Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Dawson stood up abruptly, his voice not loud, but conveying an undeniable determination.

A moment later, several people were seated in the previously empty underground conference hall.

These people are all core members of the Iron Fist Gang, and each of them is a ruthless figure with considerable influence in the North District.

The dim light cast shadows on their faces.

Dawson sat at the head of the long table and pushed the letter to the center of the table.

"Siron has written to me, summoning me to come to him in person tomorrow morning."

What are your thoughts on this matter?

After the letter was passed around, a low murmur of discussion immediately broke out among the crowd.

They were all seasoned veterans, and naturally they could sense the murderous intent hidden in the letter.

"We can't go!" A hot-tempered leader slammed his fist on the table. "This is clearly a trap!"

Now that scoundrel Diano is dead, Celen is turning its attention to us again.

If the gang leader goes to his territory, it's like a lamb entering a tiger's den!

Everyone nodded in agreement, believing it to be a trap.

Dawson leaned back in his chair, his eyes deep and calm.

He didn't rush to refute, but instead pondered in a tone as if talking to himself:

"To be honest, I really want to meet this person."

A genius who, at less than twenty years old, had honed his first-order extreme physical body to such an abnormal level.

It would be a shame not to go and meet them.

"Boss!"

A man sitting to Dawson's left suddenly spoke up.

His name is Engel, the vice leader of the Iron Fist Gang, and the only Extreme Extraordinary Person in the entire gang besides Dawson.

He was thin and had a sinister look in his eyes, like a venomous snake ready to bite at any moment.

Engel said coldly, "Going there would mean a slim chance of survival. We've already assessed Xilun's fighting strength; he's a complete madman."

You can't risk the future of the entire Iron Fist Gang.

Dawson sighed softly, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"Do you think I don't know the danger? But the Brotherhood's territory is right next to our Iron Fist's."

Once he has completed the internal consolidation, a battle between our two companies is inevitable.

This is an inevitable result of resource expansion.

Dawson's tone revealed a deep sense of helplessness and clarity: "If I don't go tomorrow, this kid will definitely use it as an excuse to make trouble."

At that point, we would be deliberately escalating the conflict, giving him a perfectly legitimate reason to start a war.

Engel lowered his head, a fierce glint in his eyes, and gritted his teeth, saying, "They're the ones who started this conflict!"

"No."

Dawson shook his head, reached into the drawer, took out another stack of papers, and threw them on the table.

"Diano is dead. But before that, in order to save his life, he left behind all the letters we secretly bribed him with and used to smuggle arms."

Furthermore, this evidence has already fallen into Xiren's hands, and this letter is a reminder.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

Dawson looked at Engel and said in a heavy tone, "His meaning is very clear: morally, we are in the wrong in this matter."

If we insist on resisting and refusing to give an explanation, then in the eyes of the Metropolitan Police Department and the outside world, it will be our Iron Fist Gang that has provoked the conflict.

"Then, when he wipes us out, it will be a legitimate way to quell the rebellion."

Engel frowned, his fists clenched. He was a man who only believed in force.

"In that case, we've been pushed to the edge of a cliff."

Engel raised his head, his eyes flashing with a crazed killing intent. "Why don't we strike first! Let's lay in wait, and once he walks out of the Brotherhood's gates, we'll take care of Siren!"

Dawson looked at his old brother of over a decade and countered, "Then tell me, how many men would it take to kill Siron? Ten gunmen? Or twenty?"

Engel pondered for a moment, then analyzed seriously: "Ordinary gunmen are useless; his defense is too abnormal. Only an extreme-level expert can counter it."

The two of us will join forces and spend a fortune on the underground black market to hire an extraordinary expert.

Three against one, I think that should be enough to kill him.

However, Dawson firmly shook his head.

"not enough."

"What?" Engel was stunned.

Dawson's voice trembled slightly as he recalled the terrifying scene from the intelligence report of Siron's solo kill of the giant tortoise at Evergreen Lake on a stormy night:

"Three people at the extreme level might be able to defeat him if they join forces, but they absolutely cannot kill him."

That kid's self-healing ability and explosive power are beyond the realm of common sense.

If we fail to kill Siron, and he escapes, we will face his endless and insane revenge.

By then, everything will have been in vain, and the Iron Fist Gang will be utterly destroyed.

Dawson paused for a moment, then added, "Besides, don't forget his identity."

Even Siren cannot be killed. He is not only the branch governor of the Brotherhood, but also a champion knight personally awarded by Fowles, the head of the Daiyu Dojo!

This is an extraordinary individual with official and legitimate status.

Even if we were to manage to kill him, the Metropolitan Police Department and the church would still have to consider their reputation and would inevitably retaliate against us.

Engel scratched his head in frustration: "We can't kill this, we can't go to that! What are we supposed to do? Are we just going to sit here and wait to die, watching him put a knife to our throats?"

The atmosphere in the meeting room was extremely tense. Everyone looked at Dawson, awaiting the decision of this ruthless leader.

Dawson lowered his head, staring at the flickering candlelight on the table, and pondered for a long, long time.

Finally, he slowly raised his head, a resolute glint in his eyes.

"I've decided to go to Moon Lake tonight."

"Moon Lake?" Engel looked up in surprise. "What are you going there for? That's the territory of those fallen nobles. They never interfere in the gang fights in the North District."

Dawson stood up, straightened his collar, and said in a deep voice:

"The rise of Xilun has been too fast, so fast that it has already disrupted the balance of the North District."

We need a stronger force to counterbalance him. I'll go see how things are progressing at Moon Lake regarding that 'thing'.

He turned to Engel and instructed him:

"During my absence, keep all your subordinates in check and close all your venues."

No matter how the Brotherhood provokes you, you are absolutely not allowed to fire the first shot. Understand?

Engel nodded helplessly: "Understood."

……

Meanwhile, in a dark and damp basement not far from the Iron Fist Gang...

This is the North District, a secret stronghold of the Shattered Bone Gang.

The air was filled with a faint smell of blood and formaldehyde.

A pale, bloodless man was leisurely unfolding a secret report from within the Iron Fist Gang.

His fingers were long and slender with distinct joints, and his nails had a sickly grayish-black color.

"To Moon Lake?" The pale man looked at the contents of the secret report, a strange, cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He placed the paper on the flickering candlelight and watched it gradually turn to ashes.

In the darkness, a deep voice came from the corner:

"My lord, that old fox Dawson wants to avoid trouble for now."

If Xilun really takes this opportunity to absorb the Iron Fist Gang, it will likely pose a certain threat to our Bonebreaker Gang as well.

The pale man dusted off his hands and stood up. His eyes gleamed with a sinister light, like that of a venomous snake.

"No, they have to fight."

The man's voice was soft yet chilling: "The Brotherhood and the Iron Fist must not join forces, and we must not allow Siron to take over Dawson's territory without bloodshed."

He walked to a map of the North District hanging on the wall and lightly traced the boundary between the Brotherhood and the Iron Fist.

"That fool Ymir died at the hands of Siren for a few bottles of medicine. I haven't forgotten that debt."

The pale man's eyes suddenly turned fanatical and ferocious. He clenched his fists tightly, as if he wanted to crush the entire North District.

"This place has always been under our control. It should not, and absolutely cannot, give birth to a second 'Ripper'!"

Both Dawson and that Celen must die in their mutual tearing apart!

……

The morning mist, carrying a biting damp chill, resembled a layer of grayish-white shroud, tightly covering the dilapidated streets and alleys of the North District.

Two black vintage cars rolled slowly toward the Brotherhood's headquarters, their heavy tires pushing through the mud and cinders of the potholed road.

The carriage was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco mixed with leather.

Dawson leaned back against the velvet cushion in the back seat, his eyes bloodshot.

He was still exhausted from rushing to Moon Lake last night, but his face was unusually calm, as calm as a stagnant pool.

Beside him, the deputy leader Engel gripped the hem of his coat tightly around his knees, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Boss." Engel's voice broke the deathly silence in the carriage, filled with barely concealed anxiety, "What exactly are you thinking?"

Dawson turned his head slightly and glanced at him, his gaze completely unmoved.

"I just want to see what kind of person Xilun really is."

Dawson exhaled a breath of stale air, his voice low and hoarse, "Faced with the Brotherhood led by Siron, should our Iron Fist Gang fight, make peace, or retreat?"

"We need to see it with our own eyes before we can make a final decision."

Engel hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the gradually familiar street buildings outside the window.

"In two minutes, we'll be entering the Brotherhood's territory."

Eng swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's going to be very dangerous. After all, we didn't bring many people with us this time. If that madman attacks directly, we won't even have a chance to escape unscathed."

Dawson pondered for a moment, then turned his gaze to the thick fog outside the window.

"He probably won't directly break off relations."

Dawson shook his head. "I've studied this man's style of doing things."

He was swift and decisive, capable of single-handedly eliminating even the extreme alien species of Changqing Lake, but he was not a reckless brute who committed murder without regard for the consequences.

Besides, he is, after all, a champion knight from the Daewoo Dojo; he should at least consider the official's reputation and wouldn't resort to underhanded tactics against an envoy on his own turf.

Dawson paused, his brows furrowing slightly, as if he had thought of something even more troublesome.

"Actually, what I'm most worried about isn't Xilun."

Engel frowned, puzzled, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"What I'm worried about is the Bonebreakers." Dawson sighed, his eyes becoming extremely serious. "We're here today to negotiate with the Brotherhood. If we reach some kind of agreement, the Bonebreakers will definitely not stand idly by."

They've ruled this area of ​​the North District for over a decade, and those mad dogs will never allow any of their other factions to grow stronger, much less tolerate the emergence of a second "Ripper" in the North District.

"Was the information kept secret?" Dawson suddenly turned his head and stared intently into Engel's eyes.

Engel straightened his back and answered without hesitation, "They are all brothers I absolutely trust. The news was kept under wraps last night, so there will be absolutely nothing wrong."

Dawson said nothing more, but simply turned his gaze back to the window.

The driver in the front seat whistled frivolously, yawned widely, rolled down the window, and casually tossed a tissue he had used to wipe his nose into the wind.

The car slowly came to a stop outside a large and imposing mansion.

A barbed wire fence was strung along the high red brick wall, and two rows of armed Brotherhood members stood at the entrance.

Their faces were cold and their eyes were like knives scraping against the two cars.

Dawson pushed open the car door and stepped onto the hard stone slab; the cold wind instantly filled his coat.

Engel followed closely behind, and as the two were about to step forward, a stern-faced guard stepped in front of them, his thick arm blocking their way like an iron tower.

"Leave the car here. His Excellency the Governor has ordered that foreign visitors must enter on foot." The guard's voice was flat and emotionless.

Engel frowned, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. Just as he was about to lash out, Dawson gently patted his shoulder and nodded slightly, indicating that he should do as he was told.

The two followed the signs and walked through a long corridor, their boots echoing hollowly on the marble floor.

Upon entering the reception room, the butler, dressed in a well-tailored tuxedo, greeted us with a cheerful smile.

"Distinguished guests, it's windy outside. Please come in and have some hot tea to rest for a while."

The butler's smile was flawless, but his eyes held a condescending air.

Dawson narrowed his eyes, glanced around the empty drawing room, and asked in a deep voice:

"Where is your father? I have already sent a formal invitation and come in person, why doesn't he come out to greet me?"

The butler bowed slightly, maintaining his smiling expression.

"I'm so sorry. At this time, the master is still cultivating in the backyard and is not seeing anyone. Please wait here for a while."

Engel clenched his fist tightly, his bones cracking softly.

He gritted his teeth inwardly: What kind of rule is this? We've barely walked in, and they haven't even served us a cup of tea, and they're already making us wait!

Xilun is clearly trying to intimidate us and deliberately suppress the arrogance of my Iron Fist Gang!

Dawson, however, did not get angry. He stood calmly in place, pondered for a moment, and remained expressionless.

"No need," Dawson said, flicking his sleeve. "I just haven't done my morning exercise yet."

Since your master is cultivating, why don't I go to the backyard and spar with him for a few moves, just to loosen up his muscles?

The butler gave Dawson a deep look, a hint of pity seemingly flashing in his eyes.

"Since Chief Dawson is in such a good mood, he may go to the backyard if he wishes. I will not stop him."

The butler stepped aside, clearing a passageway leading to the backyard.

Eng lowered his voice and said urgently, "Boss, what are you doing?"

This is his territory; what if there's an ambush in the backyard...?

Dawson raised his hand to interrupt him.

"I, Dawson, have never been inferior to anyone in my life."

He straightened his chest, exuding an arrogant aura befitting a top-tier expert. "Having come to the North District today and met this legendary newly crowned champion knight, I am naturally eager to pay my respects."

After saying that, Dawson immediately unbuttoned his coat, took off his heavy jacket, and handed it to Engel.

Inside was a close-fitting black soft armor, faintly gleaming with a metallic sheen.

He strode towards the inner courtyard.

Engel followed closely behind, his right hand already quietly resting on the hilt of his gun at his waist.