Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The three companies joined forces.

Black Sails, Anchors, and Deepwater—three smuggling gangs—join forces to take down his Brotherhood.

Xilun stood outside room number seven, expressionless.

His heartbeat was as steady as a fine clock.

There was no anger, no surprise.

Only cold, clear, and razor-sharp judgment.

This person—Glen, the leader of Black Sails?

No.

Glenn is thirty-five years old.

But judging from the tone and experience of the voice, the owner of this voice is at least over forty years old.

He also said that he had "worked his way up in the ocean-going docks for fifteen years".

This is not Glenn.

This is another person who stands above Glenn.

Someone Xilun didn't know before.

interesting.

Xilun turned around and walked back to the stairwell, descending the stairs at a leisurely pace.

Back in the kitchen.

The portly chef was setting out food on another tray—two plates of stewed mutton, a pot of hot wine, and four cups.

"Room 7, second floor, north wing." The fat chef said without looking up, "Go deliver it."

Xilun took the tray.

This time, he didn't rush upstairs.

Instead, they stood in the servants' passage for a while.

He took the iron spear out of the cloth bag and stood it upright in the shadows in the corner of the passage.

The short gun was untied from his waist and tucked behind his apron, hidden by the wide hem of his garment.

The Soul-Suppressing Needle was embedded in the boot shaft, pressing against the calf; its icy touch made one exceptionally alert.

Then, he picked up the tray.

His steps were steady, his breathing even, like a seasoned veteran who had been serving dishes for ten years.

The wooden stairs made almost no sound under his feet.

Second floor corridor.

He passed through rooms number three, four, five, and six.

He stopped again in front of room number seven.

The wine jug on the tray was still steaming slightly, emitting a spicy aroma.

Xilun took a deep breath.

Then he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

dong dong dong.

Three sounds, neither too loud nor too soft.

The sounds inside suddenly stopped.

A moment of silence.

"Put it by the door," a voice said.

Xilun did not move.

"Your wine should be drunk while it's hot." His voice was hoarse and flat, just like a waiter who was used to being ordered around.

"The taste won't be right when it's cold. If you return it, my wages will be deducted."

Another silence followed.

Then, the door lock clicked.

The door was opened a crack.

A young man with short hair leaned out halfway and scanned Xilun with his eyes.

Wearing a gray-white work uniform, with oil and soup stains on his apron, he held a tray and kept his head down.

An ordinary helper.

The young man stepped aside and pulled the door open even wider.

"Come in."

Xilun, carrying a tray, stepped over the threshold with his head down.

The room wasn't big.

A long table was placed in the center, with a map and several stacks of papers on it.

Four people sat around the table.

Two people were sitting on the left—one was the short-haired young man who had just opened the door, and the other was a burly man with a thick beard and snake tattoos on his arm.

Two other people were sitting to the right—a gaunt old man with an unlit pipe dangling from his mouth; next to him was a middle-aged man in a leather vest, with a scar running from his left eyebrow to his right cheek, resembling an ugly centipede.

And directly opposite the door was the person in the main seat.

A man with broad shoulders, a short neck, and a shaved head.

He was around forty-five years old, with a face full of fat, but his eyes were unusually small, deeply embedded in their sockets, like two black beans squeezed by fat.

The aura of a second-tier extraordinary being slowly emanated from his body.

It was heavy and oppressive, carrying the air of someone who had been through countless battles.

He was the owner of that cold voice.

Xilun lowered his head and placed the tray on the table.

"Your dishes—two plates of stewed mutton and a pot of hot wine."

He bent over and removed the plates and wine jugs from the tray one by one, his movements practiced and natural.

Nobody noticed him.

In this setting, a waiter serving dishes is no different from a chair or an oil lamp.

The bald man's gaze didn't linger on him for even half a second before turning back to the map on the table.

"Continue," he said to his men. "When will Victor's men arrive?"

"The night after tomorrow," the scarred man replied. "He said he'd bring ten men, all elites from the first tier. Monica has confirmed it; her people will be responsible for providing support from the outside."

"Okay." The bald man nodded, reached for the wine jug, and poured himself a glass.

The scalding hot liquor was poured into the glass, creating a wisp of white steam.

He picked up the cup and took a sip.

At that very moment—

Xilun put down the last cup in his hand.

Then, he raised his head.

The movement was very light and slow.

But the moment his gaze met the bald man's—

The air in the room suddenly froze.

The bald man's wine glass hovered near his lips, then stopped.

He saw a pair of eyes.

Those eyes were as calm as an abyss, as cold as a frozen pool, devoid of any superfluous emotion.

But beneath that calm, there was something chilling.

That was murderous intent.

Pure, condensed, and compressed killing intent to the extreme.

Like a bowstring stretched to its limit—just waiting for the moment to be released.

The bald man's pupils suddenly contracted.

"you--"

He only had time to utter that one word.

Xilun's right fist had already been thrown out.

The Great Thunder Breathing Technique was activated at full power in that instant, with all the muscles, bones, and fascia in the body contracting violently at the same moment, and all the power converging on the fist along a clear transmission path.

It's not about fancy moves or sophisticated techniques.

Just one punch.

But this punch carried the terrifying power of a second-tier Ripper's full-force output, as well as the unique internal vibration force of the Great Thunder Breathing Technique.

The wind howled from the punch.

The scarred man sitting to the right of the bald man was right in the path of the fist.

He didn't even have a chance to react.

Xiren's fist landed precisely on his temple.

boom!

A dull cracking sound.

The scarred man's head suddenly veered at an impossible angle, and his cervical vertebrae snapped instantly.

His body was sent flying by the force of the punch, crashing into the wall behind him, chair and all—

boom!

A spiderweb-like pattern of cracks appeared on the stone wall.

The scarred man's body slid off the wall and collapsed to the ground, his head tilted to one side, his eyes rolled back, and he was no longer breathing.

One blow kills.

From the moment Xilun looked up to the scarred man's death—the entire process took less than a second.

The remaining four people were all stunned.

That stunned silence wasn't from fear, but from a lack of understanding.

Their brains couldn't process the information at hand—why would a waiter serving dishes suddenly kill someone?

A moment of silence.

But for Xilun, one second was enough.

He stomped his right foot on the ground and pounced on the nearest burly man like a beast unleashed from its cage!

The burly man with the bushy beard finally reacted and instinctively raised his hand to block—

But Celen was too fast.

His left hand, like a vise, gripped the burly man's wrist tightly and twisted it outwards—

Crack!

The wrist bone was fractured.

The burly man with the bushy beard let out a scream, but before he could scream a second time, Xilun's right elbow had already slammed into his Adam's apple.

The sound of the throat bones shattering and the screams disappeared simultaneously from the throat.

The burly man with a thick beard clutched his neck with both hands, collapsed to the ground, and his legs convulsed.

two seconds.

Two people collapsed.

The short-haired young man finally came to his senses.

He roared, drew a short knife from his waist, and stabbed at Xilun in the back—

The speed of a first-order extraordinary being is not slow.

But Xilun's echo chamber had already captured the sound waves of metal friction when the blade was drawn the moment he drew it.

Without turning his head, Xilun reached out with his left hand and precisely grabbed the blade of the short knife.

The chilling aura of the Profound Yin Breathing Technique erupted from his palm!

Sky-blue frost burst forth from between his fingers, instantly covering the entire blade and then spreading along the hilt to the young man's hand.

"ah--!"

The short-haired young man let out a sharp scream.

His right hand froze into an ice block in a fraction of a second, his fingertips and wrist turning grayish-white, rendering him unable to move.

Xilen turned around and slammed his knee into the young man's abdomen.

The young man bent over and vomited a mouthful of bile, and Xilun's hand was already on the back of his head—

boom!

He pressed his face directly onto the table.

The tabletop shattered, and the young man's consciousness snapped along with it; he lost consciousness.

three seconds.

Three people fell down.

The gaunt old man was more experienced than the others.

He didn't try to fight; instead, the instant the first cracking sound rang out, he rolled over and lunged toward the window—to escape.

But he had just touched the window frame—

A hand reached out from behind and grabbed the back of his neck.

That hand was as cold as an iron clamp, and its strength was so great that it inspired despair.

"Don't rush." ​​Xilun's voice rang in his ear, as calm as if he were saying that the weather was nice today.

He pulled the old man back from the window and tossed him back onto the chair like a chicken.

The old man slumped into the chair, his pipe fell to the ground, and he trembled like a leaf.

Four seconds.

From a waiter serving dishes to a deadly killer—in four seconds.

Only two conscious people remained in the room.

The gaunt old man was so frightened that he lost all will to resist.

as well as--

The bald man in the main seat.

The bald man finally snapped out of his shock.

He slowly put down his wine glass.

The cup hit the table with a crisp sound.

His small eyes were fixed on Xiren.

Those eyes held shock and fear, but even more so, a cold rationality befitting a seasoned veteran.

He knew how dangerous the person in front of him was.

He took down three of his men in four seconds—the scarred man being his most capable henchman, who once single-handedly slashed down five dock thugs with a knife.

And this person killed him with a single punch.

The bald man slowly stood up.

His hands were pressed on the table, his thick fingers slightly bent.

The aura of a second-tier extraordinary being began to surge, gushing forth from his body like an undercurrent at the bottom of the sea.

His body changed in a very short time—a faint gray appeared on his skin, like petrification, his muscles bulged under his skin, and his shirt seams hissed as they were stretched open.

A person with enhanced physique.

Similar to Greg, but—

Stronger.

"You are Xilun." The bald man's voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, like sandpaper scraping against an iron plate.

Xilun did not answer.

He took off his apron and threw it on the ground, revealing a short gun tucked behind his back.

Then, he calmly said a sentence.

"Go on."

"What?"

"Go on, tell me how you're going to deal with the Brotherhood."

A sinister glint flashed across the bald man's face.

next moment--

He suddenly lashed out!

He slammed his palms down on the table, shattering it in two, sending fragments, plates, and wine jugs flying in all directions.

The petrified fist, accompanied by the sound of wind, aimed straight for Xilun's face!

The force of that punch was enough to shatter a horse's skull.

But Siron did not hide.

His right hand reached out to meet it.

The Great Thunder Sound Breathing Technique is activated at full power!

A deep, thunderous vibration emanated from within the body.

This is not an ordinary breathing technique—it is the kind of power that Lund described as "compressing the breath to its limit and then releasing it."

Although it is far from reaching the level of the Crimson Star Spear, the internal shock force contained in the Great Thunder Breathing Technique alone is enough to make any extraordinary person of the same level tremble with fear.

Two fists collided!

boom--!

A massive shockwave spread outwards from the point of contact in all directions.

Dust fell from the walls, and the windowpanes shattered from the vibrations.

The bald man's body suddenly froze.

He felt—

The moment your fist makes contact with the opponent's fist, it feels like hitting a recoiling iron wall.

An extremely powerful force came from the opponent's fist. It was not a simple collision of brute force, but a penetrating force with an internal vibration frequency.

The force penetrated his petrified skin, his bulging muscles, and acted directly on his bones and internal organs.

Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound.

The bald man's arm trembled violently under the influence of this internal force, and his entire arm, from his fist to his shoulder, felt numb as if he had been electrocuted.

He stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

How is that possible?

How could there be such a big difference between two second-order physics?

Before he could think any further, Xilun's second move had already arrived.

Left hand!

A chilling, sky-blue aura gathered in his palm—the Profound Yin Condensation Meridian.

The palm strike didn't aim for the bald man's vitals, but instead landed on his right shoulder.

A chilling breath rushed in like a tidal wave!

The bald man let out a low growl, feeling his entire right arm instantly go numb, a bone-chilling coldness emanating from his shoulder joint, as if his blood had frozen in an instant.

His petrified skin was covered with dense ice cracks from the erosion of the cold air, like cracked soil in arid land.

"you--!"

The bald man swung his left hand in a counterattack—

But his movements had already slowed down.

The loss of sensation in the right arm caused the body's center of gravity to shift, greatly reducing the speed and power of the punch.

Xilun dodged the punch by stepping aside, then grabbed the bald man's left wrist with his right hand and pressed it down.

At the same time, his knee rammed into the opponent's abdomen—

The internal shockwave of the Great Thunder Sound erupted once again!

A muffled thud!

The bald man's body bent over like a shrimp.

A mouthful of blood mist spurted from his mouth, and his petrified skin began to crack and peel off.

Xilun loosened his grip on his wrist and took a step back.

The bald man knelt on one knee, his hands supporting him on the ground, panting heavily.

His petrification was fading—not because he voluntarily canceled it, but because his body could no longer maintain it.

The aftershocks of the internal earthquake were still churning inside him.

My internal organs felt like they were being repeatedly hammered with an iron hammer, and every breath was accompanied by intense pain.

"...You're not an ordinary Tier 2." The bald man raised his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his small eyes flashing with an almost crazed light.

Xilun looked down at him.

"you're right."

He slowly raised his right hand.

A dark red bloodstain quietly appeared on the fingertip.

The bloodstain emitted a dark glow, like a slightly open eye.

The bald man's pupils shrank dramatically when he saw the bloodstain.

"No... wait a minute..."

The bloodstain detached from Xilun's fingertip, transforming into a dark red blood needle thinner than a strand of hair—

Whoosh!