Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun closed his eyes and pondered in the hot water.

His thoughts quickly snapped out of the brief moment of relaxation and returned to the core issue.

Grossa.

The leader of the Shattered Bone Gang, a second-tier extraordinary being, the Ripper.

The name was like a thorn, stuck right in the middle of all his plans.

The steward had previously reported that Grossa had gone to the Wolf Plains in search of the Blood Source Fruit and was not expected to return for two or three months.

But the word "expectation" is never a bargaining chip to gamble with your life.

Xilun pondered.

He recalled that when he underwent his first baptism and breakthrough, he started practicing his internal energy at night, and by the time he had truly completed the transformation, it was already the next morning.

All night long.

During that time, his consciousness will enter a semi-ethereal state, his body will undergo a violent transformation, and everything in the outside world will be isolated from his perception.

In other words, that was his most vulnerable moment.

If Grossa suddenly appears during the break between my breakthrough to the second tier...

Everything would be for naught.

No, it's not just a case of failing at the last hurdle.

If the breakthrough process is forcibly interrupted, the qi and blood will be disordered, and the meridians will be disordered. At best, the cultivation level will regress; at worst, it will lead to serious consequences.

Xilun didn't continue thinking about it.

He dared not gamble.

He was betting that if he took the regeneration potion immediately, Grossa would just happen not to appear.

This kind of gambling isn't his style.

Grossa might be coming back, at least that's what he told Iman.

Xilun pondered for a long time in the hot water.

Ultimately, he made a decision.

After dealing with Grossa, take the regeneration potion.

Address the threats first, then seek a breakthrough.

This is the safest option.

But problems arose.

How big is the gap between myself and a second-tier extraordinary being?

Xilun slowly raised his right hand, palm facing up.

His movements slightly stirred the water, causing the petals to scatter.

Then, a dark mark emerged from the depths of his palm.

That was the first bloodstain.

It was pitch black, with a clear and deep outline, and a scarlet blood aura lingered on it like a wisp of smoke.

The Blood Seal of Perfect Cultivation.

A terrifying force.

Originating from the bloodline talent of the Earth Blood Bat Dragon, it is bloody slaughter.

In the instincts of that ancient alien species, this blood seal was the ultimate weapon forged by hunting countless living beings and absorbing their life essence.

In Xilun's hands, it was given an even more astonishing performance.

He stared at the bloodstain on his palm, muttering to himself.

"This blood seal has been cultivated to perfection..."

"Legend has it that a perfected Blood Seal possesses destructive power comparable to that of a second-tier extraordinary being."

"But to what extent can it actually be utilized..."

He wasn't sure.

After all, the second-tier extraordinary beings previously killed with the Blood Seal were Rox, Lidsack, and Dean.

They were either severely injured and on the verge of death, or suppressed to the first level by the laws of the strange realm.

He has never fought a true, fully-fledged second-tier extraordinary being.

Xilun's fingers slightly closed, the bloodstain sinking back into his palm and disappearing.

He thought for a moment and then tried to activate several different forms of the blood seal in the water.

Blood needle, blood palm, blood brick.

Each activation allows one to feel the immense power contained within the blood seal.

But he wasn't sure.

In actual combat, is this power sufficient against a fully-fledged second-tier extraordinary being?

Xilun shook his head, no longer dwelling on it.

He got up, dried himself off, and went back to the bedroom.

I picked up the watch from the bedside table and glanced at it.

Eight o'clock.

The rain outside the window was still falling, but it had subsided considerably.

The distant horizon was pitch black, devoid of starlight and moonlight.

Xilun put the watch back in its place and yawned.

Then he lay down.

The quilt was dry and warm, carrying the scent of sunshine.

His body sank into the bed, and his muscles finally relaxed completely.

It was pitch black.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep.

I felt the darkness all around me, a thick, enveloping, and reassuring darkness.

Consciousness slowly sank into it.

Like a stone sinking into the deep sea.

Silently.

……

When he regained consciousness, Xilun did not move.

He first looked at the moonlight by the bedside.

The rain has stopped.

Moonlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, casting a narrow, silvery band of light on the floor.

He blinked, feeling his body.

I'm full of energy and not sleepy at all.

The injury has fully healed while I was asleep.

Xilun turned to the side and glanced at his watch again.

Three o'clock in the morning.

Seven hours.

For an extraordinary individual at the peak of the first-tier extreme realm, seven hours of deep sleep is enough to restore everything.

He threw back the covers, sat up, and walked barefoot to his desk.

The moonlight fell perfectly onto the tabletop.

Xilun thought for a moment and took out two handwritten booklets from the hidden compartment.

One of them is "The Ascetic Method of Forging Bones and Iron Armor".

One of them is "The Night Raven's Broken Wings".

These are all extraordinary fighting techniques he acquired from different sources, one for offense and one for defense, one for movement and one for stillness.

He first opened the book "The Ascetic Method of Forging Bones and Iron Armor".

He has mastered this fighting style to the expert level.

In actual combat, this layer of iron armor protected him from countless fatal injuries and was one of the reasons why he dared to withstand bullets with his bare body.

But becoming an expert is not the end.

According to the booklet, this ascetic practice is divided into five levels: beginner, proficient, expert, master, and transcendent.

For beginners, a thin film of energy condenses on the skin's surface, which can withstand the slashes of ordinary swords and knives; with practice, it becomes even more resilient.

Expert level: The energy penetrates into the gaps between muscles and skin, forming a dense layer of armor, strong enough to withstand the full force of attacks from the level of the baptized, and even deflect large-caliber bullets.

And master level.

Xilun's gaze lingered on that line of text.

"When one cultivates to the level of a master, the iron armor penetrates from the outside in, and the energy flows through the bones and fascia, forming an absolute defense that is integrated inside and out. This layer of iron armor alone is enough to withstand the full force of a second-tier extraordinary cultivator."

He continued reading.

"If one cultivates to the extraordinary realm, even if one's cultivation is only at the first level, it is enough to withstand the continuous attacks of multiple second-level extraordinary individuals, or to fight against extraordinary individuals at the second-level extreme level without being at a disadvantage."

Xilun's brow furrowed slightly.

The extraordinary level is too far off, so let's leave it aside for now.

But master level...

If I can advance the Bone Forging Iron Armor ascetic training method to the master level in a short period of time, then when facing Grossa, I will at least not be penetrated by a single blow.

Unfortunately, the leap from expert to master is not something that can be achieved overnight.

He closed the booklet and put it aside.

Then I opened "The Night Raven's Broken Wings".

He had never practiced this secret technique.

There are two reasons.

First, he had previously focused all his energy on the practice of breathing techniques, since breathing techniques are the foundation and the source of all power.

Now, the Great Sea Whale Guiding Technique has reached the fifth level of perfection, and the Great Thunder Breathing Technique has also been mastered. With a solid foundation, there is still energy to spare.

Secondly, and more importantly, this movement technique demands extremely high physical fitness.

Xilun flipped through the descriptions in the booklet, his brows gradually furrowing.

The Night Raven's Broken Wing Step places extremely demanding requirements on the skin and flesh of the cultivator.

Moreover, even at the next level of physical fitness, the requirements are by no means low.

Xilun pondered to himself.

Even now, at the peak of the first-order extreme realm, with physical strength far exceeding that of others of the same level, he is still somewhat lacking.

To truly master this movement technique, one must advance to at least the second rank, complete the perfect tempering of the skin and flesh, and simultaneously look towards the cultivation of the tendons and bones before reaching the threshold of entry.

but……

He continued flipping through the pages, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

The booklet was written in extremely solemn strokes.

"The Night Raven's Broken Wing Step, if mastered, even if only at the expert level, is enough to maneuver freely amidst the siege of several enemies of the same level."

Xilun's heart skipped a beat.

He was both surprised and delighted.

What does this mean?

This means that if one cultivates this movement technique after advancing to the second tier, even if it only reaches the expert level, one can escape unscathed from the siege of several second-tier extraordinary individuals.

This is simply amazing.

He was about to continue flipping through the pages.

Suddenly, I heard a noise.

The noise was so subtle that an ordinary person would never hear it.

But Xilun's "far-sounding" talent allowed him to hear every sound from dozens of meters away in the quiet of the night.

The soft rustling of branches.

The sound of footsteps rubbing against tree bark.

And also, breathing.

Heavy, weathered breathing, deliberately suppressed yet still difficult to completely contain.

The breath of a second-tier extraordinary being.

Xilun's movements froze instantly.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze passing through the window to the tallest oak tree in the distant courtyard.

Under the moonlight, a figure stood among the intertwined branches of the tree canopy.

His aged figure and hunched back resembled a vulture perched on a branch.

"Who?"

Xilun's voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough to reach the other person's ears.

The man chuckled twice.

His laughter was hoarse and low, like sandpaper slowly rubbing against iron.

"Your Excellency is in high spirits, reading a book in the middle of the night instead of sleeping."

The sound reached Xilun's ears at a leisurely pace.

Xilun squinted.

Under the moonlight, he finally saw the person's face clearly.

It was a face that had weathered many storms.

His skin was rough like tree bark, covered with deep wrinkles.

The most striking feature is a deep scar on his cheek, which runs diagonally down from the corner of his left eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose between his eyes, and extends all the way to his right jaw.

The scar divided his face in two, as if a knife had cleaved his face in two and then roughly stitched it back together.

He opened his eyes.

Those eyes were not the cloudy and bewildered look one would expect from an elderly person.

Instead, it was a cold, sharp, sinister light, like a rusty blade.

Xilun said calmly:

"Grossa".

He paused.

"You're back quite early."

Grossa looked up, the moonlight illuminating the horrific scar that made his face appear particularly ferocious.

His voice echoed through the treetops, carrying a long-suppressed anger.

"You've really impressed me."

"I was only away for a short time, and you dared to kill three of my iron fists."

His tone suddenly became more forceful.

"You even dared to kill my brothers, my old brothers who have been with me for over a decade."

"You have some nerve."

The last five words were squeezed out one by one from between his teeth, like steel needles piercing a wooden board.

Xiren sat at his desk, his expression calm.

He didn't even stand up.

"Kill him if you will."

Four words, a simple and understated description.

There was no explanation, no rebuttal, and not a single superfluous word.

At this point, there is no misunderstanding between the two parties, and no explanation is needed.

You take over my territory, I'll kill your people.

It's that simple.

Grossa's eye twitched.

The scar twisted slightly with the movement of his facial muscles, making his expression even more sinister.

"In that case..."

His voice suddenly lowered.

"I'm curious that you can remain so calm."

"What exactly are your plans?"

"Let me spare your life?"

He gave a cold laugh.

There was no warmth in that laughter.

"If it were just a normal conflict, it would be fine. We're all just trying to make a living in the martial arts world, and fighting and killing are common occurrences."

"But you killed so many of my men..."

"Even if you have some connections, there is absolutely no way you will be forgiven."

His speech suddenly quickened, as if he were stating a decision he had already made long ago.

"At worst, I'll kill you and then join the Crimson Cult. Anyway, I don't have any longevity drugs, and with my old injuries flaring up, I won't live for many more years. Being a vampire isn't bad; at least I'll live for another twenty years."

As he said this, there was a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

A dying man's self-deprecating humor.

Then his gaze changed.

The self-deprecation disappeared, replaced by pure murderous intent.

A cold, solidified killing intent, devoid of any hesitation.

"Now I'd like to see."

"Without your high-ranking knight background, how would you possibly leave my side alive?"

Xilun finally stood up.

The chair made a soft thud on the floor.

He looked at Grossa in the tree, his face calm to the point of being indifferent.

"Do you want to know?"

"I'll show it to you."

After saying this, he tilted his head slightly and looked out the window at the courtyard.

"Want to go out and play? It might not be convenient here."

Grossa didn't buy it.

He didn't give Xilun a chance to choose a venue at all.

The next moment, his figure disappeared from the treetops.

There was no warning whatsoever.

There was no jumping motion, no sound of stepping on branches.

He simply vanished into thin air.

then.

boom!

The window frame in the study shook violently.

Grossa was already standing in the study.

His steps were so light that they didn't seem like those of a seventy or eighty-year-old man; he landed almost without making a sound, like a seasoned hunting cat.

As the distance suddenly closed, Xilun began to clearly feel the power emanating from him.

That was a power far exceeding the first-tier extreme realm.

Compared to myself, they seem to be a level stronger.

Even though Grossa was trying to restrain himself, the aura that was emanating from him—heavy, oppressive, and carrying a sweet, bloody smell—still made Xiren's pores involuntarily tighten.

This is a second-order extraordinary being.

The Ripper.

Grossa raised his hand.

The movements were casual, even somewhat careless, as if shooing away a fly.

But Xilen's throat tightened suddenly.

An invisible force suddenly appeared from several feet away and locked his throat.

It was not physical contact.

It is the remote control of energy.

This is a method that only a second-order extraordinary being can achieve.

By releasing one's internal energy and controlling it remotely, although this level of power is insufficient to cause any substantial damage in battles of the same level, it is more than enough to bully lower-level extraordinary individuals.

Grossa's five fingers clenched slightly in the air.

Xiren felt the pressure in her throat increasing.

The trachea is compressed, making breathing difficult.

Grossa stepped forward and looked down at him.

The man, in his seventies or eighties, was not much shorter than Xilun.

His arms were covered with veins and old scars, each scar a testament to a life-or-death struggle.

He grabbed Xilun and sneered:

"I do not understand."

"What right do you have to oppose me?"