Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The black sedan drove smoothly under the gloomy sky, eventually coming to a stop at a street corner near Daewoo Dojo.

Xilun pushed open the car door, holding the heavy alloy gun disguised as a black umbrella in his hand. His leather boots made a dull sound as they stepped on the wet stone pavement.

He slightly raised the rim of the umbrella, his deep gaze sweeping across the surroundings.

The area in front of the Daewoo Dojo was quiet, with only a few apprentices in dojo robes sweeping fallen leaves on the steps.

Occasionally, a few noisy sounds would drift from the shops on the next street, only to be quickly swept away by the wind.

Xilun walked thoughtfully up the steps. He remembered that the people who participated in the Snow Mountain Wonderland seemed to have gathered on the first basement floor.

I don't know in what form that so-called entrance to the wonder exists within the dojo.

As he walked, he sorted through the remaining memories of mysticism in his mind.

Mysticism, this obscure and ancient discipline, is divided into four major branches:

Medicine making, casting, techniques, and the field.

According to the ancient books he read in the library, the field is based on words and symbols and can draw on the invisible forces between heaven and earth to form an independent space that distorts the laws of the present world.

Legend has it that ancient mystical masters could alter the course of mountains and rivers and create prisons simply by carving a few strokes on rocks.

Even when facing those terrifying mythical creatures, it is by no means weak thanks to the unfathomable power of its domain.

Unfortunately, the mysticism of today has long since declined.

The so-called inheritance is nothing more than later generations conducting extremely superficial research on some incomplete ancient mysterious stone carvings.

Xilun had been pondering whether he should also study a form of mysticism as a trump card in addition to force.

However, being at the bottom of society, he had no suitable way or mentor to access this kind of knowledge that was monopolized by powerful forces.

Secondly, his physical physique is currently in an absolute period of growth through extraordinary means. The "Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique" and the "Bone Forging Iron Armor Ascetic Cultivation Method" have already drained almost all of his energy.

Although he knew in his heart that the occult had irreplaceable strategic importance, Siron was an extremely rational person.

He knew perfectly well that before the power system underwent a qualitative change, being distracted by other things was a major taboo.

Doing your job well in close combat and honing your physical body to its limits doesn't necessarily mean you have to study mysticism as well.

At present, he lacks both urgency and necessity for mysticism.

The corridor was dimly lit, and the sound of leather boots echoed in the empty passageway.

From a distance, a young man dressed in extremely simple clothes approached.

He wore a gray trench coat without badges, his hands in his pockets, and his steps were light yet carried a certain indescribable rhythm.

Xilun glanced at him indifferently and raised an eyebrow.

This person looked unfamiliar, but his steps were steady and his breathing was long and even, clearly indicating that he was also a master at the extreme level.

Are you also here to participate in the Snow Mountain Wonderland event?

Just as Xilun was about to look away, maintaining his usual aloof demeanor, the man instead turned his gaze straight at him.

His gaze lacked the wariness and ruthlessness of a low-level gangster; instead, it carried a condescending calmness.

He brushed his hand across Xilun's cold face, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"You are Xilen." This is a statement, carrying an undeniable certainty.

Xilun stopped, his right thumb instinctively touching the mechanism on the umbrella handle, and nodded slightly, saying, "Who are you?"

The man smiled calmly and said, "My name is Raphael, Raphael Colt."

Xiren paused, a flicker of emotion crossing his usually stagnant eyes, and blurted out instinctively, "You're from the Colt family?"

The Colt family.

In the pyramid of the elite in Saint Laurent, this is an enormous and undeniable structure.

This is an ancient family with a hereditary viscount title, which has a deep involvement and monopoly in highly profitable industries such as real estate, mining, and pharmaceuticals.

The extraordinary forces secretly cultivated by their family far surpass the entire Brotherhood that occupies the Southern District.

Seeing the slight change in Xilun's expression, Raphael chuckled, "What's wrong? Surprised?"

Only then did Xilun truly begin to examine the young nobleman before him.

His vital energy was contained to the extreme, like a calm surface of water, but beneath the surface, there was definitely a violent power at the extreme level.

Raphael shrugged and smiled amiably:

"You are very famous now."

Many ordinary people have heard of your beast-like fighting style on the streets, and some small and medium-sized families have tried to recruit you.

However, I heard that you rejected all offers and chose to stay with the Brotherhood, becoming a pioneer governor in the North.

Xilun's eyes regained their coldness, and he calmly said, "Yes, respond to the mission."

Raphael stepped forward, lowered his voice, and his tone revealed an undisguised solicitation:

"Aren't you considering accepting family support? I personally think highly of your potential."

It's a real waste of your talents for you to stay in the quagmire of the fraternity.

A cold smile appeared on Xilun's lips: "It is an honor to have you value me."

I thought my humble achievements were nothing compared to what the noble viscount family had achieved.

Raphael waved his hand, his gaze becoming serious:

"Others may not know, but I am quite interested in extraordinary methods, and I usually practice breathing techniques diligently."

I was also there in person for your final game against Rose.

In the stands, it was an absolutely unforgettable match.

You fought until you were completely exhausted, squeezing out every last bit of strength from your withered bodies, all to utterly defeat your opponent.

Raphael recalled the bloody scene and couldn't help but shake his head, his eyes filled with admiration:

"Just based on the kind of mad dog-like fighting spirit you've shown, I think investing in you at this time is definitely the right thing to do."

The Colt family has never hesitated to raise real wolves.

Xilun didn't immediately refuse, but simply said, "I will seriously consider it."

Raphael was clearly not so easily appeased; he blinked and said with a hint of seduction:

"Why don't you tell me what your specific requirements are for the funding to be included in the program?"

I know you commoner geniuses are proud and arrogant, but if you're willing to be included in the Colt family genealogy, I can persuade my uncle to introduce his daughter to you.

It might just be a wonderful marriage.

Raphael smiled and added:

"My uncle's daughter is now a nurse at a high-end church hospital. She has many suitors and is absolutely gorgeous."

With this status, you are a true nobleman.

To be included in the breed register? To be bred?

A wave of uncontrollable sneer and disgust washed over Xilun.

While he was in the hospital, his teacher Lund had already analyzed this method of funding that treated people as breeding machines and puppets.

Xilun shook his head without hesitation and said, "I'm sorry, Young Master Raphael. I do not accept any form of sponsorship for inclusion in the genealogy. My surname will not be changed."

Raphael did not show anger at being rejected; instead, he smiled knowingly.

"I know, otherwise you wouldn't have remained completely neutral towards any major power in the North District over the past three months."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, a sharp, probing glint in his eyes, and asked:

"But I'm curious, do you plan to stay in the gangster world all the time?"

"Didn't you ever consider accepting equal funding from any organization? You need to understand, resources beyond Tier 2 can't be gathered just by collecting protection money."

The Tusol family flashed through Xiren's mind instantly.

As the only viscount family in the northern district, their heritage is unfathomable.

To establish a firm foothold in the North District, develop Brotherhood branches, and open up trade corridors between the North and South, he would inevitably need the other party's tacit approval or even assistance.

Perhaps at some appropriate time in the future, a cooperation involving some kind of exchange of benefits will be reached.

However, that was just an idea, and he didn't intend to reveal it to anyone.

Siren composed himself, shook his head again, and said, "Thank you for the Colt family's kindness, but I can manage for now."

Raphael sighed and said, "What a pity."

He looked into Xilen's eyes, then suddenly changed the subject, his tone turning somewhat cold:

"However, I've heard that you have quite a grudge against the Ocelli family."

Xilun's eyes narrowed slightly, and his fingers gripping the umbrella handle tightened unconsciously. He said in a deep voice, "There is some friction."

Raphael sneered and said:

"What do you think the Ocelli family will do with you?"

"Originally, minor frictions and grudges at the grassroots level would have been fine, but with you winning the junior knight fighting championship in front of tens of thousands of people and beating Ross like a dead dog, the head of the Ocelli family probably has to think carefully."

Raphael leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper, yet every word pierced the heart:

"If you successfully advance to the third tier of extraordinary beings, or even higher..."

A powerful commoner who hates them would definitely be a fatal threat to the Ocelli family.

Nobility never allows hidden dangers to grow.

Xilun paused, glancing at Raphael's ambiguous smile.

Raphael immediately straightened up, his easygoing smile returning: "I was just saying, don't be so nervous."

Xilun pondered silently.

Raphael wouldn't speak without reason. Could this be an implication that the Ocelli family would use their resources to plot against him in this snowy, unfettered place without any legal constraints?

He suppressed the murderous intent in his heart, bowed slightly, and said, "Thank you for the reminder, Young Master Raphael."

Raphael glanced at Siron's solitary figure and said:

"If you have a good family background, you should try to get your family to appoint a powerful retainer or attendant to accompany you."

"In Wonderland, bringing helpers is allowed."

Xilun gave a self-deprecating smile: "Too bad I don't have that kind of thing."

Raphael stared at him intently and said, "So you still want to go in? Even though you know it's a dead end."

Xilun turned his head and looked at the staircase leading to the basement, the entrance to the abyss-like passage.

He recalled the inviolable pact with the woman in the black robe, and his own intense desire for higher powers.

"I want to give it a try." Xiren's voice didn't tremble at all; it was as hard as a piece of raw iron.

Even if someone were to plot against me from within, wouldn't that be easy?

Why not just stay with the group and follow the majority?

Under the watchful eyes of the public, even nobles dared not openly break the rules established by the church.

He didn't think it was a big deal.

The two walked side by side into the depths of the corridor.

As he passed a tightly closed oak door, Celen's brow suddenly twitched.

His blood and qi surged slightly, and the "Far-Eared Listening" talent stripped from his alien species instinctively flickered, his ears keenly picking up the subtle sounds coming through the thick walls.

From a room in the distance, the intermittent voices of a man and a woman drifted into my ears.

It was Fowles, the owner of the Daewoo Dojo, and his wife, Xiuna.

The woman's voice, trembling with suppressed anger, carried a harsh tone:

"Fowles, you're such a love-struck fool! For years I've suspected you've been seeing that vixen Risa."

"How many years has it been? You're still thinking about this woman! You're even planning to take advantage of this magical realm opening to have a secret rendezvous with her!"

Then, the room fell into a deathly silence, with only heavy breathing.

Seeing that Xilun paused slightly, Raphael asked with some confusion:

"We're almost there, why are you spacing out? What are you thinking about?"

Xilun shook his head. His ability to hear distant sounds was quickly cut off, and once he was far away, he could no longer hear anything.

He casually replied, "It's nothing, I was just thinking about the environment in the Wonderland."

He seemed lost in thought, as if Lord Fowles and his wife were arguing about a past romantic affair.

But that's irrelevant to him. In this cruel city, the less you know, the longer you live.

Without giving it much thought, Xilun banished all distractions and fixed his sharp gaze on the door at the end of the passage, from which a cacophony of voices emanated.

Pushing open the heavy metal door at the end, one finds an extremely spacious, enormous house located near the rocky back of the mountain.

There were no gas lamps lit in the room; instead, the room was illuminated by several extraordinary mineral lights embedded in the dome, emitting a faint blue glow. The entire space exuded a depressing and cold atmosphere.

Xilun, carrying a black umbrella, stepped into the room at a leisurely pace.

His gaze, like a cold scanner, quickly swept across the entire room.

Many familiar faces were sitting inside the room.

The Platinum Club's genius, Rose, whose ribs were broken by him in the ring; Marshall, with a gloomy face and eyes like a viper; Ang Lee with the Silver Hand; and the burly Xiu Kuo.

These are all young elites who have shone brightly in junior knight fighting competitions.

However, what made Xilun's eyes narrow instantly was not these defeated opponents, but rather some people standing beside them whose auras were clearly different, besides these familiar faces.

These people clearly looked middle-aged, and some were even elderly with gray hair.

They stood quietly around Ross and Ang Lee, among other noblemen, dressed in inconspicuous dark uniforms, like shadow guards.

They didn't exude any aura or blood fluctuations, but the profound sense of oppression from countless life-and-death battles, with killing intent ingrained in their very bones, stung Xilun's skin as if it were a tangible thing.

Xilun lowered his eyes thoughtfully.

This is what Raphael meant by the foundation of a great family—its retainers and its followers.

He subtly sensed the breathing frequency and subtle muscle movements of the elderly men, pondered for a moment, and came to a chilling conclusion.

This is a second-order extraordinary being.

That is, the "tearers" who have truly crossed the threshold of life.