Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun walked to the bedside.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, raised his right hand, and slowly pressed it onto Mr. Link's forehead.

The reverberation chamber is opened.

He closed his eyes and probed his consciousness into the person's body.

At first, he heard normal bodily sounds—heartbeat, blood flow, breathing, and bowel movements.

These faint and disordered sounds indicate that the person's bodily functions have severely declined.

But that's not what made Celen frown.

What made him frown was—

Beneath those normal bodily sounds, there is another layer of sound.

Extremely subtle and extremely hidden.

If Siron's echo chamber hadn't already accumulated enough experience in treating Elder Campbell, he would have almost ignored this sound.

It was a low-frequency, continuous hum.

It was as if something was buried deep inside this person's body, slowly but continuously circulating.

Xilun intensified its perception efforts.

His consciousness followed that buzzing sound deeper and deeper, through muscles, through fascia, through bones—

finally--

He saw it.

It's not about "seeing," but about "perceiving."

Deep within this person's chest cavity, right next to the heart, there was a dark mass.

It's not pollution.

It was at least not the kind of active contamination he had seen on Elder Campbell.

This black mass became even more silent and reserved, like a seed sealed within a body.

It shows no signs of spreading outwards, but it also shows no signs of abating.

It simply stayed there quietly, slowly absorbing the host's life force bit by bit.

Xilun withdrew his hand.

He opened his eyes and looked at David.

"Your father's situation is complicated."

"How so?" David asked nervously.

"It's not just ordinary pollution," Xilun said, carefully choosing his words.

"There's something inside him... I can't determine exactly what it is right now. We need more time to observe and analyze it."

"Approximately how long will it take?"

"A few days."

David's expression relaxed slightly, but then immediately tensed up again—

"So you mean—you're willing to get treatment?"

"I said, whether it can be cured, and to what extent, I'll decide after I've seen it."

Xilun stood up.

The sky outside the window had completely darkened.

“I’ll be staying here tonight,” he said. “By the way, I need a few things—a tranquilizing potion and a mind-cleansing incense, if your family has any.”

"Yes—yes, we have everything!" David nodded quickly. "I'll have someone prepare it right away."

……

The sky gradually darkened.

The last rays of twilight sank beneath the rooftops, and the bedroom quickly grew dim.

David lit the kerosene lamp on the bedside table himself.

The warm yellow flame flickered gently inside the glass lampshade, reflecting off Mr. Link's gaunt face.

The wrinkles on that face were like a dried-up riverbed, deeply embedded in the skin, each line bearing the weight of time.

Xilun stood by the window, his gaze passing over the half-drawn curtains, taking in the entirety of the estate.

The Link family estate was larger than he had expected.

The main building is a three-story gray stone building with a row of auxiliary buildings extending from each of the two wings, enclosing a spacious courtyard.

Several old oak trees stand in the courtyard, their canopies casting a dark shadow in the twilight. Beyond that, there are neatly trimmed lawns, gravel paths, and the faint outline of a wall in the distance.

There were quite a few people in the manor.

Through the window glass, Xilun could see small groups of people moving between the courtyard and the corridors—servants in uniform, guards with swords, and a few well-dressed young people with unhurried steps.

He opened the reverberation chamber, slowly expanding the range of his perception.

The sounds from inside the manor came in waves—footsteps, conversations, the clinking of swords, the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, and even the snorting of horses in the distant stables.

These sounds, though numerous, were orderly and functioned smoothly, demonstrating the well-organized management of the manor.

But what concerned Xilun even more were the several auras mixed in with it.

At least a dozen first-tier extraordinary individuals were scattered throughout the manor.

There were also five or six more profound and refined auras, which should be those of the second rank.

One was in a room somewhere in the east wing, another... was on the second floor of the main building, less than forty meters away from him, and the rest were scattered in various places, making it difficult to identify.

For a viscount family of this size, this configuration is not considered luxurious, but it is enough to protect their family.

"Ready."

David's voice came from behind.

Xilun turned around.

David was carrying a tray with two bottles of tranquility potion, a box of mind-cleansing incense, and a set of neatly folded, clean clothes on it.

"The Tranquility Potion is from this year's new batch, and the Mind-Cleansing Incense was taken from the family's ancestral hall, so the quality should be quite good."

David placed the tray on the table and pointed to the clothes, "I've also prepared a change of clothes, but the size might not be right. You can make do with these for now."

Xiren picked up a bottle of Tranquility Potion, uncorked it, and brought it close to his nose to smell it.

A faint, bitter herbal scent permeated the nasal cavity; the aroma was crisp and pure, without any unnecessary additives.

The quality is indeed quite good, even better than the batch he bought at the Moon Lake trade fair.

Thank you.

He put the medicine back on the tray.

David hesitated for a moment, then said, "Regarding your accommodations—I've had a guest room in the west wing prepared. It's quiet there, and not many people come and go, so it's suitable for you to rest."

"There's one more thing."

David took a bronze token from his waist and handed it to Siron with both hands.

The token is about the size of a palm, with the Link family crest engraved on the front—a stag with its head held high, a six-pointed star resting between its antlers. The back is engraved with three deeply engraved ancient characters.

Elder's Decree.

"What is this?" Xilun didn't answer.

"Our family's internal access pass," David explained.

"Some areas of the manor have access restrictions, and outsiders cannot enter or leave at will. With this, you can move freely within the manor, including the library, training grounds, and dining hall."

He paused, then added, "It was my mother who agreed."

Xilun glanced at him.

This statement surprised him somewhat.

Risa—the woman who had utterly scorned him in the fight—was now willing to produce the Elder's Token?

This doesn't mean she changed her personality.

A more likely reason is that she understood better than anyone what her husband's condition meant.

If old man Link dies, the foundation of this viscount family will be severely shaken.

Although David is the eldest son, he has not yet officially inherited the title, and his Extraordinary Realm is only at the second level, which is not considered very strong in the noble circles of the Southern District.

Those cunning jackals will not let a leaderless viscount family go unpunished.

Therefore, Risa needs Celen.

Even though she loathed this young man she had once trampled underfoot, she had no choice but to swallow her anger.

this is the truth.

Xilun reached out and took the token.

It feels heavy in your hand, the bronze surface is polished smooth, but the engravings on the edges are still sharp and clear - this token has been used many times, but it is in excellent condition.

"What level of authority does the Elder's Decree represent in the Link family?" he asked.

"It's equivalent to the family elders being here in person." David's tone became more serious.

"There are only five pieces in the entire manor. My mother has two, the First Elder has one, the Second Elder has one, and the last one... originally belonged to my father."

In other words, what he was holding was Mr. Link's own token.

Siren put the token into his inner pocket.

"You just said we can go into the library?"

"Alright." David nodded. "I promised you—as long as you're willing to treat patients, you can access any occult texts within the family's authority. The elder's token can open the iron gate to the library."

"it is good."

Xilun didn't say anything more.

He picked up the tray and walked towards the door.

As he reached the threshold, he paused, turned back, and glanced at old man Link lying on the bed.

The light from the kerosene lamp fell on the withered face. The old man's eyelids trembled slightly, and his lips moved as if he were murmuring something in his dream.

The black "seed" buried beside his heart is now quietly lying dormant.

Like a hibernating insect with its eyes closed, it patiently and relentlessly gnaws at its host.

"I'll come back to check again tomorrow morning," Siron said.

"Okay—I'll take you there."

"Need not."

Xilun raised the token in his hand. "This is enough."

He pushed open the door and walked out of the bedroom.

The lights in the corridor were already on, with a wall lamp every five steps, illuminating the entire corridor in alternating light and shadow.

Xilun walked along the corridor toward the west wing.

His footsteps were steady and quiet, his old leather boots barely making a sound on the stone pavement—this was an instinct brought about by years of training, and even in unfamiliar environments, his body would automatically lower its presence.

As I passed the connecting corridor between the main building and the west wing, a middle-aged butler in a gray uniform walked towards me.

When the other party saw Xilun, he was taken aback for a moment, then his gaze fell on the token in Xilun's hand, and his expression immediately became respectful.

"Sir, your room is at the end of the west wing, the second one on the left. The room has been prepared, and hot water and towels are provided."

The butler bowed slightly. "If you need anything, just pull the bell cord by the bed."

Where is the cafeteria?

"Go through the courtyard to the first floor of the south wing," the butler pointed in a direction. "Dinner is served until nine o'clock."

Xilun nodded, said nothing more, and walked straight toward the west wing.

The guest rooms were small, but they were clean and tidy.

A single metal-framed bed, covered with a white cotton sheet. A desk, a chair, and a wardrobe.

The window was ajar, and the night breeze blew in from outside, carrying the bitter scent of oak leaves from the courtyard.

Xilen placed the tray on the desk and locked the door from the inside.

He first changed out of his dusty coat and folded the old trench coat, placing it on the back of the chair.

Iron spears and pistols are placed within easy reach of the bedside—it's a habit; when spending the night in any unfamiliar place, weapons must be within easy reach.

Then, he picked up the incense from the tray, broke off a small piece, and lit it with a match.

Wisps of pale blue smoke rose, and a refreshing fragrance filled the room.

Xilun sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

He practiced the Moon Memory Meditation Technique, gradually adjusting his mental state to a stable rhythm.

The "seed" inside Mr. Link kept resurfacing in his mind.

That's not active contamination.

Active contamination is invasive—like Elder Campbell's, with clear tentacles and threads that actively erode the host's spiritual core.

But the contents inside Mr. Link's body are different.

It's more like some kind of... parasite.

It quietly attaches itself near the heart, neither attacking nor spreading, but simply slowly drawing life force.

If Siron's echo chamber hadn't become more sensitive after treating Campbell, he might not have even noticed its existence.

How did this thing get into his body?

Was it implanted by someone, or did he come into contact with something he shouldn't have?

Thinking of this, Xilun opened his eyes.

He shook his head, putting those questions aside for the time being.

There's no point in thinking too much now. He will conduct another detailed investigation tomorrow morning and then make a judgment.

The smoke from the purifying incense slowly dissipated into the air.

Xilun unscrewed the stopper of the Tranquility Potion and took two small sips from the bottle opening.

The slightly bitter liquid slid down his throat, and a warm, soothing sensation spread from his stomach, gradually calming his nerves that had been tense all day.

There's a lot of information today.

The Ironblood Society's gathering, the existence of President Wolf, Lund's hints, David's request, Risa's submission, and the silent seed within old man Link.

These events piled up one after another, like chess pieces being placed one by one on a chessboard, each one influencing the subsequent course of events.

But Celen was not anxious.

He had long ago learned one thing—the more things there are and the more chaotic they become, the less he should rush.

Rushing things will lead to mistakes, and mistakes will give others something to use against you.

In the North District, the price of making a mistake is death.

He put the medicine back on the table and blew out the remaining incense.

Then he stood up.

My stomach made a soft, moderate noise.

He hasn't had a drop of water since this afternoon.

Xilun picked up the elder's token, put it in his pocket, opened the door, and walked towards the dining hall in the south wing.

The manor is much more lively at night than during the day.

All the gaslights in the courtyard were lit, casting a warm yellow glow over the gravel path and lawn.

Groups of two or three people moved about under the lights—there were patrolling guards, servants carrying trays, and a few young people in training clothes walking back from the direction of the training ground, wiping their sweat as they went.

Siren walked through the courtyard and along the corridor toward the south wing.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, his gaze was fixed straight ahead, and his expression was calm.

However, his reverberation chamber remained open at a low power level.

The sounds, the air, the temperature changes—all the information around him was within his perception range.

This is not deliberate vigilance.

It's instinct.

Having lived in the North District for so long, his body had long been accustomed to this constant state of alertness. Like a lone wolf trekking through the wilderness, even when drinking water, its ears would be perked up.

The cafeteria on the first floor of the south wing was brightly lit.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, a wave of hot food wafted out—the smoky aroma of roasted meat, the rich flavor of soup, and the wheaty scent of bread, all blending together to assault Xilun's sense of smell.

The cafeteria is quite spacious, with about twenty long wooden tables, and nearly half of them are occupied at the moment.

Most of them were guards from the manor and young family members, dressed in uniform dark gray uniforms or training clothes, sitting together in groups of three or five, eating and chatting.