Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Laro sat down beside him, his cane resting on his knees.

"You're usually the most diligent in your cultivation," the old man said with a smile, "how come you have the leisure to come out and wait for someone this time?"

Lund did not answer immediately.

He put the extinguished cigarette into his pocket—a long-standing habit, not out of affection, but because he didn't want to leave a trace.

"I heard you took on a disciple?" Laro continued, seemingly to himself, "He seems to have quite a talent."

"It's acceptable."

"Alright?" Laro shook his head with a smile. "I don't believe it. Otherwise, why would you personally come out of the manor to wait in this awful weather?"

Lund withdrew his gaze from the crack, glanced at Laro, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

He simply nodded and did not argue.

The two remained silent for a moment.

More and more people came out of the square, and the noise grew louder and louder.

Some were cheering, some were weeping, and some were gesturing excitedly to the family steward, as if describing the thrilling adventures inside.

Lund stared at those young faces, his gaze gradually drifting away.

Silent for a long time.

He suddenly spoke.

"Mr. Laro."

Laro seemed to have expected this, smiled, and said, "It seems you still have questions."

Lund hesitated for a moment.

That hesitation was completely out of character for his usual calm and composed demeanor, like a piece of steel suddenly revealing its soft interior.

But he still asked.

"My mother, she—"

He only said half the story.

Laro's smile softened slightly as he picked up where he left off.

"She's fine. She just thinks about you sometimes."

Lund's fingers twitched slightly.

Like a child who had done something wrong, he quickly pressed the cigarette butts in his pocket deeper, as if afraid that someone would find them.

Then that person will turn into the most talkative old lady in the world, tirelessly talking about the harms of cigarettes, as if they were the most terrible poison in the world, a hundred times more ferocious than any other kind of poison.

Lund pursed his lips.

He looked somewhat nervous.

His voice lowered, as if he were doing something shameful: "I wrote a letter to my mother, and she..."

"I've finished watching them all."

Laro's voice was calm, but he spoke each word slowly and clearly.

"From the first letter you wrote when you were twenty-two to the one this year, there have been more than seventy letters in total."

She read them all. She carefully stored them in the cabinet under her bed—she even bought a sandalwood-scented cabinet, so even the ink and letters smelled of sandalwood.

Laro paused, his smile deepening.

"Every time I visited her, she would take out those letters and show off to us that she had a filial son."

But you absolutely refuse to let me see what you've written, as if you're afraid I'll damage even the slightest bit.

Lund lowered his head.

Something flickered in his eyes, like a memory, or something else entirely.

He took out a bronze mirror from his pocket.

The mirror surface was somewhat mottled, and the edges were polished to a shine, clearly indicating that it had been repeatedly rubbed countless times.

I took it with me when I left home at the age of twenty-two.

A young face was reflected in the bronze mirror.

The youthful spirit and carefree days of when I left six years ago still seem to linger in some corner of the mirror. But the face reflected now—

Still young.

But he rarely smiles anymore.

"I'll go back as soon as possible," Lund said calmly, putting away the bronze mirror.

Laro looked at him and sighed.

"You're doing something few people do, Lund. It's difficult. I rarely see anyone do it."

The old man patted the cane on his knee.

"But I don't doubt your courage and ability."

Lund shook his head.

I'm not very confident.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something.

But in the end, he didn't say it.

He just thought to himself—

Perhaps this shouldn't have happened. Perhaps his mother didn't want him to be away for so long. But he was a foolish child, only able to do what he thought was right.

So he took some time to start a club for ordinary people.

So he took in several disciples.

But he didn't know whether what he did was right or wrong.

On the other side of the crack, the flow of people gradually thinned out.

Laro stood up and brushed the snow off his coat.

"Then I'll be going now. Young Master Raphael is out."

He took two steps, then turned back.

"Lund".

"Um?"

Laro looked into his eyes, his smile carrying a hint of the compassion unique to the elderly.

"In the days you were away, your mother imagined what you would look like when you grew up."

After saying this, the old man turned and left, with two guards following closely behind, their figures quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Lund sat alone for a while.

Then he took out the bronze mirror again and looked at his face.

The person in the mirror—

Still young.

But there's more to it than meets the eye.

He used to laugh a lot. Full of youthful vigor and sharp wit.

Now, those sharp edges have gradually been worn down by the years and certain heavy things.

It hasn't become dull.

They've hidden it.

"teacher."

A voice came from in front of me.

Lund looked up.

Xilun stood two steps away, holding his umbrella at a distance.

His black combat uniform was covered with tiny ice crystals, his face was calm, but there was a thin layer of fatigue in his eyes.

A barely visible gold thread was wrapped around her waist—to outsiders it was just a decorative pattern on her clothes, but Lund's gaze lingered there for a moment.

"Why did you suddenly think of looking in the mirror?" Xilun's lips curved slightly.

Lund put the bronze mirror away and shook his head.

"Let's go."

The two walked side by side toward the outside of the square.

Scattered murmurs could be heard in the corridor.

"Why isn't Ross out?"

"And Ang Lee and Desac Lee... haven't come out either."

"What's going on with the Silver Hand? There aren't any of them?"

"Where is Deford, the young master of the Shudalk family? And his father?"

The noise was deafening, but the underlying surprise and unease spread through the crowd like an undercurrent.

Xilun walked on expressionlessly, without turning his head or speeding up; his pace remained as steady as ever.

Lund, however, sensed something.

He couldn't quite describe the feeling—it was like the breathing of the young man beside him, which seemed a bit heavier than when he had entered seven days ago.

It's not weakness.

It's deeper.

After they had walked a little further, they came to a quiet stone corridor with old walls covered with icicles on both sides. Their footsteps echoed crisply on the ground.

There was no one around.

Lund casually remarked, "Didn't Ross come out?"

Xilun said, "Yes."

Lund's steps did not stop.

"Did you kill him?"

His tone was calm, even casual, as if he were asking about today's weather.

Xilun glanced at him.

Lund's expression remained indifferent, his gaze fixed on the gray sky at the end of the corridor ahead.

It was just a casual question.

Xilun casually replied.

"Yes. He brought a retainer to try and kill me, but I seized the opportunity and killed him instead."

Lund paused slightly in his steps.

Retainers of second-tier extraordinary beings.

He was also killed.

He didn't speak, but the surprise in his heart was far greater than he had expected. He tilted his head to examine Xiren's body—

The way Qi and blood flow has changed.

Seven days ago, although Xilun's Qi and blood were abundant, the rhythm of its circulation still carried the characteristics of the first-level extreme realm.

And now-

That rhythm has almost disappeared.

Instead, there is a deep and restrained pulse, like a giant whale lurking at the bottom of an abyss, each heartbeat stirring the surrounding air currents.

Lund was suddenly taken aback.

"You're about to advance to the second tier?"

Xilun nodded.

"Once I return to the North District, I will begin my attempt to become a second-tier extraordinary being."

Lund remained silent for a long time.

for a long time.

He thought he had a good enough assessment of his disciple's talent.

But within seven days—

From the first-order extreme realm to almost touching the threshold of the second order.

This was much, much faster than he had imagined.

"It's much faster than I expected," he finally said, his voice carrying a complexity he himself didn't realize. "It seems there are many opportunities involved."

Xilun nodded slightly.

"Indeed. I've gained quite a lot from it."

He didn't elaborate.

Lund did not press the matter further.

The two continued walking along the stone corridor, with icicles dripping and melting overhead.

After walking about twenty steps, Lund asked, "Is there any danger?"

Xilun pondered for a long time.

"There might be one."

He carefully considered his words.

"In a temple on a mountain within the wondrous realm, there are murals inscribed with breathing techniques. Many people try to comprehend them inside, but most cannot understand them—"

He paused.

"The Hawke family thinks I may have learned their breathing techniques."

Lund's brow twitched slightly.

"Have you studied it?"

Xilun shook his head.

He paused, then added, "But I did happen to acquire a breathing technique. Not from the murals—it was another stroke of luck."

He did not say the name of the breathing method.

Lund didn't ask.

At the end of the stone corridor is an old wooden door, beyond which lies a courtyard covered in snow.

Lund thought for a moment and asked, "Do you still need the second level of breathing techniques?"

Xilun thought for a while.

"It should still be needed."

He felt that although the two breathing techniques he had mastered were compatible, after advancing to the second tier, both internal refinement and external plundering would require higher-level techniques to support them.

Lund pushed open the wooden door, and a cold wind carrying snowflakes rushed in.

"Go buy a ticket back to the North District first," he said. "Go back as soon as possible and get started on the breakthrough."

He turned around and looked at Xilen.

"I have a few breathing techniques here, I'll send them to you. Use them if you can, otherwise it's fine."

Xilun nodded.

"it is good."

A single, concise word.

The two parted ways in front of the wooden door.

Xilun turned and walked quickly out of the courtyard, his black figure disappearing further and further into the snow.

Lund stood on the porch, watching the figure disappear around the corner.

He didn't call out to him.

They didn't say much more.

A fire was burning in the fireplace of the manor.

The orange-red light reflected off the dark wooden walls, bathing the entire study in a warm yellow hue.

It was already 7 p.m.

Lund sat at his desk, a thick parchment-covered book open in front of him.

The pages of the booklet were yellowed and the edges were curled, clearly indicating that it had been read countless times.

The book is filled with the names, characteristics, applicable stages, and his personal annotations of various breathing techniques.

Some annotations were written in ink, and some in pencil.

The ink has faded, but the pencil marks remain clear.

Lund turned one page, then another.

His gaze lingered on a particular line for a moment.

"Golden Elixir Earth Rock Breathing Method, suitable for Level 2, external release of Qi and blood. Highly compatible with power-type extraordinary pathways. Disadvantage—extremely heavy load on the meridians, requiring the use of high-level meridian-protecting potions..."

He shook his head and rolled over.

"Mysterious Water Breathing Technique, suitable for the early stages of the second tier, with a affinity for water. Its internal circulation system can slowly repair hidden injuries to the internal organs..."

Lund drew a small circle next to this line with the tip of his pen.

Continue flipping through the pages.

"The 'Swallowing Light and Drawing Into the Moon' Breathing Technique can be practiced at both the second and third levels. It is extremely rare, and its core principle is the resonance of the internal organs..."

He stopped.

His gaze swept over this line repeatedly.

Then he picked up a pen and wrote a line of small characters next to it:

"This method requires an extremely strong physical foundation; otherwise, the resonance backlash will destroy the practitioner's internal organs. But if Xilun's physical strength is as he has demonstrated—"

The pen tip hovers above the paper.

Lund thought about it for a moment, but ultimately didn't continue writing.

He sighed and marked this page as well.

Over the next hour or so, he selected four breathing techniques from the booklet.

He copied each one back onto clean white paper, his handwriting neat and clear, even the punctuation was precise.

He also marked several key operational nodes in red ink, adding a few concise annotations next to them.

This is not a random copy.

This is a teacher preparing lessons meticulously for his only student.

After copying the last word, Lund put down his pen, neatly folded the four pages, and stuffed them into a brown envelope.

He sealed the opening with wax and wrote an address on the cover.

Then he looked up at the desolate manor.

Outside the study was a dimly lit corridor. At the end of the corridor was an empty living room. Beyond the living room was a snow-covered courtyard.

There was no other sound.

The only sound was the occasional crackling of firewood in the fireplace.

"Savi".

He shouted.

Footsteps came from the depths of the corridor, steady and crisp.

The butler, Saiwei, pushed open the door and came in.

He was wearing a dark butler's uniform, with a clean-cut face and a few gray hairs at his temples.

He looked to be in his early forties, but the composure and vigilance in his eyes were far beyond what an ordinary butler should possess.

"Young Master."

"Come in."

Saiwei walked to the desk.

Lund handed over the envelope.

"Send the letter to this address."

Saiwei took it and looked at the address on the cover.

His gaze sharpened slightly.

"This is... a branch of the Brotherhood, right?"

Lund patted the ink dust off his hands, his tone indifferent.

"He is indeed working at a fraternity branch now. What's wrong?"

Saiwei carefully considered his words.

"I read in the newspaper that the Brotherhood seems to have recently fallen out with the Bonebreakers."

Lund didn't stop; he put the pen holder back in its place and closed the booklet.

Savi continued, "The leader of the Bonebreakers, Grossa, seems to be planning to personally kill the Brotherhood's new governor to avenge himself."

He paused, then lowered his voice.

"I heard that the twelve brothers of Grossa have taken over one of the Brotherhood's strongholds."

Lund's finger paused for a moment on the booklet cover.

He then pushed the booklet to the corner of the table and leaned back in his chair.

"The twelve brothers of Grossa..."

He repeated the title.

The core group of Grossa, the leader of the Shattered Bones Gang, consists of twelve people, each a seasoned and ruthless veteran of the first tier.

They were not ordinary thugs.

They are the foundation upon which the Shattered Bone Gang has dominated the North District for over a decade.

"Where is Grossa himself?" Lund asked.

"He's not here. The newspapers say he went to the Wolf Plains two months ago and hasn't returned yet, but he might be back soon. Without Grossa's instructions, no one else dares to make any moves."