

"You're better than me, that's the best reason."

Lund looked at him coldly and asked in return:

"When you commanded pirates in the Grey Hemp Sea, wantonly plundering unarmed civilian merchant ships and sinking them to the bottom of the sea, did you ever explain any reasons to them?"

Sislow fell silent, his hand holding the black knife trembling slightly, as if recalling those bloody years at sea.

Lund ignored his silence and continued:

"Of course, as a knight of the Empire, I am not the kind of person who is bloodthirsty and indiscriminately kills."

I can give you a chance today. As long as you meet one of my conditions, I will open this cage and let you live.

You can leave Saint Laurent and return to your seas to continue being a wild dog.

Upon hearing the words "I'll spare your life," a fervent light of hope instantly shone from Sislow's previously lifeless eyes.

He suddenly raised his head and stared intently at Lund.

He knew very well that with Lund's current status and reputation in Saint Laurent, he would never stoop to using such a low-level lie to deceive a prisoner like him.

"Please speak plainly!"

Sislow's voice became somewhat shrill with excitement, and his hunched body leaned forward slightly, like a hungry wolf about to pounce on its prey:

"As long as I can survive, I will do whatever it takes to get it done!"