Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The car door closed.

The carriage slowly drove away from the mansion.

The raindrops tapped softly on the car roof.

Siren sat back in the shadows, his fingers resting on his knees, his eyes closed as he relaxed.

He didn't look out the window at the stalkers.

It doesn't matter whether you watch it or not.

The path we're walking today is meant to be shown to them.

The carriage traveled through the streets of the North District towards the old printing factory.

Several shadows silently followed behind.

Further away, a gray-clad scout from the Tusol family pulled his hat brim down low, turned, and quickly disappeared into the rain and mist.

The message will be delivered to O'In's desk soon.

Siron went to the armed insurgent party.

This statement alone is enough to keep many people awake at night.

The old printing factory's exterior walls are mottled, and the red bricks have turned dark from being soaked by rainwater.

This place used to print newspapers, leaflets, and church notices. Later, the workers went on strike, the boss ran away with the money, and the machines were dismantled until only empty shells remained.

After the armed insurgents took over, they didn't renovate it too lavishly. They simply replaced the broken glass with iron railings, converted the underground warehouse into a conference room, and turned several of the best-viewed chimney openings into hidden sentry posts.

When Xilun arrived, two gray-clad guards were already standing at the entrance.

They did not search them.

It's not about trust, but about knowing you won't find anything on the search results.

Even if someone like Xilun walks in empty-handed, it doesn't mean he doesn't have something to kill.

Albert is on the second floor.

The room was spacious, with the window half-open, letting in the dampness mixed with the musty smell of ink.

The new leader of the armed insurgent party stood by the window, wearing a well-tailored dark brown coat with the cuffs buttoned up meticulously.

He was more composed than when we last met, and the sharpness in his eyes had lessened considerably, but that didn't mean he had become gentler.

That was a knife hidden in its sheath.

"You're three minutes late," Albert said.

Siren took off his top hat and placed it on the table.

"There were too many people on the road, so I walked slowly."

Albert turned around and looked at his pale face: "Are you badly injured?"

"fine."

"Thank goodness he didn't die."

"The CEO's understanding is very accurate."

Albert chuckled.

The atmosphere in the room was neither warm nor hostile.

They weren't friends.

It's more like two people temporarily sharing a bridge in a storm, with a rushing torrent below and enemies at the other end.

Everyone knows that, if necessary, the other person might also push them down.

"After last night, Oin will definitely hate you," Albert said.

"I hate you too."

“I’m an armed insurgent, it’s normal for him to hate me. You’re different.” Albert walked to the table, his fingertip pressing against a document. “You could have remained neutral.”

Xilun said, "Oin does not allow true neutrality."

"So you chose to sell him to me?"

"I simply brought the situation back into balance."

Albert looked at him, and after a moment nodded slightly: "This sentence is very suitable to be included in the report."

Xilun did not respond.

Albert picked up the document and pushed it across the table.

"Gran is still alive. He's very stubborn and has only revealed a few troop rotation points for the Tusol Guards so far. The military documents are also genuine, enough for us to force Oin to hand over a batch of benefits."

Xilun flipped through a few pages.

There was no core content above; it was just the part shown to him.

Albert wouldn't be foolish enough to lay out all his chips.

"Congratulations."

"Congratulations to you too," Albert said. "I won't pursue the matter of what you took from the Tusol warehouse."

"That's payment."

"Who made that decision?"

"The risks of last night."

Albert stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed.

"Sirlen, you're the kind of person I hate. You always talk about stealing things like you're settling a bill."

"Bills are more reliable than favors."

"That's true." Albert's smile faded. "So let's continue discussing the bill."

He took a small box out of the drawer.

The box was opened, revealing three small, cold blue crystals with misty patterns slowly moving within them.

"The Frost Mist Marrow Crystal is useful for your breathing technique. There aren't many, but they are precious enough."

Xilun did not reach out.

"cost?"

"For the next month, the Brotherhood will maintain patrols in the North District and will not allow the Tusol Guards to enter the inner streets of the North District under the pretext of clearing out cults. If they force their way in, you will hold them off for half an hour, and my men will arrive."

"You need to turn the North District into a buffer zone."

"Oin has just seized power and needs to prove to the outside world that he is still strong. I can't let him establish his authority in the North District," Albert said. "You don't want to either."

Xilun looked at the three crystals.

"Can."

Albert narrowed his eyes: "You agreed so quickly?"

"Because this is what I was meant to do."

"Then the second thing." Albert pushed the box closer. "The Third Charity Hospital recently closed some of its outer outposts. We suspect they're moving important things out of the city. You have clues about the Sleepers' cerebrospinal fluid. If you discover any new developments, notify me first."

Xilun said, "We'll discuss the price after we find it."

Albert clicked his tongue.

"You really don't want to suffer any loss."

People who suffer losses usually don't live long.

"Then you'd better live a long life." Albert leaned back in his chair. "Oin has started investigating old Brandon's belongings. He's very thorough; he even found out which clinic the watchmaker's wife went to last year."

Xilun's gaze shifted almost imperceptibly.

Albert caught it.

"Looks like I guessed right." He chuckled softly, "Lunar phase silver marrow?"

Xilun said calmly, "The more the Chief Executive knows, the higher the price will be."

"I won't steal it." Albert shrugged. "At least not now. If you advance to the third rank, it won't be a bad thing for me. A third-rank person who can keep Tusol, the Black Death Cult, and the Whispering Choir in check is more useful than a second-rank person who could be killed at any moment."

That's a very straightforward statement.

It's cold enough.

Xilun closed the file.

"What if I become uncontrollable after being promoted?"

Albert looked at him and said, "We'll see when the time comes."

The two stared at each other for a moment.

The sound of rain outside the window grew even louder.

Finally, Xiren put the box away.

"I have to go now."

Albert didn't try to stop him, but spoke as Siron turned away: "There are at least six groups of people waiting outside to see where you'll come from. Two from Tusol, one from the Noble Council, one from the City Hall, one from the Black Market, and one I'm not sure about."

"Where is the person in charge?"

"I don't need to get too close," Albert said. "If I get too close, you might misunderstand."

Siron put on his top hat.

"It's a misunderstanding."

Albert's smile paused slightly.

Xilun pushed open the door and left.

At the end of the corridor, Colleen stood against the wall, her face still somewhat pale beneath her short hair. The poisoned needle that had grazed her shoulder last night was clearly not entirely harmless.

She saw Xilun and raised her chin.

"You're even bolder than the report suggests."

"Reports are generally written conservatively," said Silen.

"Maybe you just went crazy too fast." Colleen glanced downstairs. "Want me to give you a ride? There are a lot of dogs outside."

"No need."

"Don't die on the road," she said calmly. "The CEO will feel it's a loss."

"Please thank him for his concern."

"He's not concerned about you, he's concerned about the investment."

"Then you should thank me even more."

Colleen paused for a moment, then chuckled and stepped aside to make way.

Xilun went downstairs and walked through the printing factory lobby.

Rain was falling outside the door, and shallow water had accumulated on the street.

His carriage remained where it was, the driver hunched over, looking like an ordinary person suffering from the cold.

Xilun boarded the train.

The wheels rolled over puddles and slowly drove away from the old printing factory.

The trackers made a move.

Some people traveled by horse-drawn carriage, some on foot, some moved on rooftops, and some took shortcuts to the next street corner.

Everyone thought they were hiding it well.

Xilun sat in the carriage, eyes closed, his fingertips gently touching the water droplets on the window.

Rainwater slid down the car window.

One drop, two drops, three drops.

The moisture carried the outline of the street into his senses.

Twenty paces to the left rear, there is a black-covered carriage.

At the right-hand alley entrance, a woman holding a yellow umbrella stopped twice.

Footsteps were on the eaves, very light, but they broke the puddles.

Further away, there was another presence, always neither too close nor too far, like a very patient hunting dog.

Xilun did not move.

The carriage proceeded along the original route to the city square.

There, the second carriage prepared by Rhodes will appear, making a normal transfer.

Then the third route is the real road.

A quarter of an hour later, the first carriage stopped on the west side of the square.

Xilun got off the bus and entered a used bookstore on a corner.

Three minutes later, a man in a gray coat and a bowler hat left through the back door. He was similar in build to Xilun, but more hunched over. He boarded the second carriage and continued heading north.

Most of the followers immediately followed.

The remaining few hesitated for a moment, then followed after them.

They dare not gamble.

Because Siren does indeed appear to still be in the car.

Meanwhile, the real Siron had already passed through the narrow underground passage of the bookstore, changed into an inconspicuous dark brown sailor uniform, and entered the area under the iron bridge along the drainage ditch.

Rena was waiting there.

She was holding a black umbrella, and a small truck carrying fish was parked next to her. The fishy smell was strong enough to mask many other odors.

"Young Master."

Xilun took the purse she handed him.

Is the back clean?

"It's temporarily clear. Tusol's men were taken away in the second vehicle. One of the armed insurgents' sentries wasn't with them; he was just watching."

"Let him see."

"There's new information from Baiya Town."

Rena lowered her voice, "Eugene will meet the buyer tonight near the old lighthouse. The buyer's identity is unknown, but he brought a long wooden crate. Our informant overheard them mentioning 'The moon will move, but the clock will not chime.'"

Xilun's eyes darkened slightly.

Moon phase bell.

Finally, there's a shadow.

"By waterway."

Rena nodded.

A narrow boat was moored under the iron bridge. The boatman was a man from the old Brotherhood freight line. He was taciturn and only cared about money and Rhodes's tokens.

After Xilun boarded the ship, the rain gradually intensified.

The narrow boat drifted away from Saint Laurent along a tributary.

The city's coal smoke, bells, and horse hooves were left behind, replaced by the damp reeds, mud, and smell of decaying wood along the riverbanks.

Rena sat at the stern, inspecting the pistol.

Siren sat at the bow of the boat, his palms dangling into the water.

The icy river water slipped through my fingers.

The water's natural ability to divide the water quietly unfolds, the currents whispering to him about the hidden reefs, shoals, and whirlpools ahead.

He could feel that his body had not yet recovered to its best state.

There is still pain deep in my left rib, and my mind is also tense due to the high-intensity training over the past two weeks.

But the cold breath became more condensed.

The water flow became more obedient.

The Xuan Yin Breathing Technique is like a layer of cold armor attached to bones; it is not yet fully formed, but it already has an outline.

In the evening, the boat arrived at the reed beach outside Baiya Town.

This place is very close to the sea.

The air was filled with a salty smell.

In the distance, white cliffs stand under the gray sky, like a row of old bones gnawed by the waves.

The lighthouse atop the cliff has long been abandoned, its tower mottled and its iron railings rusted. Occasionally, seabirds perch on it, emitting sharp cries.

The informant was a thin little boy with frostbite on his face. He bowed to Reina when he saw her.

"Are the things still in town?"

"Rena asked."

The boy nodded: "Mr. Eugene is staying on the second floor of the Seagull Hotel. He met two out-of-towners this afternoon, one with a mole on his face and the other wearing leather gloves. They said they would go to the old lighthouse after the tide comes in tonight."

"Where are the people from Tusol?"

"We've arrived." The boy's voice was even lower. "There are three people, one who looks like a noble steward, and two who look like guards. They live next to the salt warehouse and haven't gone into the town center."

Xilun knelt down and handed the boy a silver coin.

The boy's eyes lit up slightly, but he didn't answer immediately.

Xilun said, "Here you go. Don't wander around the streets tonight."

The boy then took it, quickly stuffed it into his shoe, and turned to disappear into the alley.

Rena looked at Xilen.

"Young Master, shall we deal with Eugene first?"

"No."

Xilun gazed at the distant lighthouse.

"Wait for them to make the deal."

What if the moon phase clock is taken away?

"Then go with the person who took you away."

"What should we do with those three people from Tusol?"

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

The sea breeze ruffled the hem of his clothes, bringing a damp, cold, and salty taste.

"If they just want to look, let them look."

"What if we rob it?"

"Then stay."

……

As night fell, only the sound of the tide remained near the old lighthouse.

The waves crashed against the rocks again and again, and the white foam broke apart in the darkness.

Eugene, wrapped in a thick woolen overcoat and carrying a windproof lamp, stood on the stone steps at the base of the lighthouse. He was short and stout, with a red nose and lips that trembled incessantly from the cold wind.

He was followed by two guards.

One of them had a calm demeanor and broad, thick hands, indicating he was indeed at the second rank.

Not far away, two buyers carried a long wooden crate over.

The man in leather gloves asked in a hoarse voice, "Did you bring the things?"

Eugene rubbed his hands together: "Let's look at the money first."

The man with the mole sneered, "You think we'll renege on our debt?"

"Those of us in this line of work are afraid of death and afraid of poverty," Eugene chuckled. "Please don't take offense, gentlemen."

The man in the leather gloves tossed out a leather bag.

Eugene caught it, weighed it in his hand, and the smile on his face became much more genuine.

He gestured to the guard to open the wooden crate behind him.

The lid of the box was opened.

Inside lay an old grandfather clock.

The clock face is dark silver, engraved with the moon, tides, and a ring of tiny stars. The pendulum has stopped moving, the dial is cracked, and the hands are stopped at midnight.

As the sea breeze blew by, the star patterns seemed to come alive for a moment, shimmering with a faint silver light.

In the shadows, Xilun's breath hitched slightly.

The cold energy within his body reacted.

It wasn't a violent tremor, but a subtle, cool pull.

Like moonlight falling on ice.

Lunar phase silver marrow.

It's right inside.

The man in leather gloves bent down to inspect the clock, and just as his fingertips touched the clock, a short bird call suddenly came from afar.

Eugene's expression changed slightly.

His second-tier guard suddenly looked up.

"Someone's there!"

The next instant, two figures rushed out of the shadows on the other side of the lighthouse.

The people of Tusol finally made a move.

Without a word, they opened fire.

The firelight illuminated the sea fog.

Eugene screamed and backed away. The man in the leather glove slammed the wooden crate shut, while the man with the mole drew his dagger and lunged at the shooter.

The scene instantly descended into chaos.

Xilun remained unmoved.

Rena lay prone behind the rocks, her gun already raised.

"Young Master?"

Xilun looked at the second-tier guards in the chaos.

Instead of protecting Eugene, the man immediately grabbed the Moon Phase Bell.

wrong.

He is not one of Eugene's men.

Or rather, what he really wanted to protect was not Eugene.

"wait."