Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

"The second-tier ripper focuses on tearing apart muscles and allowing fibers to regenerate."

Lund began to impart his experience, "And for those who reach the third level of aberration, the focus is on cultivating their tendons and refining their qi."

If you can achieve some success with this footwork in the North District, you can move freely among the skyscrapers as if walking on flat ground.

It makes your movements extremely agile and nimble, allowing you to perform many bizarre dodging maneuvers in mid-air that defy the laws of physics.

Lund sighed and gave some instructions:

"I usually don't pass on this kind of method of dodging and weaving in battle and that is extremely demanding on muscle training to my disciples. After all, the threshold is too high, it is very difficult to get started, and it is easy to ruin the leg meridians."

However, if it were you, it shouldn't be a big problem.

Take it home and look at it carefully. If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to write to me anytime.

Xilun carefully put the two precious booklets away from his body and said in a deep voice:

"Once I've mastered it, I'll return it to my teacher in perfect condition."

Lund waved his hand: "There's no rush. Your other senior brothers aren't following this path, so they don't need this stuff."

The two left the study and returned to the courtyard.

A cold wind blew by, and fine snowflakes began to fall from the sky.

"You're leaving. That's fine."

Lund looked at the gray sky, his voice becoming somewhat distant, "Knights raised in a greenhouse will lack experience and true courage if they cannot be tempered by blood and fire."

Your courage is undeniable, but your insight and methods for handling complex situations may not be sufficient.

He turned his head and looked at Xilun with utmost seriousness:

"Since you're working in the North District, you absolutely must find an opportunity to visit the most powerful family in the North District, the Tusol family, a viscount family with a deep and distinguished history."

"This family wields immense and deep-rooted power in the North District."

You could try to collaborate with them, such as by providing them with funding or exchanging benefits through the Brotherhood's channels.

Never resort to violence to solve problems.

Perhaps because his disciple was about to leave, Lund, who was usually carefree, became unusually talkative and rambling.

Xilun stood in the wind and snow, listening quietly, engraving every word into his mind.

The two walked to the bench in front of the manor porch. Lund sat down, picked up the glass of water on the stone table, which had long since gone cold, and took a sip. He seemed about to say something, but in the end, he stopped talking.

He gazed at Xilun's pale yet resolute face, a hint of tenderness flickering in his eyes.

"Sirlen, your achievements are hard-won."

Lund's voice was deep and powerful, "When you get out, don't do anything foolish."

Although your family is quite ordinary, you are fortunate to have raised such a resilient child as yourself.

You should always remember this hard-won life.

"Otherwise, think about it..."

Lund pointed to the ordinary people hunched over in the snow outside, "If later, because you retreated and stopped at some difficult moment, you find that you ultimately did not achieve the life you wanted..."

You begin to live an ordinary life, eat ordinary food, do ordinary work, playing the role of an insignificant ordinary person within this vast imperial machine.

"When that time comes, will you regret your negativity and laziness in your youth?"

Lund smiled. In that instant, in Xiren's eyes, the person sitting on the bench was no longer the young, talented, and carefree knight teacher.

Rather, he is a solemn, serious, and experienced middle-aged elder.

The teacher looked at his student with a kind smile and said softly:

"You are my most satisfied disciple."

But, as the fledgling eagle grows up, you will eventually have to leave my protection.

I hope you get used to this kind of separation.

He waved his hand, as if trying to dispel some kind of sadness: "You should go too. I have things to do this afternoon; I need to catch a carriage."

Xiren took a deep breath of the cold air, stepped back, and bowed deeply to Lund with utmost solemnity.

After thanking him, he gave Lund a deep look, then turned and strode away, stepping onto the stone path now covered with a thin layer of snow.

The wind and snow gradually intensified.

Snowflakes fluttered down onto Xilun's black trench coat, seemingly symbolizing the arrival of another harsh winter in Saint Laurent.

Lund sat on the bench, watching the snow gradually accumulate in the courtyard, his gaze becoming somewhat mesmerizing.

It was snowing throughout Saint Laurent.

The pure white snowflakes fall on everyone's shoulders with perfect fairness, whether they are noble dukes or poor beggars, without any difference based on class.

The butler, Savi, appeared out of nowhere with a heavy cloak and gently draped it over Lund's shoulders.

"Your Excellency, Siren is gone," Savi said in a low voice.

Lund withdrew his gaze and said calmly, "I should have left long ago. People in this line of work are bound to have this day eventually."

Savi sighed: "You have already bid farewell to three exceptionally talented disciples."

Including Xilun, the remaining two will also be leaving soon.

"That's great."

Lund smirked. "So that they won't stay in this shabby manor and live that kind of impoverished life with me where there's no future."

They have a vast life ahead of them to experience.

"A knight who has never experienced adventure and bloodshed is an imperfect knight."

After hesitating for a moment, Saiwei couldn't help but voice his doubts:

"I still don't understand why you made an exception and accepted Xilun in the first place."

You've devoted too much energy to him. That shouldn't be the case.

Your own spiritual practice, and that great matter, are of greater importance.

Lund thought for a moment, then instead of answering directly, softly called out, "Savi."

"What is it, Your Excellency?" Savi nodded respectfully.

Lund looked at the snow falling heavily and suddenly smiled:

"Do you remember? That day I bought some things and planned to visit Siron, who was seriously injured, in the hospital."

The road was very congested, with carriages stuck in a complete jam. I was bored, so I looked out the carriage window.

Suddenly, I had an extremely disoriented feeling.

I saw a man with a face covered in grease on a dilapidated carriage next to me, happily tapping his fingers on the window.

He seemed to be humming some unknown folk song.

Even in such terrible traffic jams, he was still happy.

At that moment, I suddenly had a very strange feeling—it was as if the protagonist of this world wasn't me, a high and mighty third-tier extraordinary being, but that man.

Lund's eyes became incredibly deep.

"He was incredibly happy, with his own unique rhythm and life."

He had his own joys and sorrows, and even his own complete and real life.

He had his own childhood, youth, and middle age.

He sang his favorite songs, and perhaps he still harbored a secret crush on someone...

Lund sighed, "This reminds me of Xilun."

"When I first met that kid from Xilen at the club, I inexplicably liked the young man."

He is indeed quite special.

His cheeks were pale, his eyes were always bloodshot from staying up all night, and he was tall and very strong.

What was particularly striking were his starry eyes.

His eyes were always calm and lifeless.

Although he is standing there looking at you, you feel as if he is not really looking at you.

It was a silent arrogance, deeply ingrained in one's bones.

"But deep within his stagnant eyes, I understood."

There exists an extremely powerful, almost fanatical obsession there.

Lund paused, his voice so low that only he could hear, "In him, I see a reflection of my younger self."

He turned his head and looked at the butler, Savi, whose face was full of confusion.

"I often feel like I'm just an ordinary person."

I am not the protagonist of this world.

Lund exhaled a puff of white breath. "Everyone else has their own complete life, their own joys and sorrows, their own births, aging, sickness, and death."

They weren't background characters who existed to make my life more special.

"Even Xilun, that kid carries more hatred and goals in his heart than I do, making him seem like a protagonist experiencing a legend."

Saiwei remained silent for a long time.

"Then, Your Excellency."

Savi bowed respectfully. "What are you going to do next?"

Lund stood up and pulled his cloak tighter around himself.

"If nothing unexpected happens, I will go home."

Lund's eyes sharpened like a knife. "But now, there are a few things I need to take care of here."

"First, I need to pass on that people's club in the slum intact."

With just ten shillings, children from underprivileged backgrounds can learn the breathing technique for eight weeks.

"A commoner with some talent can use these eight weeks to learn the basics."

"In this way, they can barely change their fate and improve their lives a little."

Perhaps over several generations, it will be possible to gradually achieve upward social mobility.

Lund looked at the manor gate, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"That club is proof that I existed in this southern district. I cannot let it disappear."

"And another thing," Lund recalled the terrifying figure controlling the crows, "I once encountered a mysterious and unfathomable gentleman."

She needs us to do three things for her.

"Sirlen, go take care of the first thing. I need to wait until this matter is completely over, make sure that kid is alive, before I go on with my own mission."

Lund's relaxed and carefree smile returned.

"No rush." ​​He patted Savi on the shoulder and strode into the house. "Going home before I'm thirty-five, there's still plenty of time. I have seven more years."

……

The hazy sky, like a tattered cloth soaked in oil, weighed heavily on the northern part of Saint Laurent.

Kohler yawned and stood on the train platform with his neck hunched.

The biting cold wind, mixed with the smell of coal ash, rushed in through the collar of his slightly thin work clothes.

As a newly recruited entry-level employee at the brother's processing plant, he is feeling quite tired, with his eyelids drooping.

Including him, the factory's more than twenty big and small bosses and employees had to do one thing today: welcome the new governor who had been parachuted in from the South District.

They knew very little about this governor.

Even the original factory director, Diano, had only heard a few vague rumors.

It is said that this governor is not old at all, definitely not the kind of old man in his fifties or sixties who has been in the underworld for decades, and may even be under forty.

The crowd on the platform whispered among themselves, occasionally rubbing their frozen hands.

Kohler squinted, trying to make out the sounds on the distant railway tracks in the cold wind.

Finally, accompanied by a deafening roar of steam, a heavy train, entirely black and belching thick white smoke, slowly pulled into the station.

The screeching of brakes scraped against the steel rails, the doors opened, and a group of passengers carrying suitcases and hurrying along gradually poured out.

As instructed by the former factory manager of Dianno, the new factory manager will wear a black suit and carry a large-framed umbrella, making him quite conspicuous.

Everyone immediately perked up, their eyes scanning the crowd. Their feelings towards the governor, whom they didn't know, were complex.

The Seven Seas processing plant was just acquired by the behemoth "Brotherhood" in the South District, and now a new boss has been parachuted in. Nobody knows if they can keep their jobs.

As I swept past the crowds, I occasionally saw a few gentlemen dressed in black passing by, but none of them were carrying black umbrellas.

Just then, a young man quietly approached the crowd waiting to pick up passengers.

Because she was standing in the front row, Kohler subconsciously glanced at the person.

Young. He looks to be around twenty years old.

He was tall and upright, and his suit was well-fitting without a single wrinkle.

His cheeks were pale, yet had an eerie, blood-red hue.

Those hands were extremely fair, with distinct knuckles, and they held a large, thick black umbrella.

His thin lips were pressed tightly together, and his face was as calm as a stagnant pool.

Those deep eyes swept over the crowd without the slightest emotional fluctuation, and he spoke calmly:

Who is Diano?

Kohler was taken aback.

Diano, standing behind him, also stepped forward with some skepticism.

Diano was a middle-aged man around fifty years old, with a slightly overweight beer belly and a shrewd businessman's eyes.

He looked at the unusually young man before him and tentatively asked, "Are you... Governor of Xilun?"

Xiren nodded calmly, without any further pleasantries: "Take me to the factory."

After saying that, Xilun lifted his foot and walked directly out of the platform, his steps steady and with a strange rhythm.

The dozen or so people behind them looked at each other in bewilderment and quickly followed.

Although they were all factory managers who usually acted arrogantly in front of the workers, they inexplicably felt an invisible pressure in front of this young governor, their steps were hurried and tense, and their faces were surprised.

Half an hour later.

Amid the roar of the machines at the Brothers Factory, many employees began to whisper among themselves in a corner.

"Have you heard? A handsome new governor has been parachuted in; he looks as young as a recent college graduate."

"They're probably young noblemen who have connections in high places, here in the North District to get their resumes."

"Some people say he looks like a knight."

"What a load of bull! Would a knight like you come to our run-down factory to eat coal dust?"

Inside the factory's reception room, however, the atmosphere was completely different, a lively scene of clinking glasses and exchanging toasts.