Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

As dusk settled, the streets of the northern district were shrouded in a layer of gray-blue twilight.

Xilun sat in the back of the carriage, the hood of his old overcoat pulled low, with an iron gun wrapped tightly in coarse cloth beside him.

The wheels rolled over the wet cobblestone pavement, making a dull, rhythmic sound, like a slow heartbeat.

His eyes were slightly closed, and his breathing was so steady that it didn't seem like someone who had just killed someone an hour and a half ago.

The reverberation cavity always operates at a low frequency.

Every sound within a 30-meter radius—the crisp sound of horses' hooves striking the pavement, the clatter of shattered glass in the corner tavern, the low, hoarse voice of a woman soothing her child to sleep behind a second-floor window—spread out like a fine net, layer upon layer, into his senses.

There are no trackers, at least not yet.

As the carriage rounded the intersection of Wellington Street, the silhouette of the Brotherhood mansion emerged in the twilight in the distance.

The iron gate was half open, and two oil lamps hung under the porch, their dim yellow light spreading a warm glow in the damp air.

Kusso's figure appeared first on the steps.

This experienced Tier 1 Extraordinary had clearly been waiting for a long time. As the carriage approached, he strode forward, grabbed the reins, and quickly scanned Xilun's entire body with his eyes.

There was no blood, no wounds, and the clothes weren't even wrinkled.

"grown ups."

"Um."

Xilun jumped off the carriage and handed the coarse cloth covering the iron spear to Kusuo. "There are some rust marks on the spear. Clean it up; we'll need it tomorrow."

Kusuo took the iron spear, weighed it in his hand, and asked no further questions.

Having spent these days with Siron, he had grown accustomed to the young governor's style of doing things.

He meant it and wouldn't waste words on such matters. As for what the gun had touched tonight, Kusso knew, but he wouldn't utter a word about it.

Upon entering the mansion, Rod was already waiting at the end of the corridor.

The old butler held a candlestick in his hand, and the wrinkles on his face appeared even deeper in the flickering candlelight.

He saw that Xilen had returned safely, and his shoulders visibly relaxed, but then tensed up again—because he noticed the irregular bulges around Xilen's waist.

Those were things I bought at the trade fair.

"Sir, the hot water is ready, and the study light is on."

"Hard."

Xilun unbuttoned his trench coat and gave instructions as he walked upstairs.

"Call Rena over. She'll be in the study in half an hour. Also, have the kitchen heat up a strong pot of tea. We might be up until the wee hours tonight."

Rod responded and turned to go downstairs to make the arrangements.

Xilun went into the bathroom on the second floor alone.

The rising steam from the hot water blurred the face reflected in the bronze mirror.

He took off his clothes and laid out the items he had bought at the Moon Lake trade fair that day, one by one, on the wooden bench—

Six bottles of Yin Spirit Source Water, the bottles were icy cold, and the liquid shimmered with a cold, eerie blue light under the candlelight.

Two fragments of the essence of cold marrow were wrapped in oiled paper, and even through the paper, one could feel the bone-chilling coldness.

The three sticks of purifying incense, with their grayish-brown bodies engraved with fine patterns, exude a faint woody fragrance.

A bottle of calming elixir, its amber liquid swaying gently within, is a rare potion capable of repairing mental rifts.

Two bottles of common medical medication.

And the map that was taken from the bald man.

There is also a fragment of a document from the ancient Christian school of life studies.

Xilun carefully categorized these items, then stepped into the hot water.

The water temperature is just right.

He leaned against the edge of the bathtub, closed his eyes, and began practicing the Moon Memory Meditation Technique.

In the spiritual realm, the sacred bud of prayer stands quietly under the silvery moonlight, its branches and leaves slightly unfurled, radiating a faint, pure glow.

The black mark on his right wrist remained dormant, like a sleeping snake, showing no signs of movement.

He looked down at his right hand.

The skin on the palms was smooth and clean, and the five fingers were long and strong, showing no abnormalities.

But he knew that the mark was hidden beneath his skin, connected to a colossal being with eight arms who slept deep in the ocean.

Let's not think about it for now.

Xilun withdrew his gaze and shifted his attention to the energy within his body.

The Great Thunder Sound Breathing Method and the Mysterious Yin Breathing Method operate independently in the meridians, one hot and one cold, one hard and one soft, like two undercurrents that always maintain a delicate balance.

After this period of adjustment, the two completely opposite energies can now coexist peacefully within him, and even resonate briefly at certain moments.

When he killed that bald man in the stone building tonight, he clearly felt—

The moment the inner shock of the Great Thunderclap pierced through the petrified defense, the chilling breath of the Profound Yin followed closely behind, surging into the opponent's body. The two forces attacked from both sides, leaving the enemy almost no room to breathe.

The teamwork is becoming more and more seamless.

But not enough.

Xiren stood up from the water, dried himself off, and changed into a clean linen shirt and dark gray trousers.

When he entered the study, Rena was already sitting in the chair by the window, waiting for him.

The young woman was wearing a dark turtleneck coat tonight, her hair was tied back, and her face was serene.

Several sheets of paper were spread out on the table in front of her, containing a summary of intelligence she had recently compiled.

"grown ups."

"sit."

Xilun sat down behind the desk, laid out the things he had brought back from Moon Lake one by one on the table, and then took out the map from the inside pocket of his trench coat and unfolded it.

That was a hand-drawn map of the North Wharf area.

The lines are rough, but the annotations are extremely detailed—the locations of the Brotherhood's three branch warehouses, daily patrol routes, shift change times, and even the direction of the entrance to the waterfall behind the mansion are drawn.

Rena leaned closer for a look, her pupils contracting slightly.

"Where did this come from?"

"Moon Lake, the men with black sails."

Xilun's tone was flat, as if he were saying that he had bought a few pounds of chestnuts that day.

"Black Sails?" Rena's voice dropped a half-octave. "The master has made his move?"

"Their leader is a second-tier physique enhancement type." Xiren pointed to the red circle on the map that marked the location of the Brotherhood's southern warehouse.

"He was having a private conversation with four of his men in room number seven of the stone building when I happened to pass by and overheard some interesting things."

Rena remained silent for a moment.

She knew what "just happened to be passing by" meant.

"The leader is dead?"

"Dead. There were two of his men, one killed on the spot, and one I knocked unconscious and left behind. The last one is a skinny old man who fainted from fright, and he's probably still lying in that room."

Xilun leaned back in his chair, his fingertips lightly tapping the table.

These people are not the important ones.

He took a small notebook out of his shirt pocket, opened it, and found a few lines of notes he had taken in pencil on the carriage.

"Victor, arrive the day after tomorrow night with ten elite Tier 1 soldiers. Monica will be in charge of providing support from the outside."

Have you looked up these two names?

Rena took the notebook, her brows gradually furrowing.

"Victor...a member of the Anchor Regiment." She looked up.

"A Tier 2 Extraordinary, with excellent marksmanship, and supposedly a former mercenary in the colonies. Monica isn't sure, but if he's connected to the anchor, he's likely a liaison sent by the Deep Sea Squad."

"The three companies joined forces."

Xilun's voice was flat.

"Black Sail, Anchor, Deepwater. I've already taken Black Sail's head, but the other two don't know about it—at least not in the short term. It'll take them at least two or three days to get the news."

He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack.

The night wind, carrying the salty smell of the distant dock, blew in and flickered the candlelight on the table.

"These two to three days will be our window of opportunity."

Xiren turned around and looked at Rena.

"Write down everything that happened tonight. The Black Sail leader is dead, and their network in the North District will be temporarily paralyzed, but Anchor and Deepwater won't stop. Victor will arrive the day after tomorrow, which means their plan has entered the execution phase."

"What does the master plan to do?"

"Let's process the resources first."

Xilun sat back down in his chair and arranged the six bottles of Yin Spirit Source Water in a row.

"The Profound Yin Breathing Technique has been stalled for almost two weeks and can't be delayed any longer. Use the Frost Marrow Essence Fragments to help purify the Cold Breath, light one Purifying Heart Incense stick every night during meditation, and save the Tranquilizing Dew just in case."

He picked up one of the bottles, uncorked it, and the dark blue liquid emitted a chilling aura.

"Starting tomorrow, practice the Profound Yin Breathing Technique every morning, practice shooting in the morning, organize intelligence in the afternoon, and meditate in the evening. Maintain this rhythm for at least five days."

Rena nodded and wrote these arrangements down on a piece of paper.

"Also," Xiren put down the bottle, his gaze falling on the map.

"They know the fraternity's locations inside and out. Patrol routes, changing of the guard times, warehouse layouts... this isn't something that can be figured out in a few days."

"What does the adult mean?"

"Someone inside is passing messages to them, or they have set up long-term surveillance points."

Xilun drew a line on the map with his fingertip.

"Have your men keep an eye on the surrounding area, especially around the South and East warehouses, and see if any unfamiliar faces are seen there regularly. Don't alert them; just keep an eye on them, record the observations, and report back to you daily."

"clear."

Rena put away her notes and stood up to leave. But as she reached the door, she suddenly stopped.

"grown ups."

"Um?"

"Will anyone at Moon Lake see you make a move?"

Xilun was silent for two seconds.

"Won't."

His tone was very confident.

"I left through the back door. The kitchen passage is behind the stone building. There was only one cook there at that time, so he didn't see my face. The body and the unconscious person in room number seven won't be discovered until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"Moreover," he added, "the rule at Moon Lake is that you don't judge by appearance. Even if someone becomes suspicious, they won't be able to trace it back to me."

Rena nodded, pushed open the door, and went out.

The study fell silent again.

Siren sat alone by candlelight, spreading the tattered page of the ancient order's School of Life literature back out on the table.

The text on the tattered page is ancient and obscure, the ink has faded to a light brown, but it is still legible.

"...The resonance of pure intention is not driven by external force, but is a reflection of the inner self. The sacred bud takes root in the soil of the spirit, and the strength of its radiance depends on the purity of the practitioner's soul..."

"By purifying the filth of others over a long period of time, the practitioner's spirit will inevitably become tainted with the residue, just as clear water filtering mud and sand will eventually become clogged, even if the water is clean..."

Xilun's fingertip hovered over the words "the filter will eventually get clogged."

He recalled his feelings when he treated Elder Campbell.

Each of those three cleansing pressures felt like stretching one's spirit into an extremely thin thread, piercing through the thick, foul-smelling pollution in the other's mind, and burning off the threads wrapped around the core one by one.

During the process, he clearly felt extremely fine, almost imperceptible black dust adhering to his spiritual line.

At the time, he thought it was just an illusion caused by fatigue.

It now appears that this is not the case.

Xilun closed the tattered page and tucked it into a thick book.

This matter is not urgent.

The most important things right now are the anchor and the deep water.

He unfolded the map again, his gaze shifting back and forth between the marked locations.

Three smuggling gangs joined forces to deal with the Brotherhood. Although Black Sail was killed, Anchor and Deepwater's strength remained.

According to previous intelligence, Iron Anchor has a military background, while Deepwater is associated with a mysterious cult.

Each of these two organizations has several second-tier extraordinary individuals in charge, as well as a musketeer squad.

Xilun rested his chin on his hand, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

If they learn that the Black Sail leader has been killed...

Will they stop?

will not.

Given the smuggling ring's modus operandi, the murder of their accomplices would only make them more eager to take action.

The longer it drags on, the better prepared the Brotherhood becomes, and the smaller their window of opportunity becomes.

Moreover, judging from the information extracted from the bald man, Victor will be bringing his men over the night after tomorrow.

The plan is already underway.

Xilun closed his eyes and went over every word he had heard in the stone building that day in his mind.

"...With all three factions attacking together, even if that Golden Knight is powerful, he's still just one person..."

"...First, attack his resource points to lure him out, then surround him on the way..."

"...Victor said there's a field master at the anchor site, they can make arrangements in advance..."

Field.

This word made Xilun frown slightly.

He didn't know much about the field, only that it was a regional suppression method that required special materials and skills to set up.

Once someone enters the area, their perception, power, and even the operation of their breathing techniques will be interfered with to varying degrees.

If the other party has indeed set up a field along the only possible route...

Even if he was confident he could take on two opponents at once, the pressure from the area's suppression and the combined attack of multiple second-tier extraordinary beings made him vulnerable.

"We can't take that risk."

Xilun opened his eyes, his gaze darkening.

He pulled a clean sheet of paper from the drawer, picked up a pen, and wrote a few lines on it.

Then fold the letter, put it in the envelope, and seal it with sealing wax.

The recipient's name was not written on the envelope.

But Xilun knew who to give it to.

He stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

There were no stars in the night sky; thick clouds blocked out all light sources.

A deep, mournful whistle came from the direction of the distant dock, like the sigh of some giant beast in the darkness.

The war continues, and prices continue to rise.

And those who covet him in the shadows will not stop their pursuit.

Celen closed the window and blew out the candle.

Even in the darkness, his eyes remained bright.

His goal was too far away, and he was too insignificant.

If we want to forge ahead, the only thing we need to do is persevere.