Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The back hall of the warehouse.

Balk stood by the window, looking in the direction where Xiren had left.

"Have you looked into that guy named Simon?"

A subordinate behind him whispered, "Out-of-towner, I haven't seen him at the ocean voyage docks before."

"Where's the aura?"

"Second tier, that's right."

"What kind of breathing technique are you practicing?"

"It's hard to say, they haven't made enough moves."

Balk remained silent for a moment.

"Keep an eye on it, but don't alert them."

"Yes."

After his men left, Balk picked up the bronze compass on the table.

The blue crystal in the center of the compass trembled slightly, and the pointer slowly drifted toward the depths of the Greywater River.

Balk's gaze gradually warmed.

Little Green Dragon.

A unique species that controls water.

Once he kills it and obtains the Water Soul Remains, along with the materials the Whisper Choir promised to provide, he'll be just one step away from the facilitating potion needed for the third tier.

Over the years, he has worked at the ocean-going docks, transporting goods for others, killing for others, and wiping away bloodstains for others.

Everyone thought he was successful.

But he knew it himself.

Second order is second order.

In the eyes of truly important people, it is still just a useful knife.

The knife will rust.

The knife will break.

The knife will also be discarded.

He didn't want to make knives anymore.

He wants to be the one wielding the knife.

As for those few helpers—

Balk put the compass back in the box.

If they know what's good for them, they can take the medicine and leave; he wouldn't mind letting them come back alive.

If you don't know what's good for you.

The Greywater River is so deep.

If a few more bodies are buried, who will be able to find them?

"What about Wang Huzi's side?"

He suddenly asked.

A short man emerged from the corner.

"The pirates have indeed entered the inner bay. They seem to have heard about Little Azure Dragon as well."

Balk's face darkened.

"That old dog has a good nose."

The shorter man cautiously asked, "Should we make our move now?"

Balk shook his head.

"The Ironscale still needs final inspection. Without that ship, entering the inner bay would be suicide."

He paused.

"Keep a close eye on Wang Huzi."

"Don't let him succeed first."

"clear."

The room fell silent again.

Balk sat back in his chair, his fingertips gently stroking the edge of the wooden box.

Three days.

Just wait three more days.

Fate will bow down to him.

Three days later.

Before dawn, the ocean-going terminal was already half-shrouded in fog.

The Greywater River, like a giant snake that has been dead for many years, lies across the outside of the dock, its scales rotting, yet its belly still teeming with undercurrents.

Pier No. 3 is more remote than other places.

The pier has been in disrepair for years, and the wooden planks groan when you step on them.

Several small cargo ships were moored nearby, their hulls painted with mottled paint and their mooring lines covered with salt frost.

When Celen arrived, Vera was already there.

She sat on an overturned wooden barrel, her head bowed as she sharpened her axe.

The stone scraped against the axe blade, making a rustling sound.

Today she wore a dark blue short jacket with the cuffs tucked in, her trousers tucked into her boots, and a rolled-up leather breathing bag hanging from her back.

It's clear that she's indeed preparing to go into the water.

Hack stood at the end of the pier smoking.

The burly figure was obscured by the mist, resembling a thick, dark wooden stake.

He carried a heavy hook axe on his shoulder, the back of which was shaped like an anchor hook, making it ideal for hooking targets on a ship and for pulling out human bones.

Mason arrived last.

His cough was worse than it had been three days ago, and his face was as pale as a piece of paper that had been soaked in water.

But his eyes were cold.

He was so cold he didn't seem like a patient.

Xilun glanced at him, then looked away.

Everyone has secrets.

Especially those who are willing to hunt water beasts for three bottles of cleansing potion.

Vera looked up at Xiren.

"Simon?"

"Um."

"Which ship did you work on before?"

"The Black Crow".

This is one of the identities Rhodes is preparing for.

An escort vessel that sank three years ago off the coast of Nangang.

The highest number of deaths occurred there.

It is also the most difficult to investigate.

Vera paused for a moment while holding the whetstone.

"The Black Crow sank terribly."

"Yes."

"You survived?"

"Good luck."

"Is there anyone else?"

Xilun thought for a moment: "I have a friend who could have survived, but he died in a shipwreck because of a brat. I'll get that life back sooner or later!"

Vera looked at him and suddenly smiled.

Her smile accentuated the scar on her face, making her look somewhat fierce.

"At sea, good luck is more valuable than strength."

Xilun did not respond.

Hack exhaled smoke.

"Have you two finished chatting? If Balk doesn't come soon, it'll be completely daylight."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than footsteps echoed through the fog.

Balk came with six men.

Today he was wearing a black waterproof long coat, with a short knife and two short guns hanging at his waist, and dark brown leather gloves on his hands.

Of the six, four were first-tier extraordinary individuals responsible for moving equipment; the other two possessed a calm demeanor and, although not yet second-tier, were clearly well-trained.

"Everyone arrived right on time."

"Balk said with a smile."

Huck snorted.

"Where's the medicine?"

Balk raised his hand.

His men behind him opened a leather suitcase.

Twelve bottles of dust-removing medicine were neatly arranged in a soft cloth.

Three more bottles than agreed.

"Payment will be made on the spot upon successful completion."

Mason asked hoarsely, "And failure?"

"If we fail, what's the point of talking about the potion?"

Balk closed the suitcase.

"However, if anyone wants to quit halfway through, they can leave now."

Nobody moved.

Balk nodded in satisfaction.

He turned and walked towards the end of the pier.

From the depths of the fog, the outline of a ship gradually came into view.

Ironscale.

It is larger than Xilun had imagined.

The ship was not particularly long, but it was extremely wide and had a deep draft. Its outer side was covered with a layer of dark blue metallic scales.

The scales overlapped one another, stretching from bow to stern, gleaming coldly in the mist.

Instead of a regular ram, the bow of the ship featured a half-open iron beast's mouth.

Curved steel teeth extend from both sides of the beast's mouth, as if specifically designed to bite underwater monsters.

Several short masts stood on the deck, their sails folded up, and the main power seemed to come from the steam engines inside the cabin.

The chimney is very short.

There was no black smoke.

This means that its power system has undergone special treatment.

Balk stood by the ship and looked back at the crowd.

"Get on the ship."

Xilun stepped onto the gangway.

As soon as my feet touched the deck, I felt a slight vibration.

It's not ordinary mechanical vibration.

It was more like some kind of slumbering breath, slowly rising and falling deep within the ship's hull.

Treasure ship.

This title is not an exaggeration.

The Ironscale was indeed a large and extraordinary artifact.

No wonder Balk needed a second-tier extraordinary being to control him.

It's unlikely that ordinary crew members could even awaken its true abilities.

There were no extra sailors on board.

Apart from Balk and four other invitees, only two silent boatmen were in charge of the basic machinery.

The rest of the people carried the supplies onto the deck and then quickly left.

The gangway was retracted.

The cable was untied.

The Iron Scale, like an iron beast awakening from the mud, slowly departed from the dock.

The mist over the Greywater River swallowed up the figures of people on the banks.

Balk led everyone into the cabin.

It was colder inside the cabin than outside.

The walls on both sides were also covered with metal scales, and oil lamps were embedded in the grooves. When the light flickered, the whole passage looked like the throat of some kind of monster.

Xilun walked through two tightly closed iron gates.

There is a lock on the door.

It's very thick.

Tiny runes are engraved on the edge of the keyhole.

Hack stopped in his tracks.

"What's inside?"

Balk didn't even look at him.

"The core artifacts on the ship."

"Can't I watch it?"

"cannot."

Hack grinned.

"Aren't you afraid we'll get greedy?"

Balk finally turned back.

His eyes were calm.

"This ship is the treasure of the ocean-going port, not mine. If you are truly interested, you can discuss the matter with the port yourself when you return."

Hack's smile faded slightly.

The Ocean Terminal Council is not run by one person.

It was a group of people.

A group of people who control the lives and deaths of ships, warehouses, thugs, smuggling lines, and dockworkers.

Provoking Balk might not necessarily lead to death.

If you offend the council, your corpse will most likely be chopped up and fed to the fish.

Vera said calmly, "Let's get down to business."

Balk ignored Hack.

He pushed open the round iron gate at the end of the passage.

Behind the door is the central control room.

The hall wasn't large.

In the center stands a circular iron platform, with a bronze compass embedded in it, and five control positions around it.

Each control position has a metal pole about half a person's height in front of it, with a handle of different shapes at the top.

Three large hunting forks were hanging on the left wall.

The end of the hunting fork was connected to a black chain that went all the way down into the floor.

On the right is a giant folded net, its wires gleaming with a silvery-gray sheen, the composition of which is unknown.

Further away, there was a short, stubby cannon.

The muzzle is not round, but resembles an open flower petal, with fine holes inside.

Balk pointed in various directions.

"A hunting fork, used to pin a target down."

"A binding net, used to prevent it from diving."

"A water cannon can disrupt the surrounding water flow in a short period of time."

"But these things all require a second-tier extraordinary being to use their aura as a guide."

He walked to the edge of the round platform and pressed the mechanism.

Five dark blue lines lit up along the edge of the iron platform.

"One place for everyone."

"Infuse your aura into the grip, and the Ironscale will automatically assign it to the corresponding artifact."

"Don't move around, don't try to take control, otherwise the object will backfire and no one can save you."

Mason looked at the metal poles.

"You seem to know quite a lot."

"I've been preparing for this for a long time."

"Balk said frankly."

"For your brother?"

Mason asked.

Balk turned and glanced at him.

"To survive."

This statement silenced the control room for a moment.

Balk did not elaborate further.

But Xilun could tell that, for that instant, he wasn't acting.

Even the top figure at the ocean-going terminal has his own fears.

Perhaps it came from a secret choir.

Perhaps it comes from the third-order threshold.

Perhaps it stems from an approaching deadline.

He wasn't simply taking risks out of greed.

Greed is just something that floats on the surface of the water.

Those who truly sink to the bottom are often filled with resentment.

Balk opened a wooden box.

There were four gray-white earplugs inside.

"Put it on. The little green dragon's cry is very shrill and will disturb your mind."

Huck picked one up and smelled it.

"Is it poisonous?"

Balk sneered.

"If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need to go through all this trouble."

Huck stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing and put the earplugs in his ears.

I like what you said.

Vera and Mason each took one.

Finally, Xilun picked up the earplugs.

The material is like some kind of cartilage, and it feels slightly cool to the touch.

He didn't immediately put the earring on tightly; he just pressed it lightly against his ear to preserve a sliver of hearing.

The reverberation chamber is activated at low power.

The sounds from inside the ship immediately unfolded in his consciousness.

The low hum of the steam engine.

The soft sound of water lapping against metal scales.

Balk's heart was beating slightly faster.

Vera's breathing was steady.

Hack's breath was thick, like coal piled up in a furnace.

Mason's lungs made an unusual murmur, with each deep breath accompanied by a faint tearing sound.

He was quite ill.

But some force within the body is forcibly suppressing the lesions.

Xilun's eyes remained fixed.

Balk began assigning positions.

He stood in the central control position.

Vera was in charge of the port side hunting fork.

Hack was in charge of the starboard hunting fork.

Mason was in charge of the animal-binding net.

Xilun was assigned to the position of the water cannon.

This position is the furthest from the main control unit.

It's also closest to the exit.

It seems unimportant.

In fact, the water cannon can disrupt the water flow, which is likely to be key to the water-controlling alien species.

Was Balk placing him here a test, or was there another plan?

Xilen gripped the metal handle.

A cool sensation seeped into my palm.

He didn't breathe in all his energy.

It released only a wisp of disguised cold breath.

The blue patterns on the iron platform gleamed softly.

A low, metallic clicking sound came from the direction of the water cannon.

Balk glanced at him.

"good."

Xilun's voice was low and hoarse.

"When will you arrive?"

Balk looked down at the compass.

The blue crystal in the center of the compass swayed gently.

The pointer is pointing towards the confluence of the upper reaches of the Greywater River and the old estuary.

"Three hours downstream."

he said.

"If that beast hadn't changed locations, we would have run into him before noon."

The Ironscale continued its journey.

At first, the river was relatively calm.

The mist flowed along the ship's hull, and the occasional whistle of another vessel could be heard in the distance.

No one spoke in the control room.

There were only the sounds of machinery and water.

Half an hour later, Hack couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hey, Vera, you've killed water beasts before?"

Vera didn't look up.

"Killed."

How big?

"Smarter than you."

Huck paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"That's quite a lot."

Mason coughed twice.

"The most troublesome thing about aquatic beasts is not their strength, but their environment. Being in the water is like having an extra pair of eyes, an extra layer of armor, and an extra escape route."

Balk nodded.

"Therefore, we cannot let the little green dragon dive down."

He pointed to a rough map of waterways next to the compass.

"It typically approaches from about 30 feet below the ship's hull, creating a cross current to tilt the vessel, and then strikes its weakest point. Ordinary ships can't withstand that a second strike."

Vera asked, "Can the Ironscale hold out?"

"It can hold out three times."

"And after that?"

"Then let's see what you all can do."

Balk spoke frankly.

Hack licked his teeth.

"You're not pretending, are you?"

"Pretending to be useless."

"That beast won't stick its head out just because I talk a good game," Balk said.

Siren listened to their conversation.

Balk is creating an atmosphere.

It is truly dangerous.

The preparation was genuine.

He mentioned some of the risks, making everyone feel that he had at least not completely concealed them.

But he never said the most crucial thing.

Why did the little green dragon appear in the Greywater River?

What exactly are its extraordinary relics?

What does Balk want to do with that thing?

And—the true core capabilities of the Ironscale.

These are the knives hidden under the card table.

Another hour passed.

The fog gradually dissipated.

The banks of the Greywater River have become desolate.

The docks and warehouses were left far behind, replaced by vast wetlands, abandoned lighthouses, toppled wooden stakes, and half-submerged old shipwrecks.

The sky began to darken.

The clouds pressed in from the sea, their color like lead.

The wind is getting cold.

The water surface is no longer flat.

Shrinking ripples spread from afar, striking the Ironscale ship with a series of soft, dense sounds.

Xilun looked out the porthole.

The water was darker than near the dock.

Occasionally, white foam rises up, only to quickly burst.

Balk looked at the compass, his brow furrowed slightly.

"It moved."

All eyes turned to that direction at the same time.

The pointer began to tremble slightly.

It doesn't point to a stable location.

Instead, it sways back and forth within a small area.

Mason's voice was hoarse.

"Has it spotted us?"

"uncertain."

"It's probably just water flow interference," Balk said.

The voice just fell.

Boom—

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The raindrops started falling without warning.

First, a few sparse drops.

It quickly became a dense, crowded mass.

Raindrops pelted the deck, portholes, and metal slabs, rolling down like countless tiny steel balls.