Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Just as the atmosphere inside the room was becoming so oppressive that it was about to freeze, a series of extremely hurried, even somewhat panicked footsteps, accompanied by the sound of splashing rain, suddenly came from the street outside.

With a bang, the club's doors were suddenly pushed open.

A communications boy, dressed in simple coarse linen clothes and soaked with sweat and rain, rushed in like a cannonball.

He stumbled and nearly fell, but clung tightly to the doorframe, his voice hoarse as he roared with all his might:

"Great news! Fantastic news! The Cavaliers' game is officially over!"

Tongzi took a deep breath, his voice shrill and distorted: "The champion... is a fighter from our Iron Cross Fighting Club! It's Senior Brother Xilun!"

boom!

Everyone in the room was stunned for a moment, their brains seemingly short-circuiting.

Immediately, the bald, second-tier extraordinary teacher stood up abruptly like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and the solid wood chair beneath him was thrown out and smashed against the wall.

He rushed to the boy, grabbed him by the shoulder, his lips trembling violently, and roared incoherently:

"Are you...are you sure?! You're not lying, are you?! Is it really Xilun? Did Xilun defeat that monster Ross and win the championship?!"

Tongzi was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently. After all, he had taken advantage of the chaos after the competition ended to run all the way back from the Dayu Dojo, which was dozens of miles away.

He swallowed hard and said firmly:

"Absolutely true! I swear on my life! Senior Brother Xilun and that guy named Ross fought to the very last second in the ruins, until they ran out of ammunition and supplies!"

"Finally... Ross fell into a coma! Senior Brother Xilun stood to the end and won!"

"Lord Fowles has personally announced the champion as Sir Simon's choice! That arrogant Rose can only settle for second place!"

Tongzi continued excitedly, "Also, Li An, representing the Silver Hand, didn't even attend the third-place match due to a serious injury, so Blackthorn Club's Cole came in third, and the Silver Hand dropped directly to fourth!"

These words were like a bombshell detonating in the deep sea.

The entire dilapidated clubhouse was instantly engulfed in a frenzy of excitement and madness, with cheers erupting as if to rip the roof off.

The hall echoed with the trainees' frantic shouts: "We won! We won!"

"Damn! Iron Cross is the champion! We are the champions of Saint Laurent City!"

In the middle of the crowd, those usually dignified and rigid second-level teachers were now all flushed, with veins bulging on their necks, excitedly waving their arms and legs like children.

"Great! Great! That's wonderful!"

The bald teacher tilted his head back and let out a hearty laugh, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face.

He fumbled in his somewhat empty pockets for a while, and with a mixture of extreme pain and generosity, he pulled out a one-pound note.

He forcefully stuffed the banknotes into the boy's muddy hands and loudly praised him:

"You rascal, this is a great delivery of good news! This is a reward for you!"

Seeing this, the other teachers nearby didn't hesitate either, taking out their spare change and coins and handing them over with a clatter.

The messenger suddenly felt a weight in his hand. Looking down, he saw that he had received a generous reward of four pounds and more than a dozen shillings, which was equivalent to more than a month's worth of hard work. He was overjoyed and bowed repeatedly.

The bald teacher, still not satisfied, grabbed the boy's arm and said urgently:

"Keep the money safe. Come sit down here, and tell us the whole story of the match!"

These teachers, burdened with heavy teaching duties or unwilling to pay for tickets, were unable to attend the event in person and can only listen to others recount their experiences.

The boy took a sip of water handed to him by someone next to him to moisten his throat, and then began to speak fluently and eloquently.

He added highly subjective rhetoric, vividly describing the clash of swords and spears and the flashing of lightning between the two fighters on the ring.

That night, the usually lifeless Iron Cross Club was unusually brightly decorated, the aroma of cheap, low-quality beer filled the air, and the sounds of revelry echoed throughout half of the slum, creating a lively atmosphere.

It was completely different from the noisy revelry in the downtown area.

On the other side, deep inside the Daewoo Dojo, in an extremely quiet, highly confidential high-level medical room, the atmosphere was somewhat heavy.

The walls inside the room were painted a pristine white, spotless.

Soft, pale light filtered through the large blinds, quietly illuminating the floor of the room.

On that large, soft, snow-white sheet, lay a young man, lifeless.

His eyes were closed, and his features were extremely handsome, exuding a cold and stern feeling as if they had been carved by a knife and axe.

Even while unconscious, his long, slender fingers, which were outside the blanket, remained slightly bent, with distinct knuckles, as if ready to grip that deadly black spear at any moment.

It was Xilun that caused a sensation throughout the city.

He has been lying here unconscious for two whole days and two nights since he was carried off the ring.

His body, riddled with wounds, was now covered with a thick layer of dark green ointment that smelled of pungent herbs, like a piece of porcelain that had been broken and forcibly pieced back together.

Meanwhile, every two hours, Lund, who had been staying by the bedside, would use his extraordinary power to continuously channel the gentle energy of a third-tier expert into Xilun's depleted meridians through his palms, in order to harmonize Xilun's body functions, which had been completely disrupted by the rampage of the dual circulation.

"call--"

After another long and arduous effort, Lund's forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat, and his face was somewhat pale.

He slowly withdrew his hands, sat down in the chair, and quietly looked at Xilen, who still showed no signs of waking up on the bed. His eyes held both stern reproach and an undisguised pride.

A short while later, the door to the ward was gently pushed open.

A woman dressed in a smart white coat, looking like a doctor, strode toward the hospital bed with her long legs.

Her expression was cold and aloof. She glanced at the slightly tired Lund and spoke in a commanding tone without any politeness:

"You should go out now. The next exploration cannot be interfered with by any external forces."

Lund did not get angry because of the other party's attitude. He knew how superb the woman's medical skills were. He immediately stood up without saying a word, left the room, and continued to wait anxiously in the corridor outside.

The woman in white placed her heavy medical kit on the table, opened it with a click, and took out a series of sophisticated and extraordinary stethoscopes, beginning an extremely detailed diagnosis of Xilun's body.

After a moment, her tense face relaxed slightly, she nodded in satisfaction, and murmured to herself:

"What a monstrous constitution! Not only has his heart meridian stabilized, but his breathing has also become extremely steady. Those fatal internal injuries have even begun to heal automatically in just two days."

"At this rate of recovery, he should wake up soon."

To prevent him from struggling after waking up in pain and causing the wound to reopen, let's give him some painkillers first.

As she spoke, she skillfully took out a set of IV needles with thin, long needles.

Just as the sharp needle was about to pierce the skin.

Xilun's eyelids suddenly twitched violently a few times on the bed, as if he were having a final, desperate struggle with something in an extremely deep nightmare.

Then, those cold, sharp eyes slowly opened.

At first, his gaze was somewhat blank and unfocused, but his pupils gradually focused.

An extremely strong, even pungent, smell of disinfectant instantly filled his nostrils, followed by an intense, tsunami-like pain that swept through his entire body.

He felt as if his bones had been crushed hundreds of times in a millstone, and every muscle was groaning in pain.

What came into view was a woman in white looking down at him.

The woman glanced at him with her calm eyes, her hands continuing their work, and said in a low voice:

"You're awake? Since you're awake, don't move around too much. Your body is like a leaky sack right now. I'm giving you some nutrients and painkillers."

As she spoke, she flicked her wrist, and the silver needle was precisely inserted into the shriveled vein on the back of Xilun's hand. Then she tore off several strips of medical tape and used them to firmly secure the thin, soft IV tube.

After doing all this, she carefully lifted Xilun's arm, adjusted the hand with the needle in it to the most comfortable position, and tucked it into the soft blanket to prevent it from getting cold and affecting blood circulation.

"This medicine is administered slowly, and your body is still in poor condition and cannot withstand the impact of large doses of strong medicine."

While tidying up the equipment, the woman instructed, "You should stay in bed and not move for the next two days. If you feel anything wrong, press the call button, and I will call the nurse to come in and remove the needle in two hours."

After saying that, she picked up her medical kit, turned around and walked out of the ward with a swift and decisive motion.

Outside the door, Lund, who had been waiting for a long time, only tiptoed in after the doctor left.

Behind Lund's tall figure, some people crowded at the door, peering into the room from afar, yet tacitly refraining from stepping into the ward.

Those were Daisy, President Rein, and Fester, among others.

Their eyes were filled with concern, but they all understood the need to maintain an absolutely quiet environment for the seriously injured Siren.

Rendela sat down in the chair, looked at his disciple who had opened his eyes, and a slight smile appeared on his cold, hard face. "How are you feeling?"

Xilun lay weakly on the bed, his throat dry as if he had a handful of sand in it. He slightly tugged at the corner of his mouth and said in a hoarse voice, "...It hurts a little."

This isn't just being dramatic; Xilun genuinely felt a burning sensation inside his body, as if an unextinguished fire was scorching his internal organs.

I felt a tightness in my chest, accompanied by a feeling of extreme weakness due to severe blood loss.

Lund sighed and said, "You're risking your life! Just lie down and bear with it for now. Your digestive system hasn't recovered yet, so you can't drink water. You can only replenish fluids through IV drips."

"The doctor said that since you just woke up, you must wait four hours before you can eat. Close your eyes and continue to rest."

Xilun nodded slightly, his eyelids feeling as heavy as lead. A wave of drowsiness washed over him again, and without struggling, he fell into a deep sleep once more.

When he awoke again in this quiet place, it was already evening.

The sky outside the window was dark and gloomy, with thick clouds obscuring the starlight. Only the dim yellow light from the corridor streetlights shone through the glass.

Xilun turned his head slightly and found a man and a woman standing on either side of the bed.

The man was President Rein, who was looking down at a newspaper in the dim light.

The woman, Daisy, rested her chin on her hands, staring intently at Xilen's pale face.

She noticed that Xilun's eyelashes trembled slightly, and then he opened his eyes and looked over.

Xilun's chapped lips moved slightly, uttering an extremely faint call: "Daisy."

Daisy straightened up abruptly like a startled fawn, a barely perceptible blush rising on her cheeks.

She quickly leaned forward and asked in a low voice:

"Are you awake? Are you thirsty? Do you want some water? Four hours have passed, you can have a little bit now."

Xilun swallowed hard and nodded slightly.

Hearing the commotion, Ryan immediately put down his newspaper and hurriedly poured a cup of warm water from the thermos.

Daisy took the glass of water and gently pressed the back of her hand against the glass to test the water temperature.

After confirming that it wasn't too hot, she carefully slipped her arm through Xilun's back and very slowly helped him sit up, placing a soft pillow behind his back.

She held the water glass to Xilun's lips and fed him water little by little.

Xilun was extremely thirsty, his throat was gulping and he swallowed frantically, making gurgling sounds, and he drank more than half a cup in one go.

The warm water flowed down his esophagus into his stomach at the perfect temperature, like a withered tree coming back to life, giving his parched body a renewed sense of vitality.

Daisy took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the water stains from the corners of Celen's mouth, saying softly, "The doctor instructed that your stomach is too fragile right now, so you can only eat the softest liquid food."

"Mr. Lund went out this afternoon and went to the most upscale restaurant in the downtown area to buy you rice porridge that was cooked until very soft. It was made with the finest white rice and had a little bit of sugar added."

As she spoke, she turned and picked up the small porcelain bowl that had been kept warm in hot water beside her. Holding the spoon, she turned back to look at Xilen, whose hands hung limply at his sides, and asked softly:

"Can you hold a spoon and eat by yourself?"

Xilun gritted his teeth and tried to use his elbow to support himself, but found that his arm, which had been pricked with needles, was sore and weak that he couldn't muster any strength at all.

He could only shake his head helplessly.

Seeing this, Daisy showed no disgust. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed quite naturally and said softly:

"Don't move, I'll feed you."

She stirred the porcelain bowl with a silver spoon, scooped up a little thick rice porridge, carefully blew on it to warm it before bringing it to Xilun's lips.

Xilun opened his mouth slightly and drank the rice soup.

The warm food slid into my stomach, and my empty stomach gradually felt the comfort of being filled.

The white rice was cooked until extremely soft and sticky, with a faint aroma of rice that melted in your mouth. The little bit of white sugar added gave it a slightly sweet taste.

For Xilun, who hadn't had a drop of water for three days and had just escaped death, this was simply a delicacy, and quite delicious.

As they were being fed spoonful after spoonful, before they knew it, most of the bowl of rice porridge had been emptied.