Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The blood needle pierced the bald man's forehead silently.

The bald man's body suddenly stiffened.

His mouth was wide open, as if he wanted to let out a final scream, but only a muffled breath came out of his throat.

Then--

The light in his eyes quickly dimmed.

His body fell forward, crashing heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

It stopped moving.

The room was so quiet that only the shivering voice of the gaunt old man could be heard.

Xilun withdrew his hand, sensing the change in the bloodstain on his fingertip.

After absorbing the blood of the fourth second-tier extraordinary being, the second blood seal was already mostly black.

Only one step remains before reaching the pinnacle of cultivation.

He closed his eyes and took a few seconds to feel the new surge of power.

The blood seal was forming faster than before. The blood absorbed from killing the three members of the Hawk family—Gregor, Morris, and Herbert—had brought the second blood seal to 70% of its original size.

Now, including this bald man, there are a total of four extraordinary individuals, one of whom is a second-tier extraordinary individual.

85%.

The power of the Blood Seal has increased.

The dark red mark became more refined and heavier in his perception, like a fruit about to ripen.

One more second-order—or even half a second-order—would complete the process.

Xilun opened his eyes and looked down at the gaunt old man huddled in the chair.

The old man's eyes rolled back; he had fainted from fright.

Xilun did not make things difficult for him.

He bent down and picked up the map, which wasn't stained with blood, from the shattered table, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Then he walked to the window, pushed open the broken window frame, and looked outside.

The second floor isn't high; jumping down would be easy.

But he didn't jump.

He turned and walked out of the room, heading back down the corridor.

When he reached the stairwell, he bent down to pick up the gray trench coat he had taken off and draped over the handrail, put it on, and turned up the collar.

Then he retrieved the iron spear wrapped in cloth from the servants' passage and carried it on his back.

As I stepped out of the back door of the stone building, the sunlight shone on my face.

Warm and peaceful.

It was as if nothing had happened.

Siren walked back to the lakeside along the gravel path on the north wing of the estate.

His steps were neither fast nor slow, his breathing was steady, and his heartbeat had returned to normal after the brief acceleration.

The collar of his trench coat stood up, covering most of his face. The iron spear wrapped in cloth on his back was heavy, but it was nothing compared to the weight he carried when practicing shooting in the back mountain.

The trading gathering at Moon Lake continues.

What happened inside the stone building seemed to have no impact on the outside world.

This is exactly the rule of the trade fair—don't ask where it came from, and don't chase where it's going.

You can buy anything here, and you can lose everything here.

As long as you don't do it in public areas, no one will bother you.

Siren returned to the market.

The market was much more lively in the afternoon than in the morning.

The crowds surged, and all sorts of people crowded in front of the stalls.

There were gentlemen dressed in fine coats and top hats, followed by two or three taciturn attendants—clearly purchasing representatives of a certain family.

There were lone travelers wrapped in tattered cloaks, with only a pair of sharp eyes showing, weaving between the stalls like sharks swimming among reefs.

A group of laughing and joking young people walked together, finding everything new and exciting. They reached out to touch and rub things, only to be sternly rebuked by the stall owner and withdraw their hands, though their eyes still gleamed with excitement.

—They have probably only recently become extraordinary beings and haven't yet witnessed the more brutal side of this world.

Xilun walked past a stall selling exotic carapaces.

The stall owner was a one-armed man with a scarred face. In front of him was a piece of cowhide with a dozen or so pieces of shell of various sizes on it.

Each piece gleamed with a different luster—black, dark green, with metallic textures, or with a faint fluorescent glow floating on its surface.

"These are all good stuff dug out from the deep valley." The one-armed man tapped one of the largest black carapaces with his remaining left hand, producing a dull metallic sound.

"This piece is the chest armor of a Stone-piercing Spider, perfect for crafting armor. A second-tier extraordinary being could only leave a white mark if punched on it."

"How much?" a hooded buyer asked.

"Fifteen gold pounds, no bargaining."

The buyer took a breath, shook his head, and turned to leave.

Sirendo glanced at the shells.

Stone-piercing spider... If it's real, it's definitely a good thing.

But he doesn't need armor now—Lund taught him that armor would affect his agility and would be detrimental to his marksmanship.

He continued walking forward.

He paused as he passed a stall selling incomplete pages of martial arts manuals.

Several yellowed parchment sheets, covered with dense writing and strange patterns, were held in place by iron clamps on the stall.

Xilun glanced at them—most of them were basic breathing techniques and body strengthening methods, of very poor quality, not even qualifying as beginner level.

But a piece of paper in the far corner caught his attention.

It was a torn page from a book, the paper of which was much thicker than the others. Although the ink on it had faded, the strokes were still clearly visible.

The script is a handwritten form from the Old Order period.

Xilun recognized several of the words—

"Purification of Intention", "Resonance", "Guided by White Intention".

His heart skipped a beat.

These are fragments of documents from the School of Life Sciences.

"How much is this?"

The stall owner was an old scholar wearing thick-rimmed glasses. Hearing Xilun's voice, he pushed up his glasses and looked in the direction Xilun was pointing.

"Oh, that one," the old scholar clicked his tongue. "Five gold pounds."

Xilun did not make a counter-offer.

He took out five gold pounds and placed them on the table, carefully folded the tattered piece of paper, and stuffed it into his inner pocket.

The old scholar looked at the gold coins, seemingly surprised by the other party's generosity. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

Xilun turned and left.

He walked through the bustling main passage and came to a quiet area by the lake.

This is a small clearing surrounded by several old willow trees, their shade dense and the light soft. Several benches are placed by the lake for people who are tired from walking to rest.

A few people were sitting sparsely in the open space.

A middle-aged woman in a long robe sat cross-legged on the ground, with a bronze divination plate in front of her, and was meditating with her eyes closed.

An elderly man with a full head of white hair was dozing off on a bench, with a cane beside him—but at the tip of the cane was a dark red gem the size of a thumb, radiating a faint but continuous warmth.

Two young men were squatting by the lake, dipping their fingers in the water and drawing something on the stones, arguing in hushed tones about whether a certain spell pattern was drawn backwards.

Siren sat down on a bench.

He took out the scrap of paper he had just bought from his pocket, unfolded it, and read it carefully.

The contents of the tattered page were incomplete, but it mentioned a concept he had never seen in the Tussor family archives—

"Pure Resonance".

According to the description on the fragment, when the caster's spiritual purity reaches a certain critical point, the white intention of the Prayer Sprout will no longer be a simple "purification tool," but will be able to "resonate" with the caster's spiritual core.

In a state of resonance, the coverage and penetration depth of the whiteness will achieve a qualitative leap.

But the page ends here.

There is no explanation on how to reach that "critical point" or what the specific effects of resonance are.

Xilun folded the torn page and put it away, leaned back on the bench, and looked at the shimmering lake in front of him.

Pure resonance...

This is one of the directions he needs to pursue right now.

Prayer Sprout is his most important trump card. If he can develop it to the Resonance stage, he will have an overwhelming advantage in both purification tasks such as healing Elder Campbell and fighting mentally polluting enemies such as the Whispering Choir.

But he also clearly remembered the warning in the book "A Study of the Pure Mind Lineage of the Ancient Order"—

The practitioner's own mental world will inevitably suffer a backlash if they attempt to purify the mental pollution of others over a long period of time.

In other words, he has to bear a price for every person he saves.

This was a thorny path, but he had no way out.

Xilun stood up and continued walking back.

The afternoon sun shone through the gaps in the clouds, turning the lake surface into a shimmering gold.

He walked slowly along the lakeside path, the sounds of the distant market filling his ears.

He stopped and bought a paper bag of roasted chestnuts as he passed a small cart.

The roasted chestnuts were so hot that they burned his fingers through the paper bag, emitting a delicious, caramelized aroma.

Xilun peeled and ate chestnuts as he walked.

This feeling is strange.

Just minutes ago he was killing people in the stone building, but now he's eating roasted chestnuts by the lake.

But he didn't find it contradictory; that's just how the world is.

Murder and eating chestnuts were just two separate events that happened on the same day.

He walked back to the main passage of the market and sat down in front of a stall selling hot tea.

A large copper kettle sat in the shed, steam rising from its spout. The owner, a plump woman with a cheerful smile, deftly poured tea for the guests.

"A drink, please." Xiren sat in the corner.

The plump woman poured him a cup of strong tea; the tea was deep red and had a smoky flavor.

Xilun held a teacup and leaned back in his chair.

The body relaxes slightly, but the resonant cavity remains half-open.

His ears picked up all the sounds around him—

"...Have you heard? There's a war in the north, and tens of thousands have died in the Empire..."

"...The price of the potion has gone up again. Last month it was three gold pounds a bottle, but now you can't even buy one for five..."

"...Let me tell you, that so-called Golden Knight is just a pretty face that's been hyped up. If he really ran into a Tier 3 opponent, one shot would be enough to kill him..."

"...Shh, keep your voice down. Do you know whose side he's on? Tusol! That's the biggest family in the North..."

Xilun took a sip of tea, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Golden Knight.

This reputation has now spread to Moon Lake.

Some people are in awe, some are disdainful, some are curious, and some are wary.

It doesn't matter.

He doesn't need everyone to fear him—he only needs those who should fear him to be fearful enough.

After finishing his tea, Xilun stood up.

He walked around the market again.

This time, it wasn't about buying anything, but purely about observation.

He observed the way the stall owners called out their wares—some were shrewd, some were generous, some were cunning, and some were honest.

He observed the buyers' eye for selecting goods—experts could tell at a glance whether something was good or not; those who truly knew their stuff never asked about the price, but instead smelled, touched, and tried it first.

He observed those extraordinary individuals who were solitary—each possessed a different aura; some were as solid as mountains, some as cold as abyss, and some appeared ordinary but were actually profound and unassuming.

This is the world of the extraordinary.

A world that is more dangerous, more exciting, and more cruel than the world of ordinary people.

In this world, strength is the only passport.

Without strength, you can't even get through the gates of this market.

With power, you can buy anything—techniques, potions, weapons, intelligence, even other people's lives.

Siren walked through the end of the market and came to a ruin in the west wing of the manor.

There are no more stalls here, only a few half-collapsed walls and a crooked old locust tree.

He sat down with his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

The power of the second blood seal slowly circulated within his body.

The feeling was subtle—like a ball of molten metal flowing through your veins, strengthening and tempering your muscles and bones wherever it went.

The blood of four second-tier extraordinary beings.

Greg, Morris, Herbert, and that bald man from earlier.

Four portions of the second-tier essence blood flowed into the second blood seal, pushing it to 85% completion.

We are only one and a half steps away from perfection.

As Xilun sensed the increasingly concentrated power deep within the blood seal, his heart remained calm as still water.

It can't be rushed.

What's meant to come will come.

He stood up and dusted off his pants.

On his way back, he passed by the chestnut cart again.

On the open ground next to the cart, two Tier 1 Extraordinary individuals were arm wrestling, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.

A burly, bear-like man with a red beard was pressing down hard on the arm of the skinny man opposite him, and it looked like he was about to win.

But the skinny man suddenly grinned, and a layer of light blue patterns appeared on his arm—some kind of body enhancement technique—before he suddenly exerted his strength.

Redbeard slammed the back of his hand heavily on the table.

The onlookers burst into laughter and cheers.

The red-bearded man's face flushed red. He pulled two silver coins from his pocket, slammed them on the table, and walked away cursing.

The skinny man chuckled and stuffed the silver coin into his pocket.

Xilun walked past them, his gaze lingering for a moment on the pale blue light pattern.

Surface enhancement – ​​similar to the bald man's petrification, but of several levels lower quality.

The gap between first-order and second-order is sometimes greater than the difference between heaven and earth.

The difference between second-order and third-order orders—

It is an almost insurmountable chasm.

Third-order facilitator.

The bait that Austin had thrown out resurfaced in Xiren's mind at that moment.

He needs that thing.

It wasn't for the Tusol family, it wasn't for Austin—

It's for myself.

Only by breaking through to the third tier will he be qualified to face those real threats.

Balk.

Oin.

Secret Whisper Choir.

as well as--

The eight-armed statue of a god sleeping in the depths of the Black Sea in my dream.

Xilun walked out of the manor's iron gate and retraced his steps along the gravel path he had come from.

As the sun set, it painted the outlines of the hills a golden-red hue.

Moon Lake gradually receded into the distance behind him, its surface reflecting the twilight like a bronze mirror sinking into dusk.

He walked slowly, but each step was steady.

An iron spear on his back, a short gun at his waist, and a scepter nailed into his boot.

He had a piece of ancient cult paper tucked in his inner pocket, and six bottles of Yin Spirit Water and various auxiliary materials in the hidden pocket of his trench coat.

as well as--

The second blood seal within his body was nearing completion.

He needed to return to the North District before nightfall.

Xilun climbed over the gentle slope and stepped onto the dirt road covered with weeds.

In the twilight, his shadow stretched long, cast across the desolate plains like a silent spear standing between heaven and earth.

In the distance, lights began to twinkle in the direction of the northern district.

Beneath those lights, there were Rhodes and Kusso waiting for him to return, Rena bustling about, smuggling gangs to deal with, and enemies lurking in the shadows.

There was also a man named Balk.

Xilun quickened his pace.

The hem of the trench coat fluttered gently in the evening breeze.

He didn't turn back.