Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

But at the last moment before turning around, she paused again.

"I almost forgot."

She said this, her tone suddenly becoming more casual.

"I haven't finalized the specifics of the next instruction yet."

The pale moon was reflected in her dark eyes.

"Probably... two or three years from now."

"You should be prepared."

After she finished speaking, her figure began to change.

The outline of the cheongsam is blurred, as is the face.

His whole body resembled a blob of black ink, rapidly shrinking and coalescing under the moonlight.

Finally, it transformed into a crow.

Its jet-black wings unfolded silently, and it leaped from the oak branch, disappearing into the night sky.

Xilun stood quietly in place.

He looked up at the crow as it flew higher and higher until it became a black dot and finally disappeared at the edge of the moon's outline.

The hillside returned to silence.

The wind blew gently, and the leaves rustled softly.

In the distance, an owl cries out, its long, mournful call echoing with loneliness.

Xilun lowered his head and looked at his palm.

There was nothing there.

But he could sense that something was different.

Deep within his soul, a door had been cracked open.

The light coming through the crack in the door was so faint that he wasn't even sure if it was his imagination.

But it does exist.

Mysticism!

That was a realm completely different from the vital energy and physique of extraordinary individuals.

If the cultivation of extraordinary individuals is like sharpening the knife that is the physical body.

So, mysticism is about refining the mirror of the spirit.

The two are not mutually exclusive, yet they are completely different.

Xilun withdrew his gaze, carefully tucked the bone whistle into his pocket, then turned and walked back the way he had come.

The moonlight shone on his white clothes, casting a long, long shadow of him.

His mind kept replaying the woman's words before she left.

Eight hundred kinds of unusual talents.

A god with extraordinary abilities.

The next mission will be in two or three years.

The price of blowing the bone whistle.

It will always belong to her.

Borrow her power.

Every message is meaningful.

But Siron did not rush to make any decisions.

He just walked quietly.

His steps were neither fast nor slow. His breathing was neither light nor heavy.

Night fell over the North District, enveloping the young man's slender yet upright figure.

He still has a long way to go.

Second-order is just the beginning.

Tier 3 potions, advanced breathing techniques, patronage from the Tusol family, improved combat skills, blood pill crafting, and the awakening of mystical talent...

Everything is a mountain.

But Xilun is never afraid to cross mountains.

What he fears is having no mountains left to climb.

It was nearly midnight when we returned to the mansion.

The butler was still waiting for him.

The old man breathed a slight sigh of relief upon seeing Xilun return safely.

"Your Excellency."

"Prepare hot water."

Xilun interrupted him.

"Then, go and rest."

The butler responded and left.

Xilun went into the bedroom alone.

He closed the door, drew the curtains, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

In the quiet room, only his own breathing could be heard.

He closed his eyes.

Consciousness sinks into the depths of the mind.

The power of the Tranquil Snow Lotus was still slowly being absorbed, like a silent stream, constantly nourishing the increasingly solid ice layer in his spiritual world.

The feeling of the spell left by the woman was slowly fermenting in his mind.

It wasn't a specific move or formula, but something more primitive and instinctive.

It's like a baby's first thought when learning to roll over, or a fledgling bird's first impulse to spread its wings.

It was there, waiting for him to touch it, to understand it, and to master it.

Xiren took a deep breath; he wasn't in a hurry to try.

The medicinal effects of the Tranquil Snow Lotus have not yet been fully absorbed. Before one's mental strength is completely stabilized, hastily activating the spell may backfire.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

I started planning what to do next in my mind.

tomorrow.

No, it's past midnight today, or rather, it's today.

There are many things to do today.

First, the handover of the Broken Bone Gang's territory must be completed as soon as possible.

Although Kusso and his team were quite efficient, he still needed to personally review many details.

Especially at resource collection points and on-site factories, no mistakes can be tolerated.

Secondly, the telegram to headquarters should have already been sent.

A group of managers will be in place soon. Before they arrive, he needs to clarify the existing structure of the Broken Bone Gang, keeping those who should be kept and laying off those who should be laid off.

Then, it's time to make contact with the Tusol family.

He rolled over and lay on his side.

Moonlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin silver line beside the pillow.

Xilun stared at the silver line for a while, lost in thought.

Then, he closed his eyes.

Fall asleep.

This time, there were no nightmares, and no killings.

There was only a tranquil, boundless, deep blue ocean.

He was sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the sea.

The ice overhead reflected tiny sparkles in the moonlight.

……

The first light of dawn pierced through the heavy velvet curtains, casting dappled shadows on the dark red wool carpet.

Xilun slowly opened his eyes.

The brass clock on the wall ticked softly, its hands pointing to six o'clock.

He blinked, a rare look of surprise flashing across his usually cold face.

Why did you sleep for so long?

Since entering the world of extraordinary individuals, his sleep time has been extremely compressed, and he only needs to sleep lightly for three or four hours a day to maintain peak energy.

Last night, however, he slept soundly like an ordinary person, without being awakened by any instinctive alertness.

He sat up from the bed, memories flooding back like a tide.

He seemed to be having a long and profound dream.

There was no bloody carnage in the dream, no hail of bullets from the Shattered Bone Gang, only a vast, boundless, deep blue void.

He sat cross-legged on a solitary rock floating in a sea of ​​stars, a gentle breeze blowing, and above him was a huge, suffocatingly pale full moon.

The moonlight, like water, seeped into his bones through his pores and breath, cleansing his soul.

Xilun frowned slightly, and every detail of that dream was clearly reflected in his mind. Even every rough texture on the surface of that solitary rock was vividly remembered.

He thought about it again and suddenly noticed something unusual inside his body.

It's not a surge of blood and qi, nor a bulging of muscles, but a kind of indescribable sense of clarity that originates from deep within the brow.

His spirit seemed to break through a thick layer of quagmire, ushering in a kind of essential transformation.

Xilun turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the tightly closed carved wooden window.

hum.

A faint flapping sound exploded in his ears. The sound, which was originally barely perceptible, was now as clear as the frantic grinding of rusty gears.

He stared intently, his gaze seemingly piercing through the dust suspended in the air and through the cracks in the window.

On the outside of the glass, a mosquito trying to find a gap to squeeze into was magnified infinitely in his eyes.

That's not just about magnification.

He could clearly see the dense mesh on the mosquito's compound eyes, every tiny vein on its transparent wings, and even the dust on its mouthparts.

Under his focused gaze, the mosquito appeared to be the size of a cartwheel, and the frequency of its wingbeats seemed extremely slow to him.

Xilun shook his head sharply, forcibly severing his mental concentration.

The field of vision returned to normal instantly, the mosquito turned back into a tiny black dot outside the window, and the rumbling sound like gears grinding turned back into a faint buzzing sound.

He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, pondering silently.

This almost supernatural insight could not possibly be achieved by the physical strength of a second-tier extraordinary being.

The Ripper's strength lies in the qualitative changes to the skin, flesh, bones, and blood, but it cannot cause such microscopic distortions in the senses.

Could it be the effect of the Tranquil Snow Lotus?

Xilun lowered his eyes. The three-hundred-year-old twin snow lotus that Lady Black Crow sent to his mouth from afar actually made his mental strength cross a chasm.

After fully absorbing it, he seemed to possess a mental strength comparable to that of a mid-level mystic.

He didn't know much about the divisions within the field of mysticism, but an intermediate scholar corresponds to a second-tier extraordinary individual in the Qi and Blood system.

If that's really the case, then I've truly risen to the top in one night.

Not only did his physical body reach the second tier, but his mystical spiritual realm, which is the most difficult to cultivate and requires extremely high talent, also directly reached the second tier.

He closed his eyes again, the scene from his dream last night flashing through his mind.

Upon further reflection, he astutely grasped the core of the dream that had been overlooked.

As he absorbed the moonlight on that solitary rock, it seemed unintentionally that his body and consciousness were operating according to an extremely ancient and mysterious rhythm.

That's a form of meditation.

It was a seed that Lady Black Crow planted in his subconscious through that cloud of black mist before she left.

Catalyzed by the immense medicinal power of the Tranquil Snow Lotus, it operates silently in the dream, taking root and sprouting on its own.

As Xilun recalled, hundreds of characters emitting a pale silver light surged from the depths of his mind.

They are like a school of swimming silver fish, leaping and arranging themselves in the crevices of the brain.

The first few characters convey a desolate and mysterious meaning:

The Moon Memory Meditation Method.

Xilun slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, the scorching breath turning into a cloud of white mist in the cool morning air.

This is what Black Crow transmitted to his subconscious last night.

He didn't even need to painstakingly translate or comprehend them; these hundreds of characters were as if engraved in his genes, and he naturally understood the operating path of this meditation method.

"Practice it tonight."

Xilun shook his head, temporarily suppressing the jumping characters in his mind.

He remembered that Lady Black Crow had said that she had helped him complete his "enlightenment".

Now that he possesses both extraordinary blood and qi and mystical spirituality, perhaps he should explore how to utilize this absolute advantage in spiritual power to assist in physical combat through extraordinary means.

The ability to lock onto targets, anticipate danger, and even have absolute control over the subtle movements of his muscles can elevate his combat prowess to a new level.

Xilun stood up, walked to the wardrobe, changed into a well-tailored pure black shirt, and put on a vest.

The morning air carried the earthy smell of last night's heavy rain.

In the courtyard, several servants were cleaning up the wreckage left from the battle a few days earlier.

The old butler was standing beside an oak tree that had been snapped in half by a blast wave, whispering instructions to Rhodes.

Rod's arm was still wrapped in bandages, but he looked extremely excited.

Hearing footsteps behind him, the butler turned around and saw Xilun approaching. He immediately stopped talking, quickly stepped forward, and bowed deeply.

"Your Excellency."

Xilun nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the pile of broken bricks and timber in the yard, and asked calmly, "What are you instructing me to do?"

The butler replied respectfully, "It concerns the repairs to the study and the front yard. The study was severely damaged during Grossa's raid, and cracks have appeared in the main load-bearing wall. I have already brought over the best team of craftsmen from the South District."

"How long will it take to fix?"

"It will probably take more than ten days, sir." The steward carefully observed Xilun's expression.

Xilun pondered for a moment, his slender fingers gently stroking the handle of the black umbrella.

"Perfect," he instructed. "Ten days from now, once the repairs are complete, hold a banquet at the mansion."

Ostensibly, it was to celebrate the renovation of the study, and incidentally, to send out invitations to all the major powers in the North District, informing them that the Brotherhood would henceforth take full control of all the former Bonebreaker Gang's strongholds, factories, and resource points.

A flicker of shock crossed the butler's eyes; he knew all too well what this meant.

This is no longer a covert takeover, but a public planting of the Brotherhood's banner on the throat of the North, announcing the birth of a new king to all forces.

Xilun looked at the butler, his tone cold and unyielding: "This banquet is also a celebration of my formal advancement to a second-tier extraordinary being."

He intends to spread the news of his advancement to the second tier completely.

The North District is a desolate wasteland where people are devoured without a trace. The Shattered Bone Gang has fallen, and countless eyes are now drooling over its vast legacy.

If Xilun were only at the first-tier extreme realm, no matter how heaven-defying his combat power was, those established forces would pounce on him like hyenas and tear him apart.

But the second tier, the Ripper.

This is a bombshell that should calm down all ambitious people.

By displaying his strength openly, he can prevent some reckless individuals from having ulterior motives and wasting his cultivation time.

The butler bowed deeply, concealing his inner fervor, and respectfully replied:

"I understand, sir. I will personally check the invitation list and make sure no influential family is overlooked."

Xilun nodded slightly and asked, "Is there any mail?"

"There was a letter signed Lund that arrived last night. Since you were resting, I had it placed on your desk in the study, which was in good condition."

Upon hearing the teacher's name, a hint of tenderness flashed in Xilun's cold eyes.

He originally planned to find a few strongmen to spar with this morning in order to temper his physique, which was just entering the second stage.

But now, he clenched his fist slightly, feeling the terrifying power within his body that seemed capable of tearing through steel.

He knew in his heart that even a dozen or so ordinary baptized warriors would not be able to withstand a single blow from him.

He had made up his mind and planned to build himself a private heavy training room in this mansion, just like the one he used to have at the club.

Or they could simply transform the mountain into a training ground, using the mountains and rivers as their practice space.

The mansion is situated with its back to a mountain, which is an advantage.

Xiren looked at the butler and continued to give instructions: "Go and contact the Tusol family. Tell them that I am interested in discussing matters related to deeper funding, as well as the future joint development between the Brotherhood and the Tusol family."

The butler's heart skipped a beat.

The Tusol family is a true noble family in the North. Although their military strength has declined in recent years, the wealth and extraordinary resources they control are still astronomical.

"Yes, sir."

After the butler left, Rod looked at Xilun with awe and quickly led the craftsmen to get busy.

Xilun turned and walked toward the dilapidated study, where half of the walls had collapsed, leaving only the inner half barely intact.

Sure enough, a thick leather letter was pressed down on the sturdy mahogany table.

The envelope bore Lund's strong, vigorous handwriting.