Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun lowered his eyes and cut the venison on the plate.

The meat was roasted perfectly, with a crispy outer layer and a slightly pinkish interior.

The clashes at the aristocratic dining table are much slower than street brawls.

But sometimes it comes closer to murder.

The white-haired elderly man represents a segment of the elders who waver.

He rushed back to the Autumn Hunt to test whether Oin was ready to bypass the patriarch's authority.

Oin's answer was clear.

Family continuity is more important than tradition.

In other words, whoever blocks his definition of "continuity" is a tradition that can be discarded.

Oro suddenly spoke up: "Mr. Xilun, what do you think of the autumn hunt?"

All eyes turned to them again.

This question is abrupt and impolite.

O'In did not stop it.

He simply put down his spoon, like a gentle father indulging his son's small curiosity to the guest.

Xilun wiped the corner of his lips.

"I have never participated in the noble autumn hunt."

Oro laughed and said, "You can guess."

"The prey will die."

Oro was taken aback.

Siren continued, "The hounds will get hurt. The audience will applaud. Finally, someone will hang the animal's head on the wall to tell those who come after that it was a respectable tradition."

The banquet hall fell silent.

The old knight looked at Xilun, and for the first time, his eyes showed a change.

Oin then picked up his wine glass and swirled it gently.

"That's a very interesting point."

"I'm just speaking from a commoner's perspective," Siren said. "Please forgive me if I'm wrong."

"No," Oin smiled. "Sometimes, ordinary people are more accurate in their judgment."

The white-haired old man looked unwell.

Oro, however, seemed to be deep in thought.

He originally just wanted to test whether Xilun would express his opinion on Qiu Shou, whether he would side with Austin, or whether he would deliberately try to please his father.

But Xilun's answer was like a layer of fog.

They mentioned the prey, but didn't say who the prey was.

It mentions hunting dogs, but doesn't say who released them.

It mentions animal heads, but doesn't specify whether what's hanging on the wall is a wild beast or a human.

Oro suddenly understood why his father had said that this person valued personal gain over principles.

Because he wouldn't simply hand over the hilt of his sword for nothing, not even with a seemingly casual reply at a banquet.

After the main course was cleared away, servants brought in dessert and mulled wine.

Oin finally turned the topic to Xilun.

"I heard you've been collecting materials for some medicines lately."

Celen did not deny it.

"There are many pollution incidents in the northern area, and the pesticides are consumed quickly."

Oin laughed and said, "Ordinary potions don't need lunar phase silver marrow."

Someone at the long table looked up.

Some people pretended not to hear.

Oro put down his wine glass.

Xilun gently stroked the glass with his fingertips.

finally come.

O'In did not go around to the study after the banquet, nor did he mention it privately.

He stated the name of the lunar phase silver marrow directly on the table.

This is not recklessness.

It's about displaying chips.

It was also meant for those who were wavering in the audience.

He O'In has something that can get Xilen to the negotiating table.

"This material is indeed rare," Siren said.

"It's rare to see even many viscount families unable to afford it," Oin said, looking at him. "Even if they could afford it, they wouldn't give it up easily."

"Things that are kept hidden away will always be kept until the right price."

"So, Mr. Celen, what price do you think is appropriate?"

The banquet hall became even quieter.

The firewood in the fireplace was burning, making a slight popping sound.

Xilun did not answer immediately.

He could feel the old knight's gaze on his shoulders and back, Oro's gaze on his face, and the white-haired old man's gaze like a probing needle, moving back and forth between him and Oin.

This is a trap.

If Westminster's offer is too low, it would appear ignorant.

If the price is too high, it will seem like you're in a hurry.

Asking Oin if he actually has the material would reveal his own desire for it.

So he simply said calmly, "The price depends on whether the goods are genuine."

A hint of admiration flashed in Oin's eyes.

"Caution is a good habit."

He raised his hand.

A servant brought over a small silver plate.

There were no materials on the silver plate, only half an old wax seal.

The wax seal is dark blue with a crescent moon pattern pressed in the center.

Xilun glanced at it.

He had never seen a real lunar phase silver marrow.

However, the information Rhodes collected mentioned that the wax seals on the treasury documents of the Old Viscount Brandon family in the West End were made of blue crescent moons.

O'In did not produce any materials.

Only the scraps that can prove the source of the information are presented.

This is more in line with his personality than simply taking the materials directly.

Leave room for maneuver.

Also leave a hook.

"The old Brandon family?" Siren asked.

"You really did check."

"If you want to buy something, you always need to know where it is."

O'Indone said, "Viscount Brandon died last year, and his three sons are fighting for the inheritance. The eldest son controls the main house, the second son controls the mine, and the youngest son took the key to his father's private vault. Lunar Silver Marrow was once found in that vault."

"once?"

"It was still there at least three years ago."

"Not necessarily now."

"So this is just news, not a deal."

Oin pushed the wax seal to the center of the table.

It was not passed on to Xilun.

"As for the other thing, the Sleeper's spinal fluid, I've also heard a bit about it."

Xilun's gaze sharpened slightly.

Oin noticed it.

He didn't continue immediately.

Instead, he slowly raised his glass.

"The Third Charity Hospital recently admitted a group of patients who had been in a prolonged coma. The medical records stated that they had encephalitis due to winter, but my people discovered that several of these patients were transferred to lower floors and never came out again."

A notification appeared in Lund's text message.

If the Third Charitable Hospital is mentioned, immediately back down by half a step.

Xilun remained seated, without retreating.

But his center of gravity shifted slightly backward by half an inch.

It's not fear.

It's about being able to get up at any time.

Oin saw this and his smile faded a little.

"It seems you also know that place isn't clean."

"Nobody in the North District thinks the South District is very clean."

“This isn’t neighborhood prejudice,” O’In said. “It’s the Black Death.”

Several guests in the banquet hall had a change of expression.

The white-haired old man said in a deep voice, "Oin, it's inappropriate to talk about cults in this kind of setting."

"Why is it inappropriate?" Oin looked at him. "They turned the poor into a breeding ground for disease in the South, attacked the escorts in the North, and corrupted my knights while clearing out strongholds in Tusol. Does the presence of silverware on the table negate the existence of a cult?"

The elderly man with white hair was speechless.

Oin returned to West London.

"Mr. Siren, I know you don't want to take sides."

He finally spoke more bluntly.

"Very good. Those who take sides too early usually die quickly. But the winter coming to Victoria will be very long, long enough that everyone will have to find a wall to block the wind."

"Is the Tusol family a wall?"

"At least it's sturdier than the wooden doors of the North District gangs."

Oin's voice remained gentle.

But those around the long table could tell the weight of the message.

Xilun smiled too.

"Even walls can collapse."

Oro's expression changed slightly.

The old knight's fingers gently touched the wine glass.

Oin, however, was not angry.

He looked at Xilun as if he were looking at a fine knife that hadn't yet been sold to anyone.

"So smart people don't stand under a wall," O'In said. "They stand where they can see the foundation."

Xilun did not respond.

Their eyes met across the candlelight.

At this moment, all the formalities in the banquet hall were stripped away.

Oin did not demand allegiance from Siren.

At least not tonight.

He simply told Xilen, "I know what you want, and I know where to find it."

Lunar phase silver marrow is in the old storeroom of Viscount Brandon's household.

The cerebrospinal fluid of the sleeper may be found in the lower floors of the Third Charity Hospital.

The former requires access to noble connections, while the latter requires a life-or-death struggle against the Black Death.

And what Oin possesses is precisely the power of the guards, intelligence, noble status, and the determination to seize power.

This is bait.

It also refers to pricing.

If Xilun responds too quickly, he will be tied to Tusol's chariot.

If we reject it completely, we will lose the clearest material clues we currently have.

He needs a third way.

"The news is very valuable," Siron said.

Oin put down his glass: "Merely valuable?"

"Until confirmed, it can only be a message."

Oro couldn't help but say, "Mr. Siren, Father gave these things not to hear any evaluation."

"I know."

Xilun looked at him.

"So I didn't pay."

Oro choked.

Someone on the other side of the long table almost burst out laughing, but immediately lowered their head to cover it up.

The smile in O'In's eyes became even more pronounced.

He liked that answer.

This shows that Xilun was not blinded by the materials.

Only those who can endure hunger are qualified to sit at a bigger gambling table.

The dinner continued.

The desserts that followed became rather dull, and the conversation returned to the war, the weather, and the autumn hunting schedule.

No one mentioned the materials anymore.

No one mentioned the Third Charity Hospital anymore.

But those two things are like two nails, driven into the hearts of everyone tonight.

As the banquet was drawing to a close, Oin invited Xiren to a side room for a glass of hot wine.

This is a true private conversation.

Xilun followed him out of the banquet hall.

The old knight did not come along, and Oro was left behind.

The side hall is much smaller than the banquet hall.

Outside the window is the manor's backyard, where withered branches gently tap against the glass in the wind.

O'In personally poured two glasses of wine.

"There were some things I couldn't say in detail at the dinner table earlier."

Xilun took the glass but still didn't drink it.

Oin didn't care.

"I can help you look into the Brandon family's Moon Phase Silver Marrow. If it's still available, I can even help you buy it."

"cost?"

"Maintain neutrality during the autumn hunt."

Xilun looked at him.

Oin said calmly, "Don't treat anyone, don't deliver messages for anyone, and don't use the Brotherhood to pass on messages for anyone. Whatever happens in the manor, pretend you know nothing."

The wind whistled past the window.

This statement finally revealed the true nature of the situation.

It's not about letting Xilun stand on O'In.

It's to prevent Siron from saving Oin's enemy.

In the midst of an impending coup, the best healers are sometimes more troublesome than a royal guard.

"This doesn't seem like neutrality," said Xilun.

“That’s neutrality,” O’In said, looking at him. “True neutrality isn’t about stopping everyone from taking action, but about not getting involved when others are doing something.”

"What if someone hands me a knife?"

"That depends on whether you think holding the knife is more valuable, or not holding it is more valuable."

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

"I need to verify the material leads."

"Can."

"I will not make any promises in advance regarding my actions during the autumn hunt."

Oin narrowed his eyes slightly.

The room fell silent.

A withered branch outside tapped against the window again.

Like a bone hitting glass.

Siren continued, "But I will not intervene in the Tusol family's internal affairs until someone takes action against me, the Brotherhood, or my teacher."

Oin looked at him.

This is not all he wanted.

But that is the maximum limit that Xilun can offer.

More importantly, Xilun also included Lund in the bottom line.

This bottom line is very clear.

Whoever touches it pays the price.

Oin smiled slowly.

"Can."

He raised his glass.

"So, at least we've reached some consensus tonight."

"What?"

"We both still have something to talk about."

Xilun also raised his glass.

The rim of the glass touched lightly.

The crisp sound echoed through the side hall.

No one is drinking.

But the deal has already taken shape.

Half an hour later, Siren left Tusol Manor.

Rhodes and the others were in the outer hall. When they saw him come out, they immediately went to greet him.

The outer door opened, and a cold wind rushed in.

As Xilun walked down the steps, he glanced back at the main building.

A figure flashed past behind a window on the third floor.

Like Oro.

Like that old knight.

Further away, a very low rumbling sound came from somewhere underground in the manor, drowned out by the sounds of boilers and wind.

Xilun did not stop.

After the carriage left the manor, Rhodes whispered, "Young Master, how was it?"

Xilun leaned against the carriage and closed his eyes.

"Oin may not have the materials."

Rod's heart tightened.

"So tonight's banquet is empty?"

“Not empty,” Xilun said. “He has clues, channels, and a reason to act.”

"Did he set conditions?"

"During the autumn hunt, I am instructed not to interfere in Tusol's internal affairs."

Rod was silent for a moment: "Young Master agreed?"

"I agreed halfway."

"What about your other half?"

Xilun opened his eyes.

Outside the car window, the winter fog of Victoria flowed along the glass.

The streetlights in the distance cast a dim yellow glow, like the eyes of a patient.

"The other half, it depends on who crosses the line first."

Rhodes asked no further questions.

The carriage crossed the noble's horse path and headed back towards the North District.

When they passed the pharmacy affiliated with the Third Charity Hospital halfway through the journey, the group had already dispersed.

The pharmacy door was closed.

However, a faint line of black liquid was slowly dripping down the stone steps from under the door crack.

Xilun suddenly raised his hand.

"parking."

The coachman immediately reined in the horse.

Rod cautiously lifted the curtain.

Xilun did not get off the bus.

He just stared at the black liquid.

His innate ability to separate water allows him to sense subtle dampness within it.

cold.

stick.

There's also a familiar sweet and savory flavor.

It looks very similar to the black liquid seeping from the relics in the wooden box in the Old St. Mary's Bell Tower.

The curtains on the second floor of the pharmacy moved slightly.

Someone is watching him.

Xilun looked up.

Behind that window, a face wearing a white mask was vaguely visible.

The gaslight flickered the next moment.

There was no one behind the window.

Rhodes whispered, "The Black Death Cult?"

"may be."

"Should we investigate?"

Xilun lowered the carriage curtain.

"Not tonight."

The wheels started turning again.

The black liquid slowly spread across the stone steps, like a closed eye, gradually swallowed by the night.

Siren retreated back into the shadows.

Tusor's material line, the Black Death Cult's hospital line, and Lund's father's old bloodline line.

The three lines have become tangled together.

He can't rush things now.

An impatient person will first expose their throat.

As the carriage entered the northern district, the sound of bells suddenly came from afar.

It is not the old St. Mary's Bell Tower.

Further away, lower down.

It seemed to be coming from the damp underground of the southern district.

Xilun raised his right hand and glanced at his wrist.

The dark marks hidden by the cuffs were faintly burning.

He gently pressed down on his cuffs.

His eyes were calm to the point of being cold in the darkness.

"Return to the residence."

The driver cracked his whip.

Horse hooves shattered the thin ice.

In the depths of winter, Victoria slowly closed her mouth in the fog.