Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Meanwhile, at a high-end private hospital near Daewoo Dojo.

The afternoon sun shone through the white blinds, casting dappled shadows on the smooth wooden floor of the ward.

The air was filled with the faint, slightly cool herbal scent of high-quality ointment, which masked the original smell of blood and disinfectant.

On the hospital bed, Xiren slowly opened his eyes.

After another deep sleep and the nourishment of advanced medicine, he felt that the excruciating pain in his body, as if it had been crushed, had lessened considerably.

Although he could still feel a faint stinging pain in his chest with each breath, he knew that his extraordinary recovery ability was repairing his damaged organs at an astonishing speed.

He turned his head slightly and saw his teacher, Lund, sitting on the sofa next to him.

Lund sat cross-legged, his hands resting naturally on his knees, his eyes closed.

A layer of airflow, barely perceptible to the naked eye, slowly circulated around Lund, indicating that the third-tier mutant was undergoing intensive blood and qi cultivation.

Seemingly sensing the change in Xilun's breathing, Lund slowly opened his eyes.

A hint of weariness flashed in those deep eyes, but they quickly regained their clarity.

He looked at Xilun and said in a calm voice, "Today, two more powerful forces have sent extremely generous gifts, intending to provide you with financial assistance."

Xilun blinked, slowly propped himself up halfway from the pillow, and leaned against the headboard.

He said with a hint of doubt, "Didn't we say we'd talk about everything after I'm discharged from the hospital?"

Lund picked up the warm water on the table, took a sip, and said calmly:

"That's exactly what I told them. But nobody's a fool."

They knew perfectly well that once you were fully recovered and discharged from the hospital, with the title of Junior Knight Champion, you would become extremely sought after.

"So after learning that you had awakened from your coma and passed the most dangerous period of recuperation, those noble families and top clubs rushed to contact you, afraid of falling behind, and desperately offered all kinds of generous conditions, hoping that you could join one of their factions or families."

After listening, Xilun lowered his eyes thoughtfully. Looking at his hands, which were wrapped in bandages, he asked softly:

"What's the point of this funding? If I accept their huge resources, do I have to become their servant and work for them?"

Lund put down his water glass, crossed his hands on his knees, and looked at Xilen with a serious expression.

"I was planning to explain the rules of these aristocratic circles to you in detail after you were discharged from the hospital."

But since we've come this far, and you're about to face a choice, I'll give you a heads-up.

Lund's deep, magnetic voice echoed slowly in the quiet hospital room.

"In Saint Laurent City, and even throughout the entire Victorian Empire, the support that major powers provide to geniuses and extraordinary individuals is generally strictly divided into two tiers."

"The first level is called nominal sponsorship; the second level is called incorporation sponsorship."

Lund paused, giving Xiren time to process the information, before continuing his explanation:

"The first level is nominal sponsorship."

This is relatively simple and offers more freedom.

As a partner, you, as an independent and extraordinary individual, enter into a written agreement with a certain power.

"In exchange, they will grant you access to some of their family's valuable resources, such as advanced breathing techniques, lost martial arts secrets, or access to high-level extraordinary knowledge in the library."

Of course, these aren't free; you can buy them with money at a much lower price than they're available on the market.

They will also discuss giving you a fixed amount of cultivation resources each month. That's all.

After listening, Xilun blinked, seemingly finding the conditions rather ordinary, and asked doubtfully, "That's all?"

Lund shook his head slightly, a meaningful smile curving his lips, and said:

"Correspondingly, while you enjoy a few conveniences, you also bear relatively few responsibilities. There are two main points."

"First, you need to grant them access to your image rights and reputation rights."

For example, they would announce in major newspapers and at parties that Sir Sir Ren, the champion of this year's Junior Knight Fighting Tournament, has joined their family camp.

They will use your fame to attract more ordinary talents or to intimidate business competitors.

To put it bluntly, this is just using your name to embellish their image.

"Secondly, nominally, you and the forces you are affiliated with will be on the same side."

If they encounter a great danger that threatens the survival of their family, you, as the person who is affiliated with them, have an obligation to step forward and help them overcome the difficulties.

At the same time, in situations where military deterrence is required, you will also need to jointly address the thorny issues currently facing the current forces.

Lund sighed and continued his analysis:

"The practice of 'affiliation and sponsorship' is mostly used by powerful and influential groups who invest in a friendship that is insignificant to them by contributing a small portion of their limited resources."

"After all, the higher the level of cultivation through extraordinary methods, the more it tests a person's character."

If you accept kindness when you are weak but do not repay it, the sense of indebtedness in your heart will be magnified infinitely as your rank increases.

In the world of extraordinary individuals, saying one thing and meaning another is a fatal flaw.

"Unless you are the kind of cold-blooded, ruthless wicked person who would never have the slightest thought to doubt whether your actions are moral."

Otherwise, if you accept the other party's affiliation and financial assistance, you will generally subconsciously assume that you owe them a heavy favor.

This favor will have to be repaid sooner or later, and often at a cost many times greater than the resources initially received.

Xilun nodded silently, memorizing these complex rules of exchanging benefits.

After Lund finished explaining the nominal sponsorship, his gaze became somewhat serious, and he continued:

"As for the second type of funding, it is called the inclusion funding."

As the name suggests, it means officially registering your name in their family's genealogy.

"If you receive a grant of entry into the genealogy from a nobleman with a title, such as a baron."

This basically means that from the moment you sign the contract, in the eyes of outsiders, you are no different from the direct descendants of that family.

You can openly enjoy the extremely luxurious lifestyle of the direct descendants of the family, with carriages for your travels and a retinue of attendants.

"But there's no such thing as a free lunch. You also need to handle all the responsibilities assigned to you by the family without reservation, even if it means sending them to their deaths."

Lund's eyes turned cold, as if he could see through the hypocritical masks of those nobles.

"You can even, according to custom, acknowledge a high-ranking member of the family as your father."

After this nominal father dies, you can rightfully and legally inherit his enormous wealth and prominent status.

But correspondingly, after he lives and grows old, you must, like a true son, take on the responsibility of supporting and protecting him.

"After being included in the family register, the family will allocate a massive amount of rare resources to you every month based on your current status and demonstrated strength, usually more than you can imagine."

Moreover, by accepting the sponsorship to be included in the family genealogy, you will gradually gain access to more of the family's hidden secrets throughout history and connect with the most elite social circles.

At this point, Lund paused, staring intently into Xiren's eyes, and stated the final and most cruel condition.

"As the final step to fully integrate into the family, you will be forced to marry one of the carefully selected women from within the family."

Then, you need to have a child with her.

And this child, from birth, must bear the family name, becoming a tool for them to continue their bloodline.

Lund finished speaking in one breath, picked up his water glass, and drank the rest of the water in one gulp.

He looked at Xilen, who was deep in thought, and asked softly, "You should now fully understand the difference between these two types of funding. What are your thoughts?"

Xilun leaned against the headboard, looking at the gloomy sky outside the window, and thought for a long time.

The image of Mrs. Risa's arrogant and disdainful face flashed through his mind, as did Li Lei's condescending and condescending gaze.

He tidied his words and said in a calm but unusually firm tone, "Perhaps... I prefer the first option, affiliation with sponsors."

"I will only accept a portion of their resources and access, in exchange for which I am willing to assume some reasonable combat responsibility. Consider this a fair trade."

Xilun chuckled coldly and shook his head, as if trying to shake those absurd thoughts out of his mind.

"As for being included in the score... that's like a ridiculous joke to me, it's just too far away."

"I never wanted to become a direct descendant of some arrogant family and be someone else's son."

Not to mention the potential for him to marry into my family and have a child who won't even be able to keep my own surname.

Xilun felt a sudden headache coming on. The suffocating feeling of being manipulated by the aristocratic class like a puppet made him instinctively feel nauseous.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and said helplessly:

"Actually, I was planning to deal with all this mess after I was discharged from the hospital. Now, just listening to it makes me annoyed."

Lund was not surprised by this; he knew all too well the pride and unruliness in his apprentice's bones.

He changed the subject, asking, "When Dr. Raphael came for rounds today, did he mention a specific timeframe for your discharge?"

Xilen licked her slightly dry lips and replied, "She said my internal organs are healing quickly and I can leave tomorrow."

A slight feeling of hunger rose in his stomach, and Xilun glanced at the brass mechanical clock hanging on the wall.

The hour hand is pointing exactly at noon.

He threw back the covers, put on his slippers, stretched his limbs, and said:

"I'm feeling a bit hungry, so I'm going downstairs to the cafeteria to grab something to eat and get some fresh air."

Lund closed his eyes, readjusted his breathing, and casually said, "Go ahead, come back after you finish breakfast, I'll cultivate here for a while longer."

As a third-order aberration, Lund knew all too well how hard-won his power was.

He devoted almost all his time to the tedious practice, and his dedication and self-discipline for power were no less than that of Xilun.

Xilun pushed open the door to the ward and walked out alone.

Having survived the life-or-death battle three days ago, which was like a meat grinder, he was still thin, but his movements were no longer hindered.

Without the immense pressure of the competition and the deadly threat of being surrounded by formidable opponents, he felt an unprecedented sense of ease in both body and soul.

Stepping out of the hospital building filled with the smell of medicine, a gentle breeze brushed against her cheeks, and Xiren took a deep breath of the fresh air outside.

The air was filled with the fragrance of earth and the fresh scent of green leaves. Although it couldn't compare to the wind in the wilderness, it was a rare and pleasant experience in the steam-filled city of Saint Laurent.

Walking along the back of the hospital's main building, on the way to the cafeteria on the first floor, there is a long, well-maintained green lawn.

It was midday, and the bright sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the verdant trees.

A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, as if nature itself were whispering.

The air around us was so fresh that it made me want to take a few more deep breaths.

Xiren walked alone on the stone path in the forest, sunlight dappling his shoulders.

He felt extremely peaceful, as if the clamor surrounding his victory and the attempts by powerful figures to win him over were completely shut out in this moment of tranquility.

His gaze swept calmly around him, where a few patients and their families were gathered in twos and threes on the grass.

Some people sat cross-legged on the grass, comfortably playing cards; others were playing other simple toss and catch games, with bursts of cheerful laughter occasionally drifting through the air.

Continuing along the path, Xilun passed a beautiful pavilion built of white marble.

His gaze swept casually across the room, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

In the center of the pavilion, a round table covered with black velvet had been placed there at some point.

Behind the table sat a woman exuding a somber aura.

The woman wore a large black hooded robe, the wide brim of which shrouded her head in deep shadow, making it impossible to see her true face without looking down.

However, the hem of the robe was designed to be extremely daring, with a high slit like the cheongsam of the Eastern Empire.

As the breeze blew, the fabric swayed, exposing large swathes of long, snow-white thighs to the air without any cover, creating a stark visual contrast with the tranquil and peaceful hospital environment.

Beside her, a small wooden sign was casually placed, with two lines of text written in delicate yet somewhat eerie red characters:

Free fortune telling.

Explain the fee.

Xilun blinked, his gaze falling on the black velvet round table.

The table was cluttered with a variety of things, including an ancient tarot deck, an astrological crystal ball that seemed to contain a galaxy, animal bones, and a glass bottle filled with strange powder.

The chaotic arrangement of the items gives the impression that she is not loyal to any particular school of mysticism, or perhaps she doesn't need to rely on these ordinary objects to communicate with the gods.

Xilun has always kept his distance from such superstitious tricks.

But at this moment, perhaps because he had just escaped the brink of death, his mindset had undergone a subtle change; or perhaps the word "free" on the sign had indeed piqued his interest.

Free things always have a fatal attraction for a poor boy from downtown.

Xilun stepped into the pavilion and sat down on the wooden chair opposite the woman.

"What do you want me to divine?"