Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

At this point, Feslow looked at Siren with eager eyes: "Now that you've mastered the sense of qi, the next step is to train your combat skills to an expert level. Then you can apply to Instructor Ryan for the qualification of a 'contracted combat athlete'."

Coincidentally, Saint Laurent City uses the same skill level system for breathing techniques as the Crimson Editor.

Beginner, Proficient, Expert, Master!

"And then what?" Xilun asked the crucial question.

"After you sign the contract, your mentor, Renn, will write you a letter of introduction." Feslow's eyes gleamed. "With that letter, you can get a position in some large chambers of commerce, security companies, or even the private armies of nobles. Those are real, respectable jobs, with insurance, pensions, and even access to more profound and extraordinary knowledge."

This is a clear upward trend.

They crawled out of the muddy puddles, washed off the mud, changed into clean clothes, and became "people" in this steampunk world.

Just then, a figure walked over and plopped down opposite them.

It's Kanavi.

Although this kid has been slacking off lately, his quick wit has kept him from falling too far behind.

"What are you chatting about? It's so lively." Kanavi wiped his sweat, still clutching his old pocket watch that he had used for who knows how many years.

"Let's talk about what kind of job we'll look for in the future," Xilun said.

Kanavi's eyes lit up: "I've also developed my first bit of Qi strength, although it's still as weak as a hair, but it's a basic level. Do you guys have any tips?"

Silen didn't speak, but looked at Feslow.

Feslow repeated the story of the baron, then added, "I plan to finish the remaining four weeks of training with Instructor Renn and hone my martial arts skills. Then I'll ask that young master if he needs a knight's squire."

"A squire?" Kanavi clicked his tongue. "That's a good job. Although it sounds like a servant, it's a reserve position for nobles. If you can become one, you'll not only have no worries about food and clothing, but you'll also have a better chance of acquiring powerful breathing techniques and fighting skills, and even some occult knowledge. Plus, you won't easily offend anyone; you just need to focus on serving your master."

Feslow nodded, clearly indicating that this was a choice he had made after careful consideration.

For ordinary people without connections, attaching themselves to the powerful and wealthy is the safest path to advancement.

Kanavi then turned to look at Celen: "What do you think, Celen?"

Xilun leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the ceiling fan spinning, its blades cutting through the stale air.

"I don't know many people."

Xilun's voice was calm, "Any job will do, as long as it's better than moving containers at the docks and pays a little more."

Kanavi stroked his chin, his eyes darted around, and suddenly lowered his voice.

"As for the dock area... isn't that under the Brotherhood's jurisdiction?"

Xilun nodded.

Brotherhood.

They controlled the warehousing, transportation, and underground smuggling networks at several docks in the lower city, collecting protection money and managing foremen.

"You could go check out the Brotherhood's headquarters," Kanavi said after a moment's thought. "Perhaps you could be a foreman."

"Supervisor?" Xilun frowned slightly.

The image of Morgan's fleshy face and the leather whip that was always stained with blood and sweat flashed into his mind.

“Morgan is the foreman,” Celen said. “That’s a lucrative job; most people don’t get it.”

"That was before."

Kanavi chuckled. "Things have changed lately. The Brotherhood has been clashing with the Iron Fist gang from the next block a few times recently, losing quite a few men in the process of fighting over some newly opened cargo docks. I heard several foremen and underlings have died."

"They are in dire need of manpower and need to hire three supervisors."

Kanavi held up three fingers and shook them. "Just for the Greywater River area, we need to recruit three people, and we probably haven't filled all the positions yet."

Xiren's heart skipped a beat.

Supervisor.

No need to carry bags like livestock, no need to shiver in the cold wind.

Holding a whip, he directed others to work.

There is a fixed salary every month, plus a cut of the labor wages.

More importantly, it is a symbol of power.

In the dock area, the overseer was like a local tyrant, controlling the livelihoods of dozens of people.

"If we could do it, that would be great." Xilun narrowed his eyes, his tone remaining calm.

Have you thought this through?

Canavie's smile faded, and he said seriously, "Every profession has its good and bad. Take Feslow, for example. Becoming a knight's squire is the right path. Although it's slower, it's more stable. Becoming a foreman..."

He paused, glanced around, and continued, "That requires a silver tongue and ruthlessness. You can't offend the higher-ups, and you have to keep the laborers in check. It's a job where you risk your life. The Brotherhood is full of shrewd people and desperados; there's a lot of backstabbing and infighting going on."

Xilun nodded slightly: "I know that."

Of course he knew.

Morgan, that tyrant, was able to hold onto that position for so many years not only because of his uncle's connections, but also because of his ruthless methods and ability to change his stance according to the wind.

Everything has its risks; we can't throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Regardless of whether he has other options, even if he does, would they be any better?

"Speaking of the occult."

Kanavi suddenly changed the subject, looking at Xilen, "How's your study of that 'Basic Grammar of Classical Literature' that I borrowed from you?"

Xiren closed his eyes, and the contents of the book appeared in his mind.

Those obscure characters and convoluted grammatical structures, aided by the crimson panel, were etched into his memory like a brand.

"I've learned about 60-70%," Xilun said conservatively, opening his eyes.

Kanavi was stunned, his mouth agape: "Sixty or seventy percent? It's only been four weeks!"

He looked at Xilen as if she were a monster. He had spent half a year studying that book, and could barely understand half of it.

"Pretty efficient..." Kanavi muttered, then shook his head. "But language alone isn't enough. After you finish learning, you'll need to find some intermediate-level textbooks for chemistry and biology."

"Chemistry and biology?"

“Yes,” Kanavi explained. “Mysticism isn’t just about chanting spells. The preparation of potions, the processing of biological materials, and the arrangement of ritual arrays all involve chemical reactions and biological structures. Without understanding these, even if you get the recipe, you can only concoct a pot of poison.”

Xilun nodded thoughtfully.

"Thanks," Xilun said.

He silently outlined his next plan in his mind.

The first step is to continue practicing breathing techniques and police combat skills, especially the "Bone-Crushing Fist" move, which must be mastered as soon as possible to enhance strength and protect oneself.

The second step is to pass the assessment of mentor Renn, become a contracted fighter, and obtain the club's endorsement.

The third step is to have Mentor Ryan write a letter of introduction.

Xilun's gaze passed through the window and fell upon the hazy sky in the distance.

That's the direction of the dock area, with rows of chimneys billowing black smoke.