Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

He stood up.

That's all for now.

He said, "Thank you for telling me this."

Daisy also stood up, hesitated for a moment, and whispered, "Silen, can you... save my father?"

Xilun walked to the door and stopped.

He didn't turn around, but calmly said, "I will do my best."

Then he stepped out of the room.

The maids on either side glanced at him discreetly, then quickly lowered their heads again.

Xiren walked down the corridor toward his room.

The footsteps were neither hurried nor slow, echoing through the empty corridor.

His mind was never idle.

Virus Number One—the virus that infected Susie four years ago—the virus number one within the clan leader.

Is there any connection between these three?

If Susie was infected with virus number one four years ago, or a homologous variant—

So, someone had already used this kind of thing within the Link family four years ago.

The target that time was an adopted daughter who had no right to inherit.

Why?

As Xilun walked along, he suddenly thought of something else.

At a gathering of the Ironblood Society, he vaguely heard someone mention a name—

Fowles.

Mr. Fowles of Daewoo Dojo.

The man was suspected of having dealings with Risa.

Because of this, Fowles and his wife had several arguments—this was no secret in the social circles of the South End.

Risa.

Fowles.

Virus number one.

Susie.

These fragments, like scattered jigsaw puzzle pieces, lay dotted in Xilun's mind, vaguely forming a blurry outline, but still missing a few crucial parts.

Silen made the name "Fowles" into his mind.

Once the treatment is over, he needs to find an opportunity to get to know this person.

Dusk had completely swallowed the manor.

The gas lamp at the end of the corridor flickered, casting a long shadow of Xilun.

He walked along the corridor where lights and darkness alternated, his breathing steady and his steps deliberate.

However, just as he was about to walk out of the west wing corridor and turn into the narrow path leading to the guest rooms—

A person walked in from outside the manor.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark uniform of the armed guards, with a long sword hanging at his waist.

Lovi Garin.

He stood at the entrance to the narrow road, facing Xilun.

The light shone from behind him, casting his face into shadow, revealing only the taut lines of his jaw and a pair of deep-set eyes.

He didn't seem to have just happened to be passing by.

It's more like they were waiting here specifically for this purpose.

"You came from the young lady's room."

Lo Wei's voice was as cold as a blade scraping against an iron plate.

It's not a question, it's a statement.

Xilun stopped and looked at him calmly.

"What do you need me for?"

Lowe did not answer immediately.

His gaze swept over Xiren from head to toe, as if examining something that shouldn't be there.

The silence lasted for a few seconds.

Then Lo Wei spoke up.

The voice wasn't loud, but every word sounded like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth.

"You murdered the clan chief."

Xilun's brow twitched slightly.

"I also need to be alone with the young lady."

Lowe took a step forward.

The light finally illuminated his face—a livid complexion, clenched jaw, and bulging veins on his temples.

"So you really are plotting to inherit the Link family's fortune."

Xilun was taken aback.

He wasn't angry.

I even find this logic somewhat... absurd.

Looking at Lowe's face, twisted with anger and jealousy, he suddenly understood.

What this person saw was not the truth, but a story he had imagined.

An outsider, wielding the Elder's Decree, ran rampant in the manor, first "poisoning" the clan leader, and then visiting the young lady's boudoir late at night.

In Loewy's world, all of this has only one purpose: to curry favor with the Link family and covet power and wealth.

Xiren almost laughed, but he didn't.

Because he saw the hand that Luo Wei was holding on the hilt of the sword—his knuckles were white and his joints were trembling slightly.

That wasn't acted out.

"If there's nothing else, I'm leaving now," Xilun said calmly.

He turned sideways to prepare to go around Rowe.

Lowe's arm suddenly blocked his way.

The air on the narrow road suddenly seemed to drop.

Lowe's arm was placed across Xiren's face like an iron gate.

His breathing became heavy, his chest heaving rapidly, and the muscles beneath his dark uniform were taut like a fully drawn bowstring.

"I already said that."

Luo Wei's voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, hoarse and low, carrying a hatred that had been suppressed to the extreme and finally broke down.

"For the Link family—"

He slowly drew the long sword from his waist.

Zheng—

The sound of a sword being drawn echoed in the corridor, sharp and cold.

The gas lamp's light slid across the sword, casting a chilling arc.

"Even if it means killing you, it's necessary."

Xilun looked at the sword.

It is the standard-issue sword of the Link family's armed guard—exquisitely forged, with a long blade and an extremely sharp edge.

A fine sword.

In the hands of a second-tier extraordinary being, it could be fatal.

Xilun's fingers, hanging by his side, twitched slightly.

He didn't carry the golden spear, or even the iron spear. His short gun and Soul-Suppressing Nails were concealed on his inner waist, but those were his last resort.

He didn't want to cause too much of a commotion at the Link family's estate.

At least, they didn't want to do it during the critical period of treating the clan leader.

"You shouldn't be doing this at this time," Celen said calmly.

His tone remained unchanged—neither tense nor angry, nor even slightly contemptuous.

It's like stating a fact.

But Lowe was no longer listening to anything.

Or rather, from the moment he drew his sword, he had already cut off all his escape routes.

"I've been in this family for twelve years."

Luo Wei's voice suddenly changed; it was no longer filled with gritted teeth and hatred, but with something deeper, almost melancholic.

"Twelve years."

He repeated the number.

"I started as a lowly member of a collateral branch, learning by the sword and the blade. I practiced standing on the training ground in the dead of winter, standing in the rain and hacking at the wooden stakes until my wrist dislocated. I was seriously injured seven times when I was at the first level, and I almost died three times during field missions."

His lips twitched slightly.

"I cultivated myself with all my might, and climbed to the top with all my might—not for any power, not for any wealth."

Under the light, his eyes reddened.

"I just want to... stand in a position worthy of her."

she was.

Without needing to say the name, Xilun knew who he was referring to.

Daisy.

Rowe gripped the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles cracking.

"Twelve years. It took me twelve years to climb from a nobody in a collateral branch to the position of deputy captain of the Martial Guard, a second-tier extraordinary being."

His voice was trembling.

"But what about you?"

He looked at Xilun, his eyes filled with a mixture of jealousy, resentment, pain—and a hint of vulnerability that was almost imperceptible.

"You received the Elder's Decree as soon as you arrived, you can freely enter and leave any part of the manor, you arrived and—"

He closed his eyes briefly.

"So I can knock on her door late at night."

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

He looked at Luo Wei's expression, at the complex emotions swirling in those bloodshot eyes.

This is not simply a bad person.

This is a person whose life has been tormented by twelve years of longing and inferiority.

He wasn't protecting the Link family—he was protecting the shadow in his own heart that he could never reach.

"You've got one thing wrong," Celen said.

"Shut up!"

With a low roar, Luo Wei shot out!

The speed of the second-tier extraordinary being exploded at this moment—

His figure transformed into a shadow, his longsword slashing diagonally upwards, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistling sound.

This sword strike was swift, ruthless, and precise—the blade tip aimed directly at Xilun's right shoulder.

If it's cleaved properly, it's enough to sever the collarbone.

But Celion is faster.

His body reacted the instant Rowe started moving—not by dodging, but by turning to the side.

He turned his body slightly and took a half-step to the side.

The blade whistled past the hem of his clothes, severing a strand of fabric that fell silently in the lamplight.

Simultaneously, Xilun stepped forward with his right foot.

The distance was compressed to its limit in an instant.

Lo Wei's pupils contracted sharply—

Instead of creating distance, the other party pressed closer!

At that moment, Xilun's left palm pressed against Luo Wei's right wrist, which was gripping the sword.

It feels cool to the touch.

Mysterious Yin Condenses the Meridians.

A chilling aura burst forth from Xilun's palm, spreading upwards along Luo Wei's wrist.

"hiss--!"

Luo Wei gasped.

A fine layer of white frost instantly appeared on the skin from his right wrist to his forearm. The muscle fibers stiffened rapidly under the erosion of the cold air, and his grip strength dropped sharply.

The hilt of the sword slipped between his fingers.

But Lowe's reaction was also quick.

After all, he was a second-tier martial artist who had honed his skills over twelve years—the instant his right hand went out of control, his left fist was already out, aimed straight at Xilun's temple.

This punch carried all his anger and despair, and a faint, extraordinary power shone from his knuckles, making the air hum under the pressure of the punch.

Xilun tilted his head slightly.

The force of the punch whistled past his temples, scattering a few stray hairs.

At the same time, Celen's right hand gripped Rowe's left elbow joint.

The Great Thunder Sound Breathing Technique suddenly activated at that instant.

A dull tremor traveled from his palm to Rowe's elbow, through the bone, and down to his shoulder blade—

Tiger and Leopard Thunder Sound.

It's not about exerting full force, but rather using only half of the force after precise control.

"Clang—"

Luo Wei's left arm went numb, and he lost all feeling in his arm from the elbow down.

An expression of disbelief crossed his face.

Not because of pain—but because of speed.

too fast.

From the moment he drew his sword until this moment, less than three seconds had passed.

Both of his arms had already lost their ability to fight.

One was frozen solid, and the other was paralyzed by the shock.

The other party—didn't even breathe abnormally.

Xilun loosened his grip and took half a step back.

Luo Wei's longsword finally slipped from his stiff fingers and crashed onto the floor tiles with a "clang".

The sound echoed in the empty corridor for a long time.

Lowe stumbled back two steps and his shoulder hit the wall.

He leaned against the wall, his chest heaving violently, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

The white frost on my right wrist is slowly fading, but the numbness still lingers in the bone crevice, like countless fine needles churning under the skin.

He raised his head and looked at Xiren in front of him.

Xilun stood under the lights, his expression so calm it was chilling.

His collar had a small tear, but other than that, there was no sign of distress on his body.

"you--"

Luo Wei's lips trembled slightly.

He wanted to say something, but his throat felt blocked.

Xilun looked at him.

There was no mockery, no pity—just a calm gaze.

"Your swordsmanship is quite good."

"Speed, angle, timing—the choice of the first strike was decisive," Xiren said. "Twelve years have not been in vain."

Luo Wei's expression froze.

He didn't know whether it was a compliment or an insult.

"But you have a fatal problem."

Xilun's gaze fell on the longsword on the ground.

"Your moves are entirely driven by emotions."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was crystal clear in the quiet corridor.

"Anger makes your first strike quick, but it also reveals your intentions for all your subsequent moves. When you throw your punch, your shoulder moves first—meaning your mind is more anxious than your body."

Luo Wei fell silent.

He looked down at his sword on the ground, at the gas lamp flame reflected on its blade.

"On a real battlefield," Siren said, "people who strike with emotion usually don't survive past the second strike."

He bent down and picked up the longsword.

He twirled the sword halfway in his hand, then presented it to Luo Wei with the hilt facing forward.

"Put your sword away."

Lo Wei stared at the sword that had been handed back to him, motionless.

A few seconds later, the corner of his mouth suddenly twitched—it was hard to tell whether it was a smile or some other more bitter expression.

He extended his still slightly trembling right hand and took the sword.

The moment his fingers touched the hilt of the sword, a sharp pain shot up from his frostbitten wrist, and he couldn't help but grit his teeth.

Xilun had already turned around.

He didn't look at Lowe again.

Footsteps resumed, unhurried, as they walked deeper into the corridor.

Behind me came the heavy breathing of Luo Wei—like a wounded beast licking its wounds in the darkness.

Xilun took a few steps and then stopped.

There was no turning back.

"She had pastries prepared in your guest room."

His voice was very soft.

"It's Daisy's, not for you—she had her maid ask you if you could give it to Susie on your way when you were passing by."

After he finished speaking, he continued walking forward.

The corridor behind me fell completely silent.

Only the flame of the gas lamp flickered gently inside the glass cover, emitting a faint hissing sound.

When Xilun returned to his room, the lights were already off.

The maidservant, clearly following the manor's custom, extinguished the gas lamps in the room while he was away, leaving only a small candlestick by the bedside.

The candlelight was short and its yellowish glow barely illuminated a small area.

The lights in Xilun were not on.

He walked to the window and pushed it open halfway.

The night breeze blew in from outside, carrying the crisp scent of dew-dampened grass on the lawn.

The distant oak forest stood silent in the moonlight, its branches and leaves resembling solidified ink marks.

He stood by the window, rearranging the information he had gathered that evening in his mind.

First line: Virus number one.

Those who had access to it included several elders, Risa, and David.

The scope is not large, but they are all key figures, and the suspicion of each of them cannot be easily ruled out.

The second storyline: Susie.

Four years ago, an "accidental infection"—the type of virus was unknown—caused a drastic change in personality, making him dull, indifferent, and unable to communicate with others.

Is this related to the characteristics of Virus One?

If someone used Virus One four years ago—was that person's target Susie? Or was Susie just a byproduct of an experiment?

The third storyline: Susie's mother.

A maid who can bake pastries.

He died of an illness by accident.