Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Her brows furrowed more and more deeply.

This is no longer ordinary smuggling.

This is a ritual, a cultivation, a long-term arrangement.

Xilun walked to the table, flipped through two pages of the account book, and then opened the waxed letters one by one.

The letter was written in hasty but clear handwriting: the first batch of floral soil, seedlings, and sacrificial soil; four days later, the site of the Black Dove Church.

In addition, there was a line of small text filled in with different ink.

"If there is any change in Scamame, immediately turn to the mother ditch and pray at night to seal the fields."

Xilun glanced at it, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Where is the mother groove?"

Ferru immediately said, "At the deepest part of the southern flower field, at the end of the old irrigation canal. There used to be an abandoned pumping well there, but Moen forbade anyone to go near it."

"If he escapes through the tunnel, that's the first place he'll get to."

Kuso gritted his teeth: "Then what are we waiting for? Let's surround them now!"

"We must surround it."

Xilun folded the letter and put it in the inside pocket of his trench coat, his tone calm to the point of being indifferent.

"But it's not a case of everyone rushing in."

He looked out the window at the undulating white flowers. The night wind was blowing across the field ridges, and the waves of flowers were like countless pale mouths opening and closing softly.

"There's something in the flower field, and the choir might not just be Moen's. If we rush in recklessly, they might not be the first to die."

Kuso suppressed his anger and said in a muffled voice, "Governor, what are your orders?"

"You take your men and block off the south side of the town, the old canal, the drainage ditch, and the small road to the east. There should be a guard every thirty paces, with two layers of muskets. Anyone who rushes out should be shot in the legs first, then captured. Without my orders, no one is allowed to fire randomly into the fields."

"yes!"

"Rena, keep the account books, land deeds, and sealed letters separately, and give them to two literate men to index them according to the names of the four towns."

Then have someone seize all the keys to Hermann, the mill accountant, and the town hall; arrest anyone who dares to possess documents on the spot.

"clear."

"Feru".

Xilun looked at him one last time.

Ferru's chest heaved slightly, and he instinctively straightened up.

"Lead the way."

Kusso immediately frowned: "Governor, this man—"

"If he wanted to live, he wouldn't lie at a time like this."

Xilun interrupted calmly.

"Besides, he knows the choir route better than you do."

After a moment of silence, Feru said in a low voice, "I'll take it."

"But I have one more thing to say."

Xilun looked at him, his gaze neither warm nor cold.

"From the moment you drew your sword and then put it down, you owe this town a life debt. If you can repay even a fraction of it tonight, then I'll decide how you die or how you live."

The color drained from Feiru's face little by little.

But in the end, he just nodded.

"it is good."

Half an hour later.

Zhennan.

The night had not yet faded, and the wind carried the earthy smell and the sweet scent of flowers, mixed together, making one's nasal passages feel stuffy.

Xilun and his group walked along the ridges of the fields, their steps very light.

Kuso brought eight of his most reliable veterans, all of whom covered their mouths and noses with damp cloths, carried muskets on their backs, and had knives at their waists.

Rena walked to Xilun's left, carrying a small lamp with a shield in her hand, the light only illuminating half a foot of her feet.

Ferru walked in front.

He led the group through two low fences, an abandoned ditch, and around a clearing piled with decaying grass, finally stopping in front of an old canal almost submerged in white flowers.

"Further in, there's the Mother Ditch."

He kept his voice very low.

"It doesn't seem like much during the day, but at night, when the bell rings, everyone is afraid to go in."

Xilun didn't respond.

The remote listening has already begun.

The sounds of wind, leaves rustling, people breathing, and shoes pressing against damp soil... unfolded layer by layer.

Going deeper—

There is something else.

It is very light, very fine, and very dense.

Like countless people with their mouths pressed behind their backs, whispering something.

Xilun's eyes narrowed slightly.

Sure enough, it was inside.

"Stop everything."

He raised his hand.

Everyone froze immediately.

The next moment, the waves of flowers in front of them suddenly parted slightly.

It wasn't blown by the wind.

It was as if someone slowly walked out from inside.

It was a man in a gray robe.

He was tall and slender, with a black shawl draped over his shoulders, damp with dew, and carrying an old-fashioned lantern in his hand.

His face under the light was thin and pale, and he even had a pair of thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. If he weren't in this kind of place, he would look more like a young teacher in charge of preaching at a church school.

His expression was calm.

They were as calm as if they had known all along that Xilun would come.

Behind him, several standing figures appeared one after another among the white flowers.

Seven people in gray robes and two children in white.

The child was only twelve or thirteen years old, barefoot, with a wet patch on his trouser leg, and a deathly pale face. Sure enough, there was a thin silver thread wrapped around his neck, like a decoration that was cut into his flesh, or like some kind of restraint.

Their eyes were vacant, but their lips were moving slightly.

He didn't make a sound.

But that faint murmur came from their throats.

Kusso's back tensed instantly, and his hand was already on the gun handle.

The gray-robed youth nodded slightly, his manners almost eerily polite.

"Governor-General of West London, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"I was wondering how much time Moen's life could buy me—now it seems it won't even be a quarter of an hour."

Xilun looked at him.

"You're the one who sang the song for someone else."

"It's just a name."

The young man in the gray robe smiled, but the smile was not deep.

"My name is Ino, and I'm temporarily looking after this land for the Whispering Choir."

"Take care of?"

Kusso couldn't help but sneer.

"Feeding flowers with living people, does that even qualify as taking care of them?"

Upon hearing this, Ino looked at his face, but instead of being angry, she simply sighed softly.

"Sir, farming is a life-or-death endeavor. Some die in mines, some in factories, some on winter street corners, their bodies left unclaimed..."

But at least I made their deaths grow something.

"Is this your logic?" Rena said coldly.

"It's not about logic, it's about accounts."

Ino adjusted his glasses, and the lantern light illuminated half of his face, making him appear exceptionally pale.

"Floral mud, saplings, balm, painkillers, tranquilizers... they can be sold for money, exchanged for coal, exchanged for medicine, and used to feed the parish children who are about to freeze to death."

You only see the few people buried in the ground, but you don't see how many mouths are waiting for food in winter.

At this point, he looked at Xilun, his eyes finally revealing a genuine sharpness.

"Governor, you also climbed up from the bottom, so you should understand that this world does not operate on mercy."

Moen is a mad dog, Herman is a fat rat, and Feru is a weak knight—they all deserve to die…but Hanada isn’t.”

"Give me the account books. You can take the people with you, and we'll manage the land together."

"If the Brotherhood needs to stabilize the four towns, I'll do it for you. If the choir needs supplies, I'll take mine."

Within three months, Scamay will not be in chaos again. You will receive 40% of the profits from the flower mud.

A night breeze swept by, and the sea of ​​flowers rippled gently.

Kusso and Reina's faces both darkened.

This is no longer begging for mercy.

This is about dividing up territory, buying lives, and keeping the whole town buried in the mud, just under a more respectable name.

Xilun looked at Ino, his face expressionless.

Do you think I'd agree?

Ino seemed to have expected this, and his voice remained calm.

"I think you should weigh the pros and cons."

"You are strong, and Moen and those idiots have already proven that to you."

But can you, all by yourself, protect a mill, protect a street, protect this one night—can you protect four towns for an entire winter?

"If you kill everyone here, the flower field will be ruined, the supply will be cut off, but the buyers won't disappear; they'll just find another way."

"At that time, there may be even more deaths than now."

He spoke slowly, almost patiently.

He's not a hysterical madman.

On the contrary—

He was like a very organized and confident accountant, weighing the pros and cons with Xilun over each life lost.

Xilun suddenly smiled.

It's very light.

It was so bland it sent chills down my spine.

"you're right."

Ino's eyes flickered slightly.

"This world certainly doesn't operate on compassion."

"So I'm standing here not to talk to you about compassion."

He took a step forward.

The white flowers at my feet trembled slightly.

"I'm here to tell you who lives, who dies, who gets the land, and who does the accounting in Scamander—it's all up to me."

The smile on Ino's face finally faded little by little.

The flame inside the lantern flickered gently, casting a long shadow over him.

"That means we can't reach an agreement."

"There was no room for negotiation from the very beginning."

Xilun spoke calmly.

"You can find food for your children, and I can kill you all for my territory."

"The path you choose is your own."

Ino was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled softly.

"Governor, I've always been curious whether someone like you is truly soft-hearted, or simply hasn't been taught a lesson by this muddy land yet."

"It seems you're tougher than I thought."

"pity--"

He hadn't finished speaking.

The two children in white behind them suddenly raised their heads at the same time.

Their lips parted silently.

The first genuine song, as light as mist, slowly drifted out.

Almost at the same moment—

The entire flower field seemed to have been awakened by something, and they all opened their mouths at once.

The first sound was like the wind passing through an empty bottle.

The second tone sounds like a knife scraping through wet bones.

As soon as the third sound came out, the whole flower field came to life.

Countless white flowers suddenly unfurled in the night breeze, their petals curling outwards layer by layer, revealing not the normal stamens, but rings of fine, pinkish-white fleshy veins in the center.

They trembled slightly with the singing, like throats that had been pried open.

The sweet fragrance in the air instantly became ten times stronger.

"wrong!"

Rena's expression changed, and she immediately pulled up her sleeve to cover her mouth and nose.

"There's powder!"

Almost as soon as she spoke, a layer of extremely fine white mist rose above the sea of ​​flowers, like frost or ash, spreading outwards along the ground.

The two musketeers who were closest to each other took just one more breath, and their eyes glazed over for a moment, their legs went weak, and they almost fell headfirst into the flower ditch.

One of them murmured, "Mom..."

The voice was weak and unsteady, like someone sleepwalking.

Kusso slapped him on the back of the head and growled, "Wake up!"

But when he shouted that out, even he himself frowned.

The singing was captivating.

It wasn't noisy, it wasn't loud—

Instead, it is fine and soft, like someone repeatedly rubbing your eardrum with cool fingertips, slowly drilling into your brain.

Ferru's face turned pale instantly, and his hand holding the knife trembled.

"This is it...this is it from that night!"

"Step back to the edge of the embankment, keep quiet, and don't listen to anything."

Xilun took a step forward, and the Great Thunder Breathing Technique within his body suddenly began to operate. A muffled thunderous sound rolled through his chest and abdomen, like an ancient bell striking deep within his flesh and blood.

The delicate, piercing melody had barely touched his mind when it was forcefully shattered by this heavy, resonant force.

next moment--

The Xuan Yin breathing technique circulates simultaneously.

He slammed his palm down on the ground.

The cold air surged like a tide, spreading rapidly along the damp soil beneath our feet. With a crisp, crackling sound, a patch of flower roots, mud, and white powder in front of us was covered with a layer of grayish-white frost.

The pink mist that was creeping along the ground was suddenly slowed down by the frost.

Standing in the sea of ​​flowers, Ino watched this scene, and for the first time, a genuine sense of solemnity appeared in her eyes.

"No wonder Moen couldn't stop you."

"There aren't many people in the second tier who can take two paths to this level."

The voice just fell.

Several dark figures suddenly darted out from the depths of the flower field!

It's not a flower.

are people.

More than a dozen gunmen, draped in coarse cloth cloaks, rolled up from the flower ditch that had been dug earlier, and with a flash of sparks from their guns, they all pulled the triggers toward the ridge of the field!

boom! boom! boom!

Gunfire illuminated the white flowers, and the smoke and sweet fragrance mingled together, making one's throat feel dry and sore.

Kusso reacted extremely quickly, raising his hand to push the two people next to him to the edge of the ditch, then turning over and raising his gun to return fire.

Several veterans immediately scattered, using the field ridges and dilapidated irrigation ditches as cover, and began to fight back.

Suddenly, gunshots, songs, and bells mingled together, and the entire field seemed to erupt into chaos.

"Three steps to the left, there are two more in the ditch!"

Xilun didn't even turn his head, and spoke in a cold voice.

The two musketeers almost instinctively raised their guns in the direction he instructed.

Two loud bangs.

The two men who had just looked up in the ditch fell to the ground with a thud, their brains mixed with mud splattering out.

Ino's eyes turned cold.

Keep singing!

The two children in white seemed completely oblivious to the gunshots, standing still with their lips moving faster and faster.

The singing rose a notch, and the flowers on the ground began to tremble wildly, with a little bit of milky white sap even seeping from the edges of the petals.

Ferru's expression suddenly changed.

"Watch out for the roots!"

Before the words were finished, dozens of white to bluish roots broke through the frost from the frozen flower mud in front of them, rushing towards them like a swarm of snakes, moving extremely fast, and wrapping around their ankles!

One musketeer couldn't dodge in time; his right leg was instantly entangled, and he was dragged and thrown to the ground, half his body sliding into the flower ditch. A large patch of white flowers immediately burst forth from the ditch, rushing towards his face like madmen.

"Help!"

Kusuo roared and charged forward, cleaving two vine tendrils in two with a single stroke, veins bulging on his forehead.

But as soon as he cut off a section, more roots emerged from the mud, intertwining layer upon layer, as if trying to drag the musketeer directly into the ground.

The next instant, a brilliant golden light suddenly tore through the night.

Xilun raised his hand and clenched it, the golden thread at his waist instantly unfurled, and a nine-foot-long golden spear took shape in his palm!

Gun barrel sweeps horizontally—

boom! ! !

The flower ditch, roots, and even half of the field ridge in front of him were smashed open by this shot.

The mud surged and rolled, the white flowers shattered into countless fragments, and the wildly growing roots were as if crushed by a giant hammer, snapping cleanly into several pieces, twisting and twitching on the ground.

Everyone in the room was startled.

Even Kuso, who had already witnessed Xilun's prowess, couldn't help but twitch his eyelids when he saw the gun again.

Ino's gaze fell on the gleaming golden spear. After a moment of silence, he suddenly sighed softly.

"I see."

"No wonder Tusol was willing to open the door for you."

When he said this, there was even a hint of admiration on his face.

But the next moment, that meaning was replaced by something even colder.

"Unfortunately, you're too late."

He raised his hand and flicked his fingertips.

Suddenly, the small bells on the surrounding iron stakes all rang in unison!

Ding--