Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

"Prepare to welcome them."

West End Road.

Rhodes asked, "Specifications?"

"The highest standard."

Xilun said calmly, "The more courteous you are, the less likely he is to turn hostile immediately."

"What if he continues to make things difficult?"

Xilun looked at the water beast's heart on the table.

Within the pale blue liquid, the heart slowly contracted.

"Then let him make things difficult for us."

Rod was slightly taken aback.

Xilun carefully put the recipe away again, his tone calm.

"When someone deliberately seeks trouble, their true intentions are most likely to be exposed."

"We are not in a hurry to retaliate."

"First, see what he wants."

Rhodes lowered his head.

"clear."

Xilun stood up and walked to the window.

The North District awakens after the rain, with distant chimneys, railway tracks, warehouses, and dirty streets forming a gray-black outline.

The Brotherhood patrol marched past the street corner, their steps orderly, gun slung over their shoulders—a stark contrast to the chaotic gang of six months ago.

This is his territory.

It wasn't awarded by the Tusol family.

It wasn't given by the armed insurgent party.

He earned it with every shot and every punch, and nurtured it little by little with money, rules, and blood.

Albert wanted to test him.

can.

But tests are never one-way.

Xiren also wanted to see if the new CEO was truly worthy of sitting in Heinz's former position.

Three days is a very short time.

Before the chaos at the ocean pier had fully subsided and news of Balker's disappearance had even begun to spread from Old Mill Street, the stone steps in front of the Brotherhood mansion in the North District had already been scrubbed clean.

New gas lamps have been installed in the lobby.

Two additional teams of sentries, both visible and concealed, were added outside the courtyard wall.

The iron stakes in the training shed in the backyard were rearranged, the armory was inventoried three times, and everything that could be placed on the table—the south warehouse, the old freight line, the patrol team, the pension ledger, the medicine warehouse—was organized by Rod into several thick volumes of documents.

Xilun didn't personally handle these matters.

He spent most of his time in the meditation room.

The talent for water separation requires adaptation.

In the past few days, he had three large water vats brought in and placed in the corner of the training shed.

The water jar was very ordinary, made of coarse pottery, with small chips along the edge.

When Xilun stood in front of the water tank and raised his hand, the water in the tank would slightly sink, as if it were being pressed down by an invisible palm.

The first time, he could only make a shallow mark on the water's surface.

The second time, the watermark deepened, briefly revealing the bottom of the tank.

By the morning of the third day, the water in the three water tanks had split to both sides at the same time, creating three straight gaps in the middle, which lasted for a full seven breaths.

Kusso stood to the side, staring wide-eyed.

"Young Master, is this also a breathing technique?"

Xilun withdrew his hand.

The water surface closed up, making a soft splashing sound.

"Not really."

Kusso scratched his head and wisely refrained from asking any further questions.

The young master has too many secrets.

Some questions you can ask, and some you can't.

All he needs to know is that the stronger the young master is, the more stable the Brotherhood will be.

"Where are Albert's men?"

"Just past the North Bridge."

Kusso immediately replied, "Nine people in total, three carriages and two wagons. They were guarded in front and behind, and were carrying the flag of the Armed Insurgent Party."

Xilen picked up a towel and wiped her hands.

"Where's Rhodes?"

"In the front hall."

Xilun nodded, changed into a dark suit, and draped a well-tailored black trench coat over it.

Her short, golden hair was neatly combed, and instead of a golden spear at her waist, she concealed a short gun and a soul-suppressing nail inside her clothing.

Today is not the day we go to war.

At least not on the surface.

When he walked out of the training shed, the sky over the north area was overcast, and the wind smelled of coal smoke.

The sound of a carriage stopping could soon be heard outside the mansion gate.

The wheels rolled over the gravel, the horses snorted, and their iron boots pounded the ground.

Rhodes stood at the bottom of the steps, leading a group of Brotherhood core members to greet him.

The door of the carriage at the very front opened.

The first one to get off was a short-haired woman.

She was in her early thirties, wearing a long gray coat, with sharp eyes and calluses on her knuckles from holding a gun for a long time.

After getting out of the car, she did not speak immediately, but quickly scanned the entrance, windows, eaves, and hidden sentry positions on the street corner.

He was a professional soldier.

Xilun glanced out the second-floor window and gave his judgment.

The second one to come down was a bearded man.

He was burly, carrying a long leather suitcase on his back, his boots were covered in mud, and he had a nonchalant smile on his face.

But he landed each step steadily, always maintaining an angle from the short-haired woman that allowed them to support each other.

Finally, a hand wearing a black glove emerged from the third carriage.

Albert Casares got off the bus.

He was younger than Xilen had imagined.

He was thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, with his black hair neatly combed back, thin cheeks, high nose bridge, and light brown eyes that were indifferent yet clear-headed.

He was wearing a gray-black military-style long coat with no extra decorations on the chest except for a dark red gear badge.

He's not the kind of person who immediately reveals his sharp edge.

On the contrary, he was very restrained.

After getting off the car, he first looked up at the Brotherhood's residence, then at the people lined up neatly in front of the gate. His eyes showed neither contempt nor admiration, as if he were assessing whether a tool was suitable for him.

Rhodes stepped forward and bowed.

"Chief Casares, welcome to the North District Brotherhood. The young master is waiting in the reception room."

Albert looked at Rod.

"You're Rhodes?"

"Yes."

"Sillen trusts you a lot."

This statement doesn't convey any praise or criticism.

Rhodes smiled and said, "It is my honor to share the Governor's burdens."

Albert said nothing more and stepped into the mansion.

However, not all of his entourage followed.

The short-haired woman and three others remained outside, while the bearded man and two other guards followed them inside. Two trucks still had their black tarpaulins on, their contents unknown.

Siren met Albert in the reception room.

He did not sit in the main seat, but stood by the fireplace, and reached out his hand after the other person entered.

"President Casares, I've long admired you."

Albert took his hand.

Their hands touched briefly before separating.

There was no underhanded competition.

There was no sign of a breath probing.

On the surface, their politeness was as courteous as that of two ordinary business partners meeting for the first time.

Albert looked at Siren's face.

"The Golden Knight is younger than the intelligence reports suggest."

"The same applies to the chief executive."

"Youth is not an advantage," Albert said. "Many young people die young because they mistake luck for ability."

Rhodes's eyes darkened slightly.

The air in the reception room suddenly felt a bit colder.

Xilun remained unmoved.

"Only those who survive are qualified to distinguish between the two."

Albert smiled slightly.

"interesting."

The two sat down.

The maid served coffee and tea, then quietly withdrew.

Albert did not touch the cup.

"I don't like wasting time. My predecessor, Heinz, spoke highly of you, believing the Brotherhood to be one of the most deserving local organizations to support in the North. I respect his judgment, but I will not unconditionally inherit it."

Xilun nodded.

"Reasonable."

Albert stared at him.

He had expected Xilen to offer an explanation, or at least say something polite.

But Xilun only gave two words.

This rendered Albert's first layer of pressure ineffective.

He remained calm and continued, "The armed insurgents invest resources and expect a return. Weapons, intelligence, medicine, channels, political cover—none of these are free. The Brotherhood has grown rapidly in the past six months, and I need to confirm whether you are still under my control."

"Controllable range?"

"Yes."

Albert leaned forward slightly. "I won't become arrogant because of a little territory, I won't forget who the real big picture is just because I killed a few second-tier players, I won't hold back at crucial moments, and I certainly won't use our resources to fuel my own ambitions."

That's a very strong statement.

Rhodes stood behind Xiren, his eyes filled with even deeper coldness.

Xilun picked up his coffee and took a sip.

"The executive is worried that the Brotherhood will get out of control."

Albert said, "I am worried about all unrestrained forces."

"Including me?"

"Especially you."

A brief silence.

The fireplace flames flickered gently.

Albert did not shy away from the question.

He came here to put pressure on Xilun.

But it wasn't based on personal likes or dislikes.

At least not in his own view.

The Armed Riot Party operated covertly in various parts of Victoria for many years, relying not on high-stakes gambling, but on discipline, sacrifice, and a series of enforceable orders.

Albert viewed Heinz's style of emphasizing sentiment and personal judgment as too loose.

People like Siron are even more dangerous.

He has a reputation, power, territory, independent sources of income, and knows how to be patient.

If such people are not suppressed as soon as possible, they will not become partners in the future, but another center.

Albert does not need a new center.

What he needs is a knife that can carry out orders.

"How does the CEO plan to review it?"

Xilun asked.

Albert raised his hand.

The bearded man took a document out of his suitcase and placed it on the table.

"The first item is the accounts."

Rod immediately presented the account books that had been prepared beforehand.

Albert did not examine it himself, but instead had the bearded man check it.

"The second item is arming."

"Kuso is already waiting at the training ground."

The third point is organizational control.

Albert picked up the documents on the table and pushed them in front of Siren.

"Here is a list. Within three hours, I need to see detailed information on the twenty-seven people on the list, including their addresses, jobs, weaponry, family relationships, and records of any unusual behavior over the past month."

Rod frowned.

This is not a normal review.

If the people on the list were randomly selected, it would be almost impossible to compile such a detailed list in three hours. If he couldn't do it, Albert could accuse the Brotherhood of being in disarray at the grassroots level.

Xilun opened the list.

After glancing at it a few times, his eyes flickered slightly.

These 27 people were not randomly selected.

Among them were veteran members of the South Warehouse patrol team, new recruits from the old freight line, former remnants of the Black Sail unit who defected, and two informants from the outer perimeter of Rena's intelligence network.

Albert has inside information about the Brotherhood.

Incomplete.

But it's accurate enough.

Xilun closed the file.

"Can."

Rod immediately took the list and left.

Albert looked at Siren.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I learned these names?"

"If the leader wants to speak, he will naturally do so."

"What if someone close to you passes information to me?"

Xilun smiled.

"That means the Chief Executive has good intelligence capabilities."

Albert finally picked up his coffee.

He found that Xilen was more difficult to deal with than the files.

It's not about being tough.

It's not weakness.

Rather, it is a kind of stability that leaves one at a loss for how to approach it.

It's like a very deep well. If you throw a stone into it, you won't hear an echo, so you won't know how deep it really is.

Half an hour later, the group headed to the training ground.

Kusso and forty Brotherhood members lined up to wait.

They wore matching dark short jackets, carried guns on their shoulders, had batons at their waists, and their boots were spotless. Though far from being a regular army, they already possessed the rudiments of a local armed force.

Albert stood at the edge of the platform, his gaze sweeping across the area.

"shooting."

Kusso raised his hand.

Bang bang bang!

Twenty gunmen fired in two rows, and the target fifty paces away exploded into wood chips.

"Reload."

The movements were fairly synchronized.

"Melee combat."

Another twenty men stepped forward and practiced street fighting formations with sticks, short knives, and round shields.

The bearded man nodded in agreement.

The short-haired woman also entered the training field at some point, stood to the side with her arms crossed, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes.

She has seen many local gangs.

Most so-called armed groups are nothing more than a bunch of thugs with guns. The Brotherhood members are far from elite, but at least they know how to obey and cooperate.

Albert, however, did not comment.

He looked at Kusso.

"Are you the armed forces captain?"

Kusso replied gruffly, "Yes."

"Second-order?"

Not yet.

Albert said calmly, "A person who hasn't even reached the second tier, leading forty armed men. How long can you hold out against a genuine second-tier attack?"

Kusso's face darkened.

That was a harsh remark.

But it's not entirely without reason.

He gritted his teeth, "Hold on until the young master arrives."

Albert smiled.

"In other words, the Brotherhood's armed forces are entirely dependent on Siron himself."

The atmosphere on the training field froze.

Xilun stood to the side without saying a word.

Albert always finds a problem when he's looking for one.

This is the skill of a manager, and also the skill of a troublemaker.

"The fourth item."

Albert suddenly said, "Emergency mission execution capability."

Rod just happened to walk back quickly from a distance, holding the organized documents in his hand.

Albert didn't even glance at it.

He pointed to the two trucks outside the door.

The black cloth was lifted.

More than a dozen wooden crates were visible inside the carriage, along with three men whose hands were tied and who were blindfolded.

One of them was wounded, his clothes were soaked with blood, and he was breathing weakly.

Xilun narrowed his eyes slightly.

Albert calmly stated, "Last night, one of our secret liaison points was attacked by members of the Black Death Cult's outer circle. Three prisoners and two boxes of contaminant certificates need to be temporarily moved. As per the review requirements, the Brotherhood must deliver the items to the rendezvous point near St. Helens Square in the South District by midnight tonight."

Rhodes's expression changed completely.

South District.

The Black Death Cult.

Pollutant certificate.

Midnight tonight.

This is not a review at all.

This is like throwing a piece of bloody flesh to the Brotherhood and sending them through the wolves.

Siren looked at Albert.

What if I refuse?

Albert said calmly, "Then I will determine that the Brotherhood lacks the ability to carry out critical missions, suspend all support resources, and reassess the cooperative relationship."

"What if something happens on the road?"

"That means you're not capable enough."

"What if this is a trap?"

"Many tasks are traps."

Albert's tone remained unchanged: "The only difference is that some people can accomplish it, while others only complain."

On the training field, the Brotherhood members were seething with anger.

Kusso clenched his fists so tightly they cracked.

Rhodes said in a deep voice, "Chief, the Brotherhood is not a direct subordinate force of the Armed Insurgent Party. For such a high-risk mission, intelligence, routes, and support should at least be coordinated in advance."

Albert looked at Rod.

"So I'm coordinating it now."

He then looked at Xilun.

"Golden Knight, what do you say?"