Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The news spread.

At the Extraordinary Trade Gathering at Moon Lake, a Tier 2 Extraordinary was killed.

The news first leaked from the organizers of the gathering, and then, like a rising tide, quickly spread to every street, every pub, and every dockworker's conversation in the North District.

"Have you heard? A big shot died over at Moon Lake."

"A second-tier being? Who's so bold as to make a move at Moon Lake?"

"It didn't happen in the trading area, it happened in a private room in the north wing. When the cleaning crew went in the next day, good heavens, there was blood everywhere, even on the walls."

"How many died?"

"Two died on the spot, one fainted, and an old man was terrified. The second-tier guy had something stuck in his head, and the blood had dried up."

The discussion spread through the rough voices of the dockworkers, and the versions became increasingly bizarre.

Some said it was a revenge killing, some said it was a robbery, and others whispered that the dead were members of a smuggling gang with many lives on their hands.

This last rumor is the closest to the truth.

The Brotherhood quickly uncovered the deceased's background—Biggren, the leader of the Black Sails smuggling ring, a second-tier enhanced extraordinary individual who rose from a dockworker to become the smuggling ring's boss.

His men had done a lot of dirty work in the North District, and the confirmed missing persons cases alone involved no fewer than ten lives.

Among those who went missing were small vendors who refused to pay protection money, dockworkers who stumbled upon a smuggling deal, and a fifteen-year-old newsboy—simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"People like that deserve to die."

"That's right. Everyone should kill him!"

"I just don't know who did it..."

The murmurs gradually subsided amidst the pub's clamor, drowned out by a new round of beer and tobacco.

But some people's reactions went beyond just talking.

……

Old shipyard.

Victor Brown received news of Biglen's death sooner than he expected.

It didn't come from Moon Lake, but from the man he sent to Biglen Wharf—the place was deserted, the door was sealed, and two patrol officers were standing there questioning people.

"Is it confirmed?"

Victor sat in his office on the second floor, his voice calm, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the pencil.

"It's confirmed." John's face was even paler than usual.

"Biggren, Lao Liu, and Qiu Ran died on the spot. Arno was knocked unconscious and his whereabouts are currently unknown. The local informant has also disappeared."

Victor placed the pencil on the table.

Silence, a very long silence.

John stood there, not daring to utter a sound.

He had known Victor for almost ten years and knew what this silence meant—it wasn't hesitation or fear, but rather calculation.

Calculate the pros and cons, the timing, and the next step.

"Have the people from Sham Shui Po arrived yet?"

"Wait downstairs."

"Let her come up."

John went out, and less than two minutes later, a woman wearing a dark green coat walked in.

Monica.

She was in her early thirties, slender, with very short, dark brown hair that revealed a pair of narrow eyes with a cold, deep-sea-like gleam.

Her right hand was always tucked into her coat pocket, where she concealed a dagger that could cut through iron like mud.

He is the liaison for the Deepwater Group and also a Tier 1 Extraordinary.

"I've heard the news."

Monica sat down opposite Victor, speaking at a moderate pace.

"Biglen is dead, and the Black Sails are leaderless; they can't be relied upon anytime soon. Mr. Victor, what do you plan to do?"

Victor looked at her.

"What do you mean by 'Sham Shui Po'?"

"What do you mean?" Monica raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Biggren died in a private room at Moon Lake. Moon Lake's rule is to not investigate based on appearance, so so far no one knows who did it. But—"

She paused for a moment.

"There was a coincidence."

"What coincidence?"

"The day Biglen went to Moon Lake, 'Golden Knight' Siren also went."

The air in the office seemed a few degrees colder.

Victor's thumb remained still at the end of the scar.

Are you sure?

"We have our own informant at Moon Lake. That afternoon, someone saw a hooded young man in the North Wing corridor whose build matched Siron's description. Of course, this is just speculation; there's no concrete evidence."

"Speculation is enough."

Victor stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the old shipyard, the sea breeze was pushing a dark cloud from the east, and the sky was turning gloomy.

"Biglen was a Tier 2, a physical enhancement type, whose skin could petrify. He brought four people with him, and the room was a closed space with only one door. Under these conditions, they were all wiped out..."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping from Monica's face to John's, before finally settling on the map on the table.

"If it really was Xilun who did it, this person is more dangerous than we thought."

Monica nodded, a cold smile curving her lips slightly.

"So what? We're just going to give up here?"

"Stop?"

Victor chuckled softly.

The laughter was soft, yet it carried a bitterness and hardness characteristic of mercenaries.

"Monica, do you know why I came all the way from the Southern Continent to this godforsaken place?"

Monica did not answer.

"Because my wife and son need to eat." Victor's voice was flat, as if he were giving a weather forecast.

"The war has tripled prices, and my savings won't even last through one winter. Smuggling in the North District is the only way out I can find right now. If this path is blocked by a young man named Xilun—"

He paused.

"Then I'll have to move him off the road."

Monica slowly pulled her hand out of her pocket and placed her fingers interlaced on the table.

"The Deepwater Group thinks the same way you do. Biglen is dead. If we don't retaliate, what will people think of us? How will we do business in the North District after this?"

She lowered her voice.

"And there's an even more important reason."

"explain."

"Biggren knew about our three-way alliance. Although he's dead, his underling Arno, who was knocked unconscious—if he wakes up, if he's captured by the Brotherhood, if he reveals the plan for the three-way alliance..."

Monica didn't finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear.

Victor's eyes narrowed.

"You mean we have to act before the Brotherhood can react?"

"I didn't say that," Monica said, spreading her hands.

"It's the situation that's forcing us. Once Biglen is dead, the news will leak out sooner or later. If we don't act first and wait for that Siren to figure out the whole plan of the three parties joining forces and come knocking on our door, then we'll be on the defensive."

Victor sat back down at the table.

How many people can you send from Sham Shui Po?

"Two Tier 2 Extraordinary Ones." Monica held up two fingers. "In addition, there is a 20-man musketeer squad equipped with the latest twin-gun muskets, whose rate of fire and power are twice that of ordinary pepper pistols."

"There are two Tier 2s on the Anchor side, plus myself, that makes three." Victor drew a few circles on the map.

"These ten elite Tier 1 soldiers are all veterans brought back from the Southern Continent. Night fighting and street fighting are their specialties."

"Adding the remaining Black Sail soldiers... even if only half are still usable, there are still about ten Tier 1 soldiers."

Monica did the math.

"Five second-tier extraordinary individuals, over thirty first-tier individuals, and a musketeer squad. All of them against a young man who has only been at the second tier for six months—"

"If it's just dealing with one person, this is overkill," Victor interrupted her.

"But Siren is no ordinary person. He killed three members of the Hawk family single-handedly, and cleared out a second-tier member and four subordinates in the enclosed space of Moon Lake all by himself."

He drew a line on the map with a pencil.

"So we won't confront him head-on. We'll attack his resource points first to lure him out. Then, on his inevitable route—"

The pencil stopped at the intersection of Hebin Road and Laoqiao Street.

"Wait for him here."

Victor looked at Monica.

"Does your Deepwater guild have any area masters?"

"Yes." A glint flashed in Monica's eyes.

"And it's a good one. The interference field he set up can suppress the perception and aura circulation of extraordinary individuals within a 30-meter range. In addition, we have several extraordinary items—flashbangs, silencing talismans, and an iron shield that can temporarily withstand second-tier attacks."

Victor's brow finally relaxed.

That's enough.

He stood up and rolled up the map.

"The plan is this: late the night after tomorrow, three Tier 1 Extraordinary Ones will lead musketeers to attack the Brotherhood's South Warehouse."

"Go all out! Make sure Xilen knows something serious has happened over there. He'll definitely go personally to rescue him, because that's his most important resource point in the North District."

"The fastest route from his residence to the South Warehouse passes through Old Bridge Street."

We set up a trap and ambush at the intersection of Laoqiao Street and Hebin Road, where all five Tier 2 Extraordinary Beings lay in wait. We waited until he stepped into the encirclement—”

Victor made a gesture of clenching his palms.

"They rushed forward."

Monica nodded slowly, her coldness replaced by a shrewd and cautious expression.

"He has a reputation, but he was only one person and had only been at the second level for half a year. Even if he could fight three against one before, it's impossible for him to be ambushed and still manage to kill all five of us when he was well prepared."

"Not five," Victor corrected.

"With the added elements of the terrain, traps, musketeers, and extraordinary tools, he faced a deadly trap tailor-made for him. No one could escape unscathed under such conditions."

He walked to the door, opened it, and glanced back at Monica.

"Two nights later, take action precisely on time. Prepare yourselves, and do not let word get out."

Monica stood up and straightened the collar of her coat.

"Mr. Victor."

"Um?"

"After killing him, how will the Brotherhood's assets be divided?"

"Fifty-fifty," Victor replied crisply. "Half anchor and half deep water."

Monica smiled.

The smile was faint, yet it conveyed a sense of unwavering satisfaction.

"make a deal."

She walked out of the office, her footsteps fading away on the stairs.

Victor closed the door and sat back down at the table.

He pulled a piece of paper from the drawer and picked up a pen.

He wrote half a line, then crossed it out.

He wanted to write a letter to his wife, but he didn't know what to write.

You can't exactly say, "Honey, I'm going to kill a young man in his early twenties the day after tomorrow. If all goes well, we can buy that land after this winter."

Victor put down his pen and blew out the oil lamp.

In the darkness, his eyes were closed, but the scar remained clearly visible in the shadows, like a winding silver line.

……

Meanwhile, in the study on the second floor of the Brotherhood's mansion.

Siren is writing a letter.

On the table were three sealed letters—one to Rhodes about adjusting patrol deployments; one to Rena about strengthening intelligence gathering; and one to Kusso about the mansion's nighttime defenses.

The fourth letter has just been written.

He put a lot of thought into the wording of this letter.

"...As you have said, stance is of paramount importance. Although Xilun has had dealings with the Tusor family due to the need for cultivation resources, it has absolutely no intention of deeply siding with either side."

This letter is written in the hope of establishing an equally in-depth relationship with your side, so that we can share information and support each other.

Recently, smuggling has been rampant in the North District, seriously disrupting the stability of the parish. I, Xilun, am willing to do my utmost to help eliminate this scourge...

He folded the letter and put it in the envelope.

Then he took something out of the inside pocket of his shirt.

A small bronze badge.

The front of the badge features an inverted hammer, while the back is engraved with a string of ancient characters he cannot understand.

This was handed to him by a member of the armed insurgent party during the last gathering of extraordinary individuals.

"Take this; if you need anything in the future, use it to contact us."

Another sentence that Fen Zhi had said at the time also echoed in his ears.

"Your butt can't be crooked."

Siren put the badge and the letter into a small cloth bag and called Rod.

Rod took the bag, his fingers touching the hard object inside, and he paused for a moment.

"My lord, this is..."

"A letter and a badge," Siren said firmly. "Deliver them today."

"clear."

Rod didn't ask any more questions and turned to go downstairs.

Xilun leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped together on his stomach.

He closed his eyes and mentally reviewed the current chessboard.

The Tusor family – a cooperative relationship, providing cultivation resources, but Oin is a hidden danger, with Austin manipulating the game behind the scenes.

The Whispering Choir – is consolidating its power and temporarily avoiding war, but the ancestral artifact "Echoes" poses a significant threat.

The three smuggling groups—Black Sail and Deepwater—are leaderless, and Iron Anchor and Deepwater are about to join forces to take action.

The armed insurgent party – cautious in its approach, but willing to cooperate.

Balk – Intelligence gathering phase, no formal action yet.

The eight-armed deity statue—a mark on its right wrist—presents a long-term hidden danger.

Ironblood Society – Lund has made an introduction, awaiting Wolf's reply.

With so many lines tangled together, one wrong move could result in someone strangling you by one of them.

But Xiren knew very well that there was only one most urgent matter at hand—

The smuggling gangs won't have to wait long.

Once news of Biglen's death reaches Anchor and Deepwater, they will either back down or accelerate their actions.

Given the smuggling gang's modus operandi, the likelihood of them backing down is very low.

Therefore, he must prepare before the other party.

To be well prepared, the Brotherhood's current manpower is not enough.

That's why he wrote that letter.