Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

He looked at Xilun.

"Give it a try."

Xilun took a deep breath, extended his right hand, palm up.

He closed his eyes and began to try to guide the energy within his body to gather in his palms.

The breath of the Great Thunder Sound Breathing Technique is like a surging torrent, full of explosive power and aggression.

Xilun tried to guide the torrent into his palm, but as soon as he tried to contract it, the energy surged like an enraged wild horse, charging around and refusing to obey his commands.

He frowned and tried a different approach.

First, use the Profound Yin Breathing Technique to calm the breath, turning the violent torrent into a calm, deep pool.

Then gently guide the water in the deep pool to flow towards your palm.

This time it was better.

The breath began to move slowly toward the palm, but at an extremely slow speed, and during the movement, breath kept breaking away from the "group" and dissipating into the surrounding meridians.

The amount of energy that finally gathers in the palm of your hand is probably less than 20% of the total.

Xilun opened his eyes, looked at his unchanging palm, and fell silent.

"No rush." ​​Lund's voice came from the side, with a hint of indifference. "When I was practicing the Concentration Point technique, it took me half a month to succeed for the first time. Your breathing is much more complex than mine was back then—two completely different breathing methods superimposed on each other, so it's naturally more difficult to contract them at the same time."

He walked over to Xiren and placed his hand on his right shoulder.

"Remember this trick—don't try to 'command' your breath to move, but rather 'guide' it."

"guide?"

"Yes." Lund released his grip. "Breath is alive; it has its own laws of operation. You can't force it to go against these laws; you can only follow them and guide it in the direction you want."

He paused, then added, "It's like herding sheep. You can't lead the sheep by the tether, but you can leave a clump of hay in front of them."

Xilun nodded thoughtfully.

"That's all for today." Lund turned and walked to the bench. "The practice at the gathering point can't be rushed. Spending half an hour each day feeling the flow of energy is enough. The rest of the time, continue practicing Natan Heavy Gun Technique with 30% of your strength."

He sat down on the bench, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes slightly.

"The day your Natan heavy gunnery breaks through to master level, and your gathering point is initially successful—"

Lund's lips curled up slightly.

"I will teach you the second step of the Crimson Star Spear."

Xilun gripped the wooden gun in his hand and took a deep breath.

He resumed his starting stance, reduced his strength to 30%, and began a new round of practice.

prick!

The spear tip thrust out slowly and firmly, and he focused all his attention on the flow of "intention".

This time, the line of intent that started from the center of the forehead successfully extended to the wrist—although it still broke when it entered the gun, it was a step forward compared to the morning.

pick!

The gun barrel traced an arc from below. Xilun sensed the direction of the energy flow within his body, trying to make it move "naturally" along the trajectory of the gun barrel, rather than forcibly controlling it.

sweep!

He swept the spear horizontally, the force gentle, but the lines of his intention were clearer than before. He vaguely felt that the "disconnection" between the spear and his arm would disappear the moment the "intention" was connected—even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

smash!

As the gun fell from above, Xilun deliberately slowed down, giving himself enough time to feel the connection between each step.

Once, twice, three times.

Only the soft sound of wooden guns slicing through the air and Xilun's even, deep breathing filled the training shed.

Lund leaned against the wall, his eyes half-closed, a slight smile on his lips.

His disciples are growing at an astonishing pace.

The obsession behind that growth, whether it was hatred for Finn's death or a yearning for the "power of complete freedom," transformed into the purest driving force, propelling this young man step by step towards a higher realm.

Lund closed his eyes and silently calculated in his mind.

Balk... a senior Tier 2 at the ocean pier.

That baronial family...

His disciples still have a long way to go.

But at least, he was no longer alone.

As the sun sets, the light in the training shed gradually dims.

Xilun holstered his gun and let out a long breath.

He looked down at his right palm—there was nothing there, but he could feel something slowly gathering deep beneath his skin.

Like a star yet to be ignited.

Dark red.

Silent.

Waiting for the day when I am awakened.

……

The morning light slanted in through the wooden windows on the east side of the training shed, cutting the ground into stripes of light and shadow.

Xilun stood shirtless in the center of the shed, his wooden spear now a fourth one—the first three had broken during yesterday's practice.

His muscles, under the light, looked like cast iron, each one full and firm, and his skin had a faint, cold sheen, the traces left by the long-term infusion of the Xuan Yin breathing technique into his flesh and bones.

prick.

The spear tip thrust out, but the speed was not fast, and the power was suppressed to less than 30%.

But this time, Xiren clearly felt that "line"—starting from the center of his forehead, descending along his spine, passing through his shoulder blades, arms, and wrists, and finally reaching the gun barrel.

The thread of intent trembled the moment it entered the gun barrel, like a spider silk being blown by the wind.

It wasn't broken.

Xiren held his breath, maintaining this delicate state.

The tip of the gun paused in mid-air for a moment, then he slowly retracted it.

"..."

He looked down at the wooden spear, remained silent for a moment, and then resumed his starting stance.

Come again!

Thrust, pick, sweep, smash.

The four movements are repeated, each movement so slow it's like walking on water.

But Xilun frowned slightly, his entire focus on that faint "line".

On the seventh repetition, the line of intention successfully pierced through the entire spear shaft during the "smash" motion—from the tail to the tip, all in one go.

In that instant, the sound of the wooden spear falling changed.

It was no longer just a simple sound of something cutting through the air, but had an added layer of extremely subtle humming, as if the gun itself was vibrating or breathing.

Xilun's eyes widened suddenly.

It is this feeling.

The long-standing "disconnect" between the gun and the body vanished completely in that instant.

Although it lasted for less than a breath, he did indeed touch that threshold.

[Skill: Natan Heavy Gunnery (Master)]

[Progress: 0/2000]

The threshold for becoming a master.

"good."

Lund's voice came from the training shed doorway. He was leaning against the door frame, holding a cup of hot tea in his right hand. His left arm was still wrapped in bandages, but he looked much better than a few days ago.

"The sixteenth day." Lund took a sip of tea. "Four days faster than I expected."

Xilun holstered his gun and turned to look at his teacher.

"It's not consistent enough," he said. "It only succeeded once out of seven attempts."

"Nonsense." Lund walked in and sat down on the bench. "The threshold of mastery isn't something you can cross on your first try. What you need is repetition—turn that feeling into ten times, ten times into a hundred times, and a hundred times into every single time."

He put down his teacup and looked at Xilun.

"But you already know the direction. The rest is just a matter of time."

Xilun nodded without saying anything more. He resumed his starting stance and continued practicing.

Lund didn't give any more instructions, but just sat quietly on the bench drinking tea, occasionally glancing up at Xilun's movements.

The training shed was so quiet that only the sound of wooden guns cutting through the air and birdsong from the distant manor garden could be heard.

……

At noon, Saiwei brought lunch.

On the stone table were roasted lamb chops, black bread, and a pot of thick soup.

Xilun wiped his sweat and sat down. He had a great appetite and quickly finished off the food on his plate.

Lund ate slowly, and his left hand was still a little stiff when using the fork, but it was much more agile than a few days ago.

"I need to write a few letters this afternoon." Celen put down his cutlery. "We can't keep ignoring the situation in the North District."

Lund nodded. "Take care of it if necessary. You're the governor, not a hermit."

Xilun stood up and walked towards the main building of the manor.

An ink bottle and writing paper were on the desk in the guest room. Xiren sat down, picked up a pen, and began to write.

The first letter was to Rhodes—inquiring about the current situation in the North District, the operation of the Brotherhood's branch, and the recent movements of various factions.

The second letter was to Rena, instructing her to continue monitoring the patients in Scamay and South Warehouse, and to keep an eye on any unusual activity at the Black Swan Pavilion.

The third letter was to Kusso, requesting that he increase patrols around the mansion, especially at night.

After writing the three letters, Xilun sealed them and handed them to Saiwei to arrange for someone to send them out.

Then he returned to the training shed and continued practicing shooting.

The afternoon sun was even stronger than in the morning, and the training shed was as stuffy and hot as a steamer.

Xilun's sweat streamed down his back, forming a small puddle on the ground, but his movements did not falter in the slightest, repeating the four moves over and over again.

Thrust, pick, sweep, smash.

Thrust, pick, sweep, smash.

By the thirty-seventh time, the thread of intention successfully pierced through the gun again, this time lasting a little longer than in the morning—about two breaths.

Xilen remembered the feeling and continued.

Forty-second attempt, successful.

On the fifty-first try, it was a success.

The fifty-eighth attempt failed.

Sixty-third attempt, successful.

He silently kept track of the number of successes and the intervals between them, searching for patterns.

As evening fell, Sarah returned from outside and stopped to watch for a while as she passed the training shed.

"Still practicing?" She leaned against the door frame, her tone tinged with emotion.

Xilun did not stop what he was doing, but simply nodded slightly.

Sarah shook her head, turned and left.

As she walked down the second-floor corridor, she ran into Lund, who was coming out of his bedroom.

"He's been practicing all day?" Sarah asked.

"Um."

"Aren't you tired?"

Lund glanced at her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "This guy... how should I put it?"

He thought for a moment and found a suitable word.

"stubborn."

Sarah raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter.

……

At night, Xilun returned to his room and lit a purifying incense.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, practicing the Moon Memory Meditation Technique. The silvery-white moonlight slowly rose in his spiritual world, illuminating the inner realm that belonged to him.

The black mark on his right wrist remained quietly dormant, neither spreading nor shrinking.

Xilun had grown accustomed to its presence—like a thorn stuck in his flesh, temporarily impossible to remove, but not fatal either.

He turned his attention to his palm.

Meeting point!

Xilun tried to guide the energy in his body to gather in his right palm. This time, he did not use the "command" method, but followed Lund's teachings—placing a handful of grass in front of him.

He created a tiny "vortex" in his palm, using his mental power to create a weak point of attraction.

The breath sensed this attraction and began to slowly flow towards the palm.

The Great Thunder Sound Breathing Technique's aura was violent and unruly, but under the tempering of the Profound Yin Breathing Technique, it became somewhat docile. The two auras were like two rivers of different temperatures, slowly converging at the vortex in the palm of the hand.

There were a few more than yesterday.

Xilun estimated that it could gather about 30% of the total amount.

That's not enough. Lund said that the minimum requirement for a focal point is to compress more than 70% of one's energy into a single point.

But 30% is already an improvement from 20% the day before yesterday.

Xilun was not greedy. After maintaining it for a moment, he slowly dissipated his aura, allowing it to return to its normal operating trajectory.

He opened his eyes and looked at the moonlight outside the window.

It's been sixteen days.

He had been at Lund Manor for sixteen days. Natan's heavy gunnery was about to break through to the master level, and the gathering point was also progressing steadily. But the situation in the North District wouldn't wait for him.

The war is escalating, supplies are becoming scarce, and various forces are stirring.

He can't stay any longer.

Xilun closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep under Lingxiang's soothing touch.

That night, I did not dream of the Black Sea, nor did I dream of the eight-armed god.

Only the silent darkness and the faint sound of distant waves could be heard.

……

Day 17.

In the training shed early in the morning, Xilun completed his hundredth repetition of the four-form cycle.

The success rate of the Thread of Will has stabilized at over 60%. Each time it succeeds, the gun emits a subtle hum—like the breathing of a sleeping beast.

Lund stood aside, watching Xilun's final move, "Smash," fall.

The moment the wooden gun struck the ground, a very faint ripple of air spread out from the tip of the gun, blowing a shallow, circular dent into the dust on the ground.

"Okay," Lund said.

It was just one word, but the tone carried a clear affirmation.

Xiren sheathed his gun and let out a long breath. He felt it—that threshold was no longer something unattainable. It was right beneath his feet; he only needed to take one more step.

"We're getting real guns today." Lund took a long ironwood spear from the rack and tossed it to Siron.

Xilun caught it, feeling the weight and texture of the gun with his fingers.

It was almost twice as heavy as a wooden gun, but it was actually more comfortable to hold—the density of the ironwood made the transmission of energy much smoother.

"Practice a hundred more times with a real gun," Lund said. "If the thread of thought can maintain the same success rate with a real gun—"

He looked into Xilen's eyes.

"You've already reached the master level."

Xilun gripped his ironwood spear tightly and assumed a starting stance.

prick.

The moment the spear tip pierced through, he felt a completely different feedback from the ironwood spear shaft compared to the wooden spear—heavier, more stable, but also more difficult to control.

The thread of intent encountered greater resistance as it entered the gun, like suddenly entering a narrow canyon from a flat riverbed.

First attempt, failed.

The second attempt failed.

The third time—

Xilun adjusted his breathing, releasing the cold breath of the Xuan Yin Breathing Technique slightly, allowing it to envelop the surface of the gun, forming an extremely thin "guiding layer".

Guided by the chilling aura, the thread of thought successfully passed through the resistance of the ironwood spear.

hum-

The spear tip emitted a deep, resonant sound, more robust and solid than when it was a wooden spear.

A glint flashed in Xilun's eyes.

found it.