Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

He closed his eyes, and the image of the woman's teasing eyes appeared in his mind.

"Perhaps she was just enjoying the thrill of manipulating the fate of mortals."

Xilun sneered inwardly.

He stood up abruptly and shoved the heavy book back into the depths of the bookshelf.

He finally made a decision—not to compromise with this so-called prophecy.

Life is a personal society; being born and surviving is itself a constant battle against the unknown.

If every step you take is influenced by such specious and malicious prophecies, and you speculate and fear, it will only seriously affect your rationality and dull your sword.

"Just be yourself."

Xilun pushed open the library door, facing the cool night breeze, his eyes regaining their usual calm.

The road ahead will ultimately be forged step by step by the very gun in our hands.

As evening fell, the dim yellow gaslights illuminated the VIP wards of the hospital.

Xilun sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed, practicing the "Great Ocean Whale Guiding Technique" to try to unblock the meridians in his body that were aching from overexertion.

The door to the ward was gently pushed open.

The light from the corridor cast a long shadow of a man in a sophisticated black trench coat.

Xilun opened his eyes, raised his head, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes when he saw who it was.

"Lord Yuri."

The newcomer was none other than Yuri, the leader of the Southern Brotherhood.

When Yuri walked in, he had that gentle yet authoritative smile that was typical of someone in a superior position.

He first turned his head and bowed slightly to Lund, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper, showing the respect due to a third-order aberrant.

He then sat down in a chair beside Siron's bed and placed his cane aside.

"Hehe, Xilun."

The fraternity has been incredibly busy lately, and I'm only just finding time to visit you. I hope I haven't disturbed your rest.

Yuri's voice was deep and magnetic, as if every word had been carefully chosen.

Xilun shook his head, his tone flat: "It's nothing. It wasn't a big deal to begin with, and I'm recovering very well."

Yuri looked at Xiren, a glint of light flashing deep in his eyes.

As the head of a vast underground force, Yuri never takes meaningless actions.

He had his own ambitions—to establish a well-ordered underground empire and open up trade routes between the north and south.

To achieve all this, he needs a knife that is sharp enough and can command respect.

He originally thought that Xilun would need several more years to mature.

But in the decisive battle a few days ago, Xiren, as a commoner, defeated Ross, fully demonstrating its terrifying potential and ruthless methods.

This surprised Yuri, but also made him feel a sense of urgency.

Such talents, if not bound to the community as soon as possible, will inevitably be snapped up by the nobles of the upper city.

The two chatted casually about the details of the match, and Yuri acted like an elder who cared about his junior, without showing any eagerness for quick success.

A moment later, Yuri stood up, picked up his cane, and prepared to leave.

As he reached the door, he said, seemingly casually:

"Sirlen, congratulations again on winning the Knight Fighting Championship."

Once you've recovered, you're welcome to visit me anytime so we can discuss some new work arrangements.

Yuri smiled slightly, his smile carrying an undeniable certainty. "I believe the stage the Brotherhood can offer you is far greater than you imagine."

After saying this, Yuri nodded to Lund again, then turned and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Xilun stared at the closed door, blinked, and seemed lost in thought.

"Yuri's appetite is quite large," Lund said calmly, putting down his newspaper. "He wants to use your reputation and military strength to expand his territory. You need to weigh the pros and cons carefully."

Xilun didn't speak, but just looked out at the dark night.

The next morning, sunlight pierced through the gloom of the past few days and shone on the streets of Saint Laurent.

After a night of rest and recuperation, Xilun was discharged from the hospital.

Although he still felt some soreness deep in his muscles, his body had fully regained its mobility.

The first thing he did after being discharged from the hospital was to go directly to the Daewoo Dojo.

At the entrance to the dojo's secluded treasure vault, Vice Dojo Master Belang personally handed a finely crafted black lead box to Siron.

Upon opening the box, a bottle of potion exuding a psychedelic aura lay quietly inside—a perfect quality regeneration potion.

This is the reward he earned with his life, and also a huge guarantee for his future breakthrough to the second tier.

Xilun carefully put it close to his body.

As for the "Knight's Medal," which symbolizes honor and privilege, the process is much more complicated.

He went to the Metropolitan Police Department first.

There, the police officers who were usually aloof and critical of civilians all put on fawning smiles when facing this newly promoted junior knight.

After completing the registration, he went to the magnificent church that maintained the church.

Amid the solemn chanting of the clergy, they recorded their soul wavelengths and true names.

The ceremony concluded only after both parties had completed their verification and the tripartite awarding ceremony was formally held.

After completing this long and busy process, it was almost noon when Siron walked out of the church's huge brass doors.

The early winter breeze carried a hint of chill, but Xilun, wearing only a thin shirt, walked down the street without feeling the slightest bit cold.

At this moment, he was full of energy.

After the brutal battle with Ross that nearly tore his muscles apart, and with the nourishment of medical drugs, he felt his body undergo a complete rebirth.

With each breath, the flow of qi and blood is smoother than ever before.

It seems that on the edge of life and death, his extraordinary path has taken a big step forward, and the extreme shackles that block countless first-level extraordinary beings are getting closer and closer to him.

Xilun stopped and looked up at the mechanical clock tower on the side of the street.

The pointer is pointing to 11:40.

He remembered the woman in the black robe's first prophecy—tomorrow at noon, go to the nearby cinema to watch a movie, where the answers to his life would be found.

Although he had decided to abandon the interference of prophecy last night, since he was passing by, it seemed harmless to verify this woman's so-called "twisting fate" trick.

He turned around and strode toward the "Starry Night Cinema" on the street corner, which had a flashing neon sign.

The entrance to Star Shine Cinema is not large, with an old red velvet screen obscuring the view and a strong smell of popcorn mixed with cheap tobacco.

Xilun walked up to the ticket window.

The ticket seller was a thin, old man wearing thick-rimmed glasses, yawning as he flipped through the newspaper in his hand.

"Let's watch a movie." Siren's voice was cold and crisp.

The staff member looked up from behind the newspaper, adjusted his glasses, and asked, "What movie do you want to see? There aren't many showings today."

"I want it to start exactly at twelve o'clock." Xilun stared into the ticket seller's eyes.

The staff member paused for a moment, seemingly quite surprised by this customer who only wanted the time of day and not the title of the film.

He turned his head and looked at the small blackboard behind him, which was covered with dense chalk writing.

"Exactly at midnight?" the old man muttered, then knocked on the glass. "There are two movies there, both showing at midnight. Which one do you want?"

Xilun looked in the direction the old man was pointing.

Two movie ticket stubs were clipped to the glass window.

The one on the left depicts a ragged, thin boy running through a dark, damp street; the film is titled "Oliver Twist".

The one on the right depicts a man in a magnificent cloak with a sinister gaze standing on the edge of a cliff, with a burning castle behind him. The title of the film is "The Return of the Earl".

Xilun stood there, staring thoughtfully at the two ticket stubs.

He didn't immediately take out his money to buy a ticket.

"Thank you, but I don't need it."

Xilun suddenly looked away, turned and left the ticket window, leaving the old man muttering incomprehensibly behind him.

On the way back, the hustle and bustle of the streets seemed to be shut out by Xilun.

His brain was racing, trying to decipher the deeper meaning of what had just happened.

What does that mean?

Why are there two movies showing right at midnight?

Which of these two movies does the woman's prophecy refer to as "life"?

Or perhaps, the complete answer lies in combining these two films together?

He stopped at a newsstand by the roadside and bought an entertainment newspaper that specializes in film reviews.

Standing under the eaves at the street corner, he quickly flipped through the contents of the newspaper.

The newspaper happened to have detailed reviews of both films. Xilun scanned them line by line, getting a general understanding of the plot.

Oliver Twist tells the story of an orphan who lost both parents at a young age, suffers bullying in the lower rungs of society, is exploited by various gangs, and endures countless hardships and torments. In the end, relying on his inner kindness and a bit of luck, he finds his lost relatives and is redeemed.

"The Return of the Earl" tells the story of a man who originally had a happy life, but was cruelly betrayed by his best friend and fiancée and was thrown into a death row.

Years later, he escaped from prison by the skin of his teeth and transformed into a ruthless count. He returned to high society with a vast fortune and drove those who had framed him to their deaths, completing his cold-blooded revenge.

Two movies, two completely different life trajectories.

One is a passive redemption of the struggling lower class, and the other is an active revenge filled with violence and destruction.

Xilun folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket.

It wasn't until he returned to his room and closed the heavy iron door that he finally frowned deeply.

He finally understood what it meant.

Knowing some mysterious prophecies might not actually be a good thing.

Oliver Twist symbolizes his past of being abandoned by the Duke's mansion and struggling to survive in the Lower City; while The Return of the Earl is a metaphor for the deep-seated desire in his heart to return to the Upper City at all costs and to trample his cold-blooded biological father underfoot and question him.

That woman, that aloof Black Crow, simply used two cheesy movies to dissect the essence of his life with remarkable precision.

This feeling of being completely seen through and having one's fate manipulated at will made Xiren feel extremely nauseous.

This only made him constantly worry about whether his fate was predetermined, and it did not allow him to achieve any real personal growth.

He walked to the sink and splashed the icy water hard on his face.

Water droplets dripped down his resolute jawline.

He looked up at the young man in the mirror, whose eyes were sharp as knives.

He decided to fully implement the idea that came to him in the library yesterday.

He buried this so-called concept of fate, this prophecy brought by women, deep in the darkest corner of his heart.

Although he would occasionally take out these prophecies to ponder in the dead of night or at the brink of life and death, to remind himself of their importance.

But on a daily basis, he has to face life more practically and realistically.

Only the power you hold in your own hands is the sole asset to resist all false prophecies.

In the afternoon, the sky turned gloomy again.

A light drizzle enveloped the entire city of Saint Laurent, the raindrops tapping against the windowpanes with a dull thud.

Golden Rooster Hotel.

The room was dimly lit as the lights were off.

Xilun took off his shirt, revealing a body covered with scars of all sizes, with muscles that looked like they were cast in steel.

He walked to the heavy metal machine in the center of the room.

I gripped the cold iron bar with both hands and took a deep breath.

"Creak—"

A sickening metallic scraping sound filled the room.

He began using equipment to train and focused intently on rehabilitation.

With each stretch, he could feel a slight stinging pain as the muscle fibers tore and remodeled, but this pain made him feel incredibly grounded at that moment.

Sweat quickly mixed with the moisture in the air, covering his broad back.

Three months.

He counted down silently in his mind.

In three months, the wondrous snow mountain realm, filled with the unknown and carnage, will open.

It was a bloody grinder, far more brutal than any arena, with no rules or restrictions whatsoever.

He must hone himself into a flawless killing machine before that happens.

Whether it's to pay off Black Crow's debts or for the life that belongs to him.

……

Early in the morning, before the fog had dissipated from the streets of Saint Laurent, a heavy silence already enveloped the rooms of the Golden Rooster Hotel.

Xilun opened his eyes, his gaze clear, without the slightest trace of the confusion of waking up.

A full week has passed since that final match that shocked the entire city.

During that week, he turned down all visits from various powerful figures and adjusted his schedule to an almost austere level.

I fall asleep at 10 p.m. every night and wake up at 4 a.m. every morning.

He rolled out of bed, stepped barefoot onto the cold wooden floor, and began his daily, unwavering morning exercise routine.

Without using any equipment, he simply stretched out his arms slowly, his muscles stretching inch by inch like a taut bowstring in the dim morning light.

With each breath, his bones crackled like popping beans.

After stretching, Xilun closed his eyes and focused his mind on his body.

"laugh--"

A pale blue arc of electricity suddenly leaped at his fingertips, then spread rapidly throughout his body like a snake.

He began to temper his skin membrane with electrical charges. This was a form of torture unimaginable to ordinary people. Lightning coursed through the muscle fibers, bringing extreme numbness and a subtle tearing sensation, but his face remained stern, without even a furrowed brow.

Stimulated by this violent energy, the blood vessels under his skin bulged out, like coiled dragons.

The deep blue energy and silvery-blue electrical charge intertwined on the surface of the skin, constantly forcing out impurities from the body and making this physical body increasingly inhuman.