Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The governor's mansion, which was originally so deserted that you could hear the wind blowing through the hall, finally looked somewhat presentable on this day.

Strings of kerosene lamps were hung in the front yard, their golden light cascading down the eaves and casting a warm glow on the stone steps, bronze doors, and white walls.

Two partition walls in the backyard were temporarily removed, replaced with flat wooden planks, a rain shelter was erected, and a dozen long tables were set up, with silver cutlery and stemmed wine glasses gleaming under the lights.

A row of servants stood at the entrance, neatly dressed, with their hands at their sides and the Brotherhood's black badge pinned to their chests.

Further out were two newly formed musketeer squads, their gun barrels gleaming, their boot heels pressed together, their bodies ramrod straight, like a row of cold iron stakes.

From the afternoon onwards, the street in front of the mansion has never been quiet.

The steam-powered car emitted wisps of white smoke, and its wheels made a soft clattering sound as they rolled over the stone slabs.

Some arrived in limousines adorned with black paint, while others walked with bodyguards. Some, with their flamboyant personalities, would have their men shout out their names before the car had even come to a complete stop, as if afraid others wouldn't know which street or parish they came from.

"Street racers arrive in Mangshan Parish—"

"Nanlin Lane, Black Ink Martial Arts Arena—"

"Rhines Street, dense white clouds arrive—"

"Iron Bell Market, Redstone Merchant Guild here—"

One sound after another echoed between the courtyard walls.

There were already quite a few people sitting on both sides of the courtyard.

Eng was wearing a tight-fitting gray coat, his thick arms resting on his knees, his posture somewhat awkwardly proper.

He came from a gang and was usually most impatient with these kinds of scenes, but at this moment he had a stern face, as if no one could embarrass the brotherhood.

Kusso sat on the other side, his back straight, a black hat resting on his lap. He would occasionally wipe the stubble from his mouth with his fingers, but his eyes never left the gate and the several hidden sentries on the roof.

"Have the people at the back door all been arranged?"

He asked in a low voice.

Eng grinned: "Don't worry, there are people watching behind the wall, in the garage, and behind the flowerbed. The musketeers are divided into three layers. Anyone who dares to cause trouble will get a volley of bullets first."

Kusso hummed in agreement, but didn't really relax.

Few of those who came tonight could be subdued with guns.

In the center of the courtyard, Xilun sat in the armchair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, one tap after another, at a steady, unhurried rhythm.

The wine glasses on the table were barely touched. He just lazily raised his eyes and watched wave after wave of people enter the room, occasionally nodding as if to fulfill his duty as the host.

He practiced the "Mysterious Yin Breathing Method" until late last night, and the newly generated cold energy in his body had just subsided. He appeared languid at the moment, but in reality, each breath was extremely fine and steady.

Deep within the chest cavity, strands of thick, rich blood and qi swelled slowly like the tide, unassuming yet powerful enough to tear through iron armor in an instant.

He yawned.

This banquet was really nothing special.

Wine and meat, small talk, probing, fake smiles—it's all the same few things over and over again.

But the timing was just perfect.

The Broken Bone Gang had just been wiped out, and the Brotherhood had taken over the territory, factories, transportation lines and several resource points in the shortest possible time. Outsiders might not say it, but who wouldn't have some doubts in their hearts?

How did a force that was originally just a rising star suddenly manage to wipe out the Shattered Bone Gang, which had been entrenched for many years, and even Grossa died without a trace?

The reason is something that anyone with a brain can guess pretty much.

Just because someone can guess it doesn't mean they're willing to admit it.

So tonight's banquet, to put it bluntly, is to let these people see with their own eyes that the Brotherhood has not only taken down the Bonebreaker Gang, but has done so very well.

If all goes well, after a few drinks, a few clinking glasses, and a few words, people will subconsciously consider this territory to be part of the Brotherhood's domain when they mention it in the future.

Anyone who wants to interfere should first consider whether they want to go against the Brotherhood or turn against the forces present who have tacitly accepted the situation.

But if someone is truly blind and insists on jumping out today...

Xilun's eyelids drooped slightly, and a very faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

Even better.

One jumps out, interrupting the other.

To prevent people from thinking that the Brotherhood acquired its territory by luck, and that Governor Siron was just a newly promoted Tier 2 who happened to have crushed a paper tiger.

His achievements of advancing to the second-tier Ripper and slaying Grossa are now a foregone conclusion.

Those who dare to jump out and test the waters today are either confident in their strength and ability to contend with him, or they have the instructions of a greater power behind them.

No matter which side's claws are extended, he will cut them off without mercy.

Another black limousine drove into the adjacent garage.

After the servants outside checked the invitations, their voices were slightly louder than before.

"St. Mary Parish – Armed Insurgents, here!"

The moment the words left his mouth, it was as if someone had suddenly pressed down on the courtyard.

The people at the several tables who had been chatting and laughing in hushed tones suddenly fell silent.

Even the middle-aged men holding wine glasses froze for a second.

Engel frowned, while Kuso turned his head to look at Xilun.

Xilun slowly stood up.

He did send out invitations, but it was mostly just a formality.

To be honest, he didn't think the armed insurgents would come.

That's a behemoth that ranks among the top in the entire North District Sixth District.

The dominant power of the St. Mary's Parish has kept more than a dozen extraordinary organizations of varying sizes suffocating, and has remained standing for decades.

Under his command, forces large and small could only submit to him and depend on his whims.

Many of those forces have first-tier or even several second-tier extraordinary individuals in command.

Whenever a powerful second-tier expert is killed, they will obediently give up their territory and beg the armed insurgents to share the spoils.

Those who know the rules can still make a living, while those who don't have been crushed under the wheels of history long ago.

Despite facing more than a dozen forces with second-tier extraordinary individuals, the armed insurgent party has stood firm for decades, calmly resolving numerous crises.

Anyone with a modicum of common sense knows just how terrifying the foundation of such a hegemonic power must be.

That kind of foundation is something that new forces like the Brotherhood, which have only expanded significantly in recent years, cannot match.

They have a complete training system, a strict promotion order, fixed training grounds, resource points, and quotas of extraordinary potions, and even more than one high-ranking person in charge.

Although Siren is now a Tier 2 and has a Brotherhood background, he knows very well that the truly capable people at headquarters are all busy with their own affairs and are short-handed.

If there were no shortage of talent, a place like the North District wouldn't be in the hands of a young man like him.

As he walked out, he casually asked, "Who's coming?"

The old butler followed closely behind, squinting at the three figures walking towards the car, and whispered:

"The one in the middle is called Reiner. He is a branch leader of the Armed Insurgent Party and is in charge of a small area."

The one on the left is Governor Lansk, whose duty is to provide close protection, which also implies supervision.

At this point, the old butler's gaze suddenly stopped and fell on the young man on the right.

"What?" Xilun asked.

The old steward hesitated for a moment: "This young man... looks unfamiliar. But being able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the steward, his status must be quite high."

If he is not a junior member of the chief's lineage, then he is a descendant of someone even higher up.

In the power structure of the armed insurgent party, the highest authority is called the leader, who is elected by the Supreme Council.

Legend has it that in the entire St. Mary's Diocese, the most powerful person is the diocesan councilor, the second is the bishop who maintains the church branch, and the third is the leader of this armed insurgent party.

Below the leader is the chief executive, and below the chief executive are the sub-chief executives.

Xilun looked in that direction.

The three of them had gotten a little closer.

The man in the middle, Reiner, was in his early forties. He wasn't very tall and wore a dark brown long suit with a neatly tailored collar. He also wore black leather gloves and had a plain face, looking like any ordinary civil servant.

But it is precisely because they are so ordinary that they are even more daring to be underestimated—these are the people who are the hardest to see through.

Lansk on the left is completely different.

He was a very young man, no more than thirty years old, with neatly combed black hair, a stern face, a straight nose, and eyes as sharp as knives. Standing there without saying a word, he naturally exuded a weight that made it hard to breathe.

His aura was not flamboyant, but rather quite restrained, yet Xilun could still clearly sense it when his gaze swept over him.

This is a second-order problem, and not an ordinary second-order problem.

As for the young man on the right, he was dressed the most casually, in a dark blue short jacket with the collar slightly open, and a delicate silver badge hanging at his waist. He had a gentle smile, but his eyes revealed an undisguised arrogance.

His steps were not fast, but they had a strange steadiness, as if each step was on a fixed rhythm, which made people feel heavy-hearted after watching him for a long time.

Xilun's spirits stirred slightly.

This person is no simple character either.

The other person seemed to notice Xilun's gaze, looked up, and smiled politely.

Xilun walked out of the main gate, stood on the steps, and slightly clasped his hands in greeting.

"You have come from afar to give face to Xilun."

Reiner smiled, raised his hand in return, and spoke calmly:

"Governor Siron, you're too kind. The Brotherhood has been making quite a splash in the North lately, so since we received the invitation, it's only natural that we should come and take a look. We also want to offer our congratulations to the Governor."

"please."

Xilun stepped aside.

As the young man passed by, his gaze lingered on Xilun's face for a moment, and his smile deepened.

"I had heard that the Governor was young, but seeing him today, he is even younger than I had heard."

"Most rumors are inaccurate," Xilun replied calmly.

The young man laughed and said nothing more.

Lansk merely glanced at Xiren, his gaze lingering slightly as if he sensed something. His brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent.

After the three were seated, they were placed in a position slightly to the left and center, a position that neither overshadowed the host nor lacked prestige. This arrangement alone was enough to make many people in the courtyard feel uneasy.

The fact that a representative from an armed insurgent party could be present shows that the Brotherhood has a greater reputation than many people expected.

Xilun understood that the more this was the case, the less likely it was that tonight would really be just about drinking.

A moment later, the other guests also took their seats.

There were more than ten factions, with thirty or forty people in total, filling the room to capacity.

Looking around, the sounds of clothes rubbing, glasses clinking, and whispers mingled together, and the atmosphere in the courtyard gradually became heavy.

Even the worst among these people have the foundation of the Baptist level.

As for those few old guys sitting in the front seats who didn't talk much, their eyes darted around, seemingly amiable, but in reality, each of them seemed to be hiding something.

Xilun returned to the head seat, raised his wine glass, and his eyes were calm.

The banquet is finally about to begin.

As night fell completely, the lights in the front yard shone brightly, their warm yellow glow making the wine appear reddish, and even the condensation on the glass was clearly visible.

The old butler stepped forward and stood in the center of the crowd, his aged yet steady voice slowly spreading out.

"All of you have come from afar to celebrate the renovation of my Brotherhood's branch governor's residence, and also to congratulate my governor on his promotion to the second-tier extraordinary level."

The Brotherhood is new to this place and its foundations are still weak. From now on, we will govern this region together, supporting each other… Gentlemen, please raise your glasses.”

"please."

"please."

Someone responded first, followed by the soft clatter of glasses being picked up.

Xilun doesn't usually drink, but at this moment he raised his hand, lifted his glass, and drank the wine in it in one gulp.

The liquor slid down his throat, carrying a slightly spicy heat, but it didn't change his expression at all.

After he put down his wine glass, the atmosphere in the courtyard indeed relaxed a bit.

Some smaller forces that were already planning to make overtures immediately seized the opportunity to speak up.

"Governor Xilun is exceptionally talented, having reached the second tier at such a young age. His future is limitless."

"Indeed, the Bone Shattering Gang has been running rampant for years, and Grossa is particularly ruthless. Now that the Governor has stepped in to suppress them, the order in the North District will finally be restored."

"Ultimately, it's the fraternity that does things according to the rules, unlike some people who only know how to rob, set fires, and extort money all day long."

These words were all spoken very tactfully.

They both praised Xilun and conveniently kicked the already dead Shattered Bones Gang. No one would feel uncomfortable hearing that.

But Xilun just smiled faintly, nodded occasionally, and didn't take much.

He knew very well that these people's praise was worthless.

Those who praise you today will often be the same people who will be quick to criticize you if you show signs of weakness tomorrow.

Meanwhile, others were secretly observing the Brotherhood's forces.

Engel, Kusso, Hughes, and several other key members were present, but no matter how you looked at it, the Brotherhood's only truly capable member seemed to be Siren himself. Their foundation was too weak, and their framework hadn't fully developed—a fact that couldn't be hidden from the seasoned veterans present.

Xilun lowered his head and took a sip of wine, but he didn't care.

A rich heritage is built up over time and through the dead.

He's not in a hurry.

However, the peace in the courtyard did not last long.

The young man from the armed insurgent party suddenly stood up, his movements composed, a smile on his face, and first raised his glass to Xilun.

"This toast is on behalf of the Armed Insurgents Party, to congratulate Governor Sirion."

After he finished speaking, he tilted his head back and drank it all, then casually placed the empty glass aside. He then glanced around, a slight smile playing on his lips, his handsome face revealing undisguised arrogance and fighting spirit. His voice echoed in the quiet courtyard.

"However... we've already drunk the wine, and if we just sit here and exchange pleasantries tonight, it would be too boring. It's a rare occasion for all of you experts to gather together; wouldn't it be a waste not to make this event more lively?"