Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The benefits of trade routes to Victoria were not limited to the first nobles who followed the pioneers.

In order to consolidate their rule, the upper echelons systematically developed their own "black gloves" (a metaphor for their power to control others).

These forces hidden in the shadows use more ruthless and dirty methods to evade the hatred of the lower-class people and reap wealth from behind the scenes.

This indirectly led to the rise of a new class of wealthy individuals.

The Tusol family was among them.

This is an extremely young family, not particularly well-established. Among a group of ancient families, their ability to stand out is entirely due to the golden generation of their ancestors.

Three ruthless individuals emerged in succession, using methods that involved mountains of corpses and seas of blood to carve out a bloody path from among the various forces in the North District, ultimately establishing their dominance over half of the North District.

Starting with slave farming and smuggling, the Tusol family has now transformed itself into a peaceful family that manages trade and accumulates resources.

But that deep-seated iron will and cruelty have never been absent for a moment.

At this time, the morning mist had not completely dissipated inside the Tusol Manor.

In the quiet and secluded corridor, the sound of steady footsteps could be heard slowly.

The Third Elder, Oin Tusor, walked slowly with his hands behind his back, stepping on a dark red wool carpet.

Behind him followed a young man.

He looked to be in his late twenties, dressed in an exquisite custom-made vest, with a deep and restrained aura, clearly already an extraordinary individual who had stepped into the second tier.

"What exactly was the meeting this morning about?"

Oin didn't turn around, but simply uttered a sentence, his voice sounding somewhat cold and hard in the empty corridor.

His son, the young man Oro standing beside him, bowed slightly, lowered his meticulously combed short silver hair, and said softly:

"It's about sponsoring a young knight."

Oin stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing deeply on his face, which was marked by the passage of time yet remained as hard as rock.

"There's no need to tell me this specifically."

Oro smiled, a smile tinged with an air of self-righteous arrogance:

"I think so too. He's just a newly promoted knight. Let alone first rank, even second rank wouldn't be of much decisive significance to our Tusol family."

He raised his head, his eyes gleaming with the shrewdness of a businessman:

"The Tussor family will only truly benefit from reaching at least the level of a third-order aberrant."

Therefore, most of the time, sponsorship is actually about building good relationships or recruiting talented people as servants to improve the genes of those with mediocre bloodlines.

Auro paused for a moment, then continued, "After all, not everyone in the Tusol family is a hero."

Some of the female members with mediocre talents might be able to give birth to exceptionally gifted children if they marry young, newly recruited knights.

However, this time it was the clan chief's order, so perhaps he had his reasons.

Upon hearing this, Oin's already furrowed brows furrowed even more, forming a deep frown.

"Auston is completely out of his mind!" O'In scoffed, making no attempt to hide his disapproval and resentment. "He has to hold a whole family meeting for such a trivial matter!"

He looked with a sinister gaze toward the heavy, carved wooden door at the end of the corridor, as if he were looking at a sworn enemy.

"Grandpa should have chosen me as the patriarch back then! But he listened to that old fox Austin's lies and passed the position to him, which has led to the Tussor family's lack of ambition and stagnation."

Oin's fingers clenched into a tight fist inside his sleeve, his knuckles turning white. "Now, half of the power in the Northern District is in the hands of my Tusor family. If we can use this as a foundation to unify this area with ruthless methods, integrate all resources, the next step will be to advance into the Southern District, develop more industries, and plunder resources!"

In Oin's eyes, maintaining a superficial peace through trade was nothing more than petty squabbles; only continuous expansion and annexation could ensure the family's long-term prosperity.

As they approached the conference room door, Oin stopped and patted Oro on the shoulder.

"Push the door open and go in. You are now a second-tier extraordinary being, and you are qualified to listen in."

"Stand behind me in a bit, watch carefully, and don't say anything."

"Yes, Father." Auro's expression flickered, his eyes unable to suppress the joy. Being able to enter the family's core meeting room meant that he had officially stepped into the upper echelons of power.

The heavy wooden door was pushed open.

Before long, more than a dozen people were seated in the spacious room.

These dozen or so people hold the power of life and death over countless people in the North District and control the flow of wealth.

The crowd whispered amongst themselves, creating a somewhat noisy atmosphere, until Austin Tusor, the current patriarch of the Tusor family, slowly walked in, leaning on his cane.

His signature goatee caught everyone's eye, and his narrow eyes held an unfathomable light.

The noisy room only fell silent once he sat down in the main seat.

Austin placed his hands on the table, looked around, and then spoke in a slow, gentle tone:

"The matter at the morning meeting is simple: the champion of this year's Junior Knights' Fighting Tournament, a newly minted knight named Siron, is interested in contacting the clan to discuss providing financial assistance. What are everyone's thoughts?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Oin leaned back in his chair and let out a sneer.

"I don't know if our chieftain didn't sleep well this morning and was feeling listless, or if he got his head stuck in the door when he went out."

Oin's words were like a rusty saw, harsh and merciless: "I really can't understand why such a trivial matter is worth all of us sitting here discussing."

He coldly surveyed the entire audience: "What is there to discuss about a mere first-rank knight, even if he has some talent and some opportunities?"

Unless they ultimately advance to the third-tier extraordinary level, they won't be of much value to us.

Faced with Oin's public challenge, Austin did not get angry. Instead, he chuckled and stroked his goatee.

"Calm down, Oin. Why are you always so short-tempered? You haven't changed at all after all these years."

Austin pulled a document from the folder beside him and handed it to his assistant. "I have some information about Xiren here. You can take a look."

The assistant distributed the booklets page by page, and everyone flipped through them.

The rustling sound of paper rubbing together filled the quiet conference room. O'In glanced at the few pages, his disdain growing even stronger.

"I don't see anything noteworthy," Oin said calmly, tossing the booklet onto the table. "A young man of humble origins, who joined a commoners' club, took a dangerous job, and earns a meager salary."

He commented casually, his tone filled with the arrogance of someone in a superior position:

"Perhaps they have a unique understanding of breathing techniques, cultivating a technique that requires relatively few resources, advancing to the next rank, and obtaining the title of knight. But so what?"

Oin shook his head, his gaze cold: "This is also one of the few ways for ordinary people to rise above their circumstances."

In stages where resource requirements are low, it is not uncommon to use breathing techniques to achieve a comeback.

But what happens after advancing to the second tier?

He looked around, his voice suddenly rising:

"The resource requirements for the second stage are several times that of the previous stage! Without substantial financial support, it is difficult to smoothly complete the subsequent extraordinary path of cultivation."

As people get older, to thirty or forty, their energy and blood weaken, making it even less likely they'll have the chance to break through to the second tier.

Finally, he patted the booklet and concluded definitively:

"A twenty-year-old second-tier extraordinary individual is indeed exceptionally talented, but I don't think it's necessary to hold a special meeting for him."

Just ask the housekeeper for his opinion. If he's willing, he can grant him some permissions and knowledge; if not, just tell him to get lost.

The other elders and deacons nodded in agreement, expressing similar sentiments.

Xilun's talent is indeed extraordinary, but the further one progresses on the extraordinary path, the more resources are required. There are always some ordinary geniuses like this, and countless others perish halfway through.

Despite the crowd's agreement and Auston's aggressive tactics, Austin maintained his smiling but ruthless demeanor.

"There's one point I don't know if you've noticed."

Austin tapped the table, his voice slightly lower. "Siren's mother is Avira. As for his father, there's absolutely no news of him."

Upon hearing the name "Avira," a brief silence fell over the conference room.

Austin seemed to be deep in thought, and slowly said:

"I wonder if you still remember that scandalous rumor from twenty years ago."

At the time, the delegation from the Upper City was treated with the highest honors, including the renowned and captivating dancer, Avira.

Austin thought for a moment, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes:

"Although a long time has passed, I remember it very clearly."

Less than two months later, Avira left the St. Nightingale Ballroom where she worked and even disappeared from the public eye for a time.

Rumors circulated that she had become the mistress of a powerful figure. Unexpectedly, later she was seen in dire poverty, and even beaten to death by a shrew from the lower district.

He raised his head, his gaze fixed intently on the crowd: "This Xilun not only has a handsome face that is remarkably similar to his mother's, but also possesses extraordinary talent that is far from ordinary."

Austin slammed his hands on the table, his tone turning serious:

"I think we can recruit him into the clan so that his bloodline can rightfully remain in our Tusor family."

He paused for a moment, then added, "Of course, there is another option."

He didn't continue, but the old foxes in the conference room all understood the unspoken meaning.

If Siren is indeed the illegitimate son of a powerful figure in the Upper City, the Tusol family could potentially use him to climb to the pinnacle of power in the Upper City by bringing him under their wing now.

At the same time, on the other side.

A black steam car slowly came to a stop in front of the huge, gold-leaf-inlaid wrought iron gate of the Tussol estate.

Xilun opened the car door and got out of the sedan.

He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a black trench coat over it, and his posture was ramrod straight.

When he looked up at the enormous and luxurious manor in front of him, which resembled a castle, he was momentarily stunned.

The towering towers, the continuous walls, and the faintly visible armed patrols all demonstrate the family's terrifying dominance in the North District.

Just as he approached, a butler in a tailcoat with sleek, combed hair came in from inside the door.

The butler wore a flawless yet cold smile: "Does the guest have an invitation?"

Siren nodded slightly, his voice calm: "Siren."

The butler pulled a roster from his pocket, quickly checked it, and his smile faded slightly as he said:

"Entering the Tusol family compound, you are not allowed to bring any weapons. Please remove them."

Xiren frowned slightly. He lowered his head and hesitated for a moment.

A moment later, he took out the long-handled black umbrella he had been carrying and the Soul-Suppressing Nail hidden in his sleeve, and placed them on the tray brought by the butler.

But he didn't touch the seemingly decorative rope around his waist, which was actually a golden spear that had been transformed by the sacred tree into golden threads and wrapped around his waist.

He subtly observed the butler, and with the extremely keen perception of a mid-level mystic, he confirmed that the man's gaze only swept over his belt before moving away.

The opponent should not be able to tell that this is a top-tier weapon that can change its form at will.

As the iron gate rattled with the heavy clanking of gears, Xilun stepped into the manor.

His gaze swept over the surroundings discreetly. The manor was not only incredibly large, but its interior decoration and layout were also exquisite.

The fountain refracted rainbows in the sunlight, and the neatly manicured lawns stretched as far as the eye could see. In the distance, there were even dedicated horse farms and shooting ranges.

People from the tribe dressed in gorgeous clothes would occasionally pass by.

When they glanced at visitors like Xilen, they merely nodded slightly, their expressions arrogant and condescending.

Clearly, they were used to this; every day, countless people would visit the Tussol family with prayers and longings, hoping to get a few scraps.

Xilun was led all the way to the central hall.

At this moment, the spacious central hall was empty, with only a few precious rosewood carved chairs placed there.

The butler pointed to a chair at the edge and said with a smile, "Please sit down and wait a moment. The elders will be here soon."

After saying this, the steward turned and left without even arranging for a servant to serve tea.

Xilun frowned slightly as he looked at the empty hall.

He didn't show any anger; he simply walked over calmly, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

There was a pot of warm tea on the table. He poured himself a cup and drank it slowly, as if the cold treatment from the outside world had nothing to do with him.

Meanwhile, in the conference room, Oin heard from his subordinates that Xiren had arrived.

Oin's rock-like face remained completely unmoved.

He glanced at Austin, who was talking quietly with several deacons, and coldly ordered his subordinate, "Let him wait a moment."

Then, he slowly picked up the expensive porcelain cup in front of him and leisurely drank the tea in it.

"I have something to attend to, so I'll be leaving now." Oin ignored Austin's gaze and got up to leave.

Seeing this, Oro, who was following behind, immediately hurried out after him.

Once they reached a deserted corridor, Oro couldn't help but ask, "Father, you seem to have absolutely no interest in funding Xilun?"

Oin suddenly stopped, turned around, gave his son a look as if he were an idiot, and sneered:

"Tell me, what did you hear in the meeting just now?"

The air in the corridor seemed to drop several degrees because of Oin's cold laugh.

Auro felt a little uneasy under his father's gaze and hesitated before saying:

"The clan chief said that bringing Xilun into the clan, whether it's to include him in the genealogy and provide financial support to improve the genes of mediocre members, or just to provide nominal financial support, will be beneficial to us."

If he really does have noble blood, then…”

"Enough." Oin shook his head, interrupting his son's innocent words, his voice low and stern. "Tell me first, who is this 'we'?"