Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun's gaze fell on the thin book.

The text on the cover was blurred, but he could still vaguely make out a few letters from the old cult period.

"This book—"

The old woman raised her eyelids, her cloudy gaze sweeping over Xilun's face.

"Not for sale," she said bluntly. "It's already been reserved."

Xilun didn't ask any further questions, and turned his gaze to the bottle of amber liquid.

"What about this one?"

"Tranquilizing Dew," the old woman's voice was hoarse and flat. "Eliminates mental fatigue and repairs minor mental rifts. Three gold pounds per bottle."

Three gold pounds?

In a proper pharmacy, a tranquilizer of the same quality would cost at least five gold pounds, and it is often out of stock.

Without hesitation, Xilen said, "I'll take it."

He took three gold pounds out of his leather bag and placed them on the stall.

The old woman put away the gold coins and pushed the small bottle over.

Xilun took the bottle and put it into his inner bag.

I turned around and continued browsing.

In the next half hour, he bought several more items—two thumb-sized fragments of Cold Marrow Essence, a small box of reasonably high-quality Mind-Cleansing Incense, and three well-sealed bottles of low-level healing potions.

It cost a total of twelve gold pounds.

These items would cost at least twenty gold pounds on the regular market, and most of them are in a state of being priced but not available.

The Moon Lake Trade Fair truly lived up to its reputation.

Siren hid the purchased items in several hidden pockets inside his trench coat, then continued along the passage deeper into the manor.

The central area of ​​the estate is a wide lawn, which was probably originally used for banquets or croquet.

Now, it has been transformed into a small auction house.

A makeshift wooden platform stood in the center of the lawn, and on it stood a thin man in a tuxedo, eloquently introducing an item for auction.

"Next item—the Dark Tide Amulet from the Eastern Coast Abyss Ruins! A Tier 2 defensive artifact that automatically activates in critical moments, forming a shield against both physical and mental attacks! Starting bid—twenty gold pounds!"

A few dozen people sat sparsely in the audience; some raised their hands to bid, while others whispered among themselves.

Xilun did not participate in the auction; he simply stood on the periphery and observed for a while.

The amulet was eventually sold for thirty-five gold pounds to a woman wearing a black veil.

Xiren turned and left the auction house, walking around the perimeter of the manor.

He walked past a row of stalls selling materials related to demons—dried beast hides, exotic organs soaked in potions, and bone fragments ground into powder, all emitting various pungent odors.

I walked past a small shed with a sign that read "Rune Writing Service"—inside sat a young man wearing a monocle, with various colors of ink and special parchment spread on the table.

Passing by a makeshift tea stall—several extraordinary individuals sat together drinking tea and chatting in hushed tones, but Xilun's echoing voice still managed to catch a few words.

"...I heard that the Golden Knight in the North District single-handedly took down three Tier 2 warriors..."

"...Really? All by himself? How strong must he be..."

"...Don't talk nonsense, those are from the Tusol family, we can't afford to mess with them..."

Xilun ignored the comments and continued walking.

The north wing of the manor is a row of half-collapsed stone buildings, which appear to have originally been servants' residences.

Now, these stone buildings have been converted into small private trading rooms.

Various signs were hanging at the entrance.

"We are buying xenogeneic blood samples of level 3 or higher. Price negotiable."

"Selling incomplete manuals of the second-level breathing technique, face-to-face meeting only."

"Looking for hematite ore, no quantity required, long-term cooperation preferred."

Xiren stopped in front of a room that was marked "Selling Support Potions".

He pushed open the door and went inside.

The room was small and dimly lit.

A middle-aged man sat behind a table with more than a dozen bottles of medicine of different sizes in front of him.

"Do you have Yin Spirit Source Water?" Xilun asked bluntly.

The middle-aged man looked up and sized him up for a few seconds.

"Yes." He took out a wooden box from under the table and opened the lid.

Six bottles of ice-blue liquid were neatly stacked inside.

Yinlingyuan Water.

The quality wasn't as good as what the Tusol family supplied, but it was still considered above average.

"How much?"

"Eight gold pounds a bottle."

Xilun frowned.

The normal market price was five gold pounds, but after the outbreak of war, prices soared, and eight gold pounds, while expensive, was not too outrageous.

What makes this material so valuable is its scarcity.

Apart from the Tusol family, almost no other faction can reliably generate resources.

"I want all six bottles."

"Then let me round it up to forty-five."

Siron counted out forty-five gold pounds from his leather bag and pushed them across the table.

After the middle-aged man finished counting, he pushed the wooden crate over.

Xilun put the six bottles of Yin Spirit Source Water into the large pocket inside his trench coat, then turned and left the room.

When I came out, the sunlight had completely dispelled the morning mist.

The lake surface shimmered, reflecting the colorful tents and flags on the shore, resembling a vibrant oil painting.

Xilun stood under the old willow tree by the lake and took a sip of the cool water from his water bottle.

The echo chamber remained half-open.

He could hear the breathing, footsteps, and conversations of hundreds of people in the market, as well as the unique aura of extraordinary beings hidden beneath the noise.

The first-tier items are the most numerous and are found everywhere, like the miscellaneous goods that can be found in a market.

There were also quite a few second-tier players, scattered in various corners; some were buying things, some were selling things, and some were just strolling around.

Third-order...

Xilun's hearing picked up on two extremely deep and restrained breathing rhythms.

One is near the auction house in the east wing of the manor, and the other is in a room deep inside the north wing.

Two third-order units.

They remain here as bystanders, neither engaging in transactions nor showing their faces.

Perhaps they are guards at the trade fair, or perhaps they are spies sent by some powerful force.

In any case, the water here is deeper than he imagined.

Xilun refocused and prepared to walk back along the lakeside.

Just then—

His ears twitched slightly.

The echo chamber captures breath, hears sounds from afar, and perceives a conversation that has been deliberately suppressed.

The sound came from the second floor of a stone building in the far corner of the north wing of the manor.

He was about forty meters away.

"...The fraternity is investigating more and more closely..."

"...We must find a solution, otherwise our goods simply won't be able to get in..."

"...The last three shipments were seized. The boss said we can't let this continue..."

Xilun stopped in his tracks.

Brotherhood.

He turned his head expressionlessly, his gaze falling on the second-floor window of the stone building.

The curtains were drawn, so you couldn't see the people inside.

But he heard it clearly.

"...What did Glenn say?"

"They say they can't handle it. The Black Sails were cornered by the Brotherhood three times at the East Dock, and two brothers died last month. Glenn is hiding now and doesn't dare to come out."

"waste."

A lower, colder voice rang out.

The voice carried an undeniable air of authority.

Second-order extraordinary—at least.

"The fraternity is nothing more than a makeshift group of peasants. They're cracking down on smuggling so hard just to make money off it."

"Things are different now, boss. The Brotherhood has a new leader lately, and I hear he's causing quite a stir in the North. That guy—"

The sound suddenly stopped.

Someone seemed to make a gesture, indicating that they shouldn't discuss things too much in this kind of place.

But Xilun had heard enough.

Brotherhood, smuggling, and the new boss.

That's him.

Xilun's gaze turned calm and cold.

Instead of acting immediately, he quietly left from under the willow tree and walked slowly along the lakeside to the other side of the manor.

After walking about fifty meters, he stopped, found a sturdy old oak tree, and sat down with his back against the trunk.

He needs to think about it.

There were at least four or five people on the second floor of that stone building.

One of them was a second-tier extraordinary being, with a cold and steady voice; he was probably the leader.

Judging from the breathing rhythm, most of the rest are at the first level.

They were discussing how to deal with the fraternity's censorship.

The "boss" they mentioned could be the leader of one of the three major smuggling gangs: Black Sail, Iron Anchor, or Deep Water.

even--

It could also be a higher-level entity that transcends these three groups.

Xilun closed his eyes, allowing the reverberation chamber to expand its perception range to its limit.

The sound from the second floor of that stone building reached his ears clearly once again—

"...That's why I called you all here. The Moon Lake Trade Fair is a good place; no one will notice us meeting here."

"...Boss, what do you mean?"

"The Brotherhood is cracking down on smuggling, so a direct confrontation wouldn't be worthwhile for us. But I've checked, and their North District branch isn't very well-staffed; they only have a handful of truly capable fighters. If we could take out their leader—"

"The rest of the people are just a disorganized mess."

"That's right."

Xilun opened his eyes.

The corners of his mouth curved slightly, but it wasn't a smile.

It's more like the instinctive reaction of a predator when it sees its prey come to it.

He stood up and brushed the grass clippings off his trench coat.

Then he walked slowly toward the north wing of the manor.

A gravel road separates the stone buildings on the north wing of the manor from the main building.

At the end of the road was a half-open wooden door leading to the kitchen and servants' passage at the back.

The organizers of the trade fair hired a group of temporary workers at the estate—mostly commoners from nearby villages and towns—to move goods, clean the premises, and serve tea and meals to guests who had paid for private trading rooms.

Xilun walked to the wooden door and paused for a moment.

He took a silver coin out of his trench coat pocket, pushed open the door, and went inside.

The kitchen was filled with the smell of cooking smoke.

Three or four men wearing aprons were busy at work; some were cutting meat, others were stirring the thick soup in the pot, and several large pots on the stove were bubbling and steaming.

A fat chef was yelling at a skinny assistant: "Where's the beef soup in room number three on the second floor! I've asked three times! Hurry up!"

The skinny helper, sweating profusely, picked up a tray and hurriedly walked out, almost bumping into Xilun as he walked in.

"Make way, make way—" The helper squeezed past Xilun and stumbled away at the end of the corridor.

Xilun looked around.

Behind the kitchen was a coat rack with several gray-white coarse cloth work clothes and aprons hanging on it.

He walked over and casually picked up one of the items.

Hearing the noise, the fat chef poked his head out from behind the stove.

"Who are you?"

"A new helper from outside," Siren said without changing his expression, while tying his apron. "The foreman asked me to help serve the dishes."

His tone was calm and natural, as if he were really just a temporary worker doing odd jobs.

The fat chef looked him up and down – his gray trench coat had been taken off and folded neatly, draped over his arm, revealing the coarse cloth shirt underneath.

He was tall, but not particularly muscular; he looked like an ordinary young man.

"Alright." The portly chef, too lazy to ask further questions, turned and picked up a wooden tray from the stove. On it were two bowls of thick soup, a plate of toast, and a dish of cured meat. "Room five on the second floor of the north wing, take it there."

Room number five.

When Xilun took the tray, his expression remained unchanged.

He had just confirmed with the echo chamber that the voices discussing "dealing with the Brotherhood" were coming from the room in the far corner of the second floor of the North Wing.

Room number five is in the middle of the corridor, but that room in the corner—

It's number seven.

Not urgent.

Xilun carried the tray out of the kitchen and walked along the servants' passage to the back door of the stone building.

The staircase was narrow, and the wooden steps creaked underfoot.

He steadily carried the tray upstairs, his steps light yet heavy, each step landing precisely on a step where it wouldn't make a sound—an instinctive reaction brought about by the reverberation chamber; his perception of vibration and sound was incredibly precise.

The second-floor corridor was dark and narrow, with rows of closed doors on both sides.

Each door had a crooked metal number plate nailed to it.

Number three... number four... number five.

Xilun stopped in front of room number five and knocked on the door.

"The food is here."

The door opened a crack, and a bearded man poked his head out, glanced at him, and took the tray from him.

"Hmm," the bearded man muttered, closing the door behind him.

Siren didn't stop, but turned and continued walking down the corridor.

Number Six...

He stopped in front of room number seven.

The door was tightly shut.

But a faint light shone through the crack in the door.

The reverberation chamber is fully open.

The sounds inside flooded into his ears like a tidal wave—

"...So, just who is this new leader of the Brotherhood?"

This was the same cold, steady voice from before.

"...His name is supposedly Xilun," another person replied. "He's an outsider to the Tusol family, and he came from the South District about six months ago. He used to be an apprentice at a fight club, but somehow he got in touch with the Tusol family and is now the de facto manager of the North District Brotherhood branch."

"An apprentice?" The cold voice carried obvious disdain.

"Don't underestimate him, boss." The third person's voice was slightly tense.

"Last month, he single-handedly took down three second-tier members of the Hawke family in Klein Lane. Three! Even Herbert himself couldn't survive. Now everyone in the North District calls him the 'Golden Knight.'"

silence.

A moment later—

"So what?" The cold voice rang out again, this time deeper and more dangerous. "I am also a second-tier cultivator. Moreover, I am not some empty shell like those from a noble family like Herbert's."

"Boss, what I mean is, we need to be careful—"

"Be cautious?" A cold laugh rang out.

"I've worked my way up in the ocean-going docks for fifteen years. From a manual laborer carrying goods, I've climbed step by step to where I am today. What kind of people haven't I seen? What kind of battles haven't I fought?"

Why should I be cautious about a kid who was getting beaten up in a boxing gym just six months ago?

"but--"

"No buts." The voice was firm and resolute.

"The Brotherhood's investigation into smuggling is targeting my very lifeline. My business at the docks brings in at least eighty pounds a month."

Because of the fraternity, we lost thirty last month. If we keep losing money this month, my men won't even have food to eat.

"The boss is right."

Another voice echoed.

"In the smuggling business, it all boils down to one word—ruthlessness. Whoever is more ruthless survives. The Brotherhood is cracking down hard? Then break their backbone."

"Hmm." The cold voice returned to calm.

"I've already contacted the people at Anchor and Deepwater. Victor and Monica have both agreed that the three of them should join forces and turn the Brotherhood's North District branch upside down."

"Once that Xilun falls, the smuggling business in the North District will be controlled by the three of us."