Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

According to regulations, newly appointed supervisors must report to the district supervisor directly under them before officially taking over their work.

Hevi whispered a reminder: "Go wait at the White House, and remember to bring some silver shillings to give to the servant who announces the news at the door."

Xilun pondered this over and over, noting that it was quite sophisticated, and then nodded, "I understand."

It's easier to see the King of Hell than to deal with his underlings.

These laborers received meager wages, and their illicit income depended entirely on these people's influence.

If someone else has taken care of things, but you remain aloof, you'll suffer the consequences.

Give them a few silver shillings, and at least they won't speak ill of you in the future. If anything happens, they'll let you know in advance.

Xiren felt in his pocket and took out two silver shillings.

He arrived at the two-story white house in the center of the dock.

A young laborer stood at the door, wearing a light blue uniform, yawning.

Seeing Xiren approach, the man lazily asked, "What are you doing here? Lord Lothar is with the Governor and has no time for idlers."

A gentle smile appeared on Xiren's face.

He stepped forward and discreetly slipped two silver shillings into the man's hand.

"You've worked hard, brother."

"I am the new foreman, Siren," Siren said in a low voice. "Miss Hevil sent me to report to Lord Losas."

The laborer felt the heavy touch in his palm, and his eyes changed instantly.

He glanced down quickly, and when he saw that flash of silver light, the laziness on his face instantly melted away, replaced by a warm smile.

"Oh, it's the Xilun brothers!"

The man skillfully stuffed the silver coin into his pocket, glanced around to make sure no one else was there, and then said, "My name is Ali."

"Brothers Aili".

Siren then asked, "Has Lord Lothas returned?"

"Just got back, he's throwing a tantrum inside."

Eric leaned closer and said, "The governor scolded me by the river earlier, and he's in a bad mood right now. You absolutely mustn't go in; that would be like walking into the line of fire."

Xilun's heart skipped a beat; this money was well spent.

If it weren't for Eric's reminder, he would have gone in and gotten himself into trouble, and his future would probably be difficult.

"Thanks for reminding me," Xilun said gratefully. "When would be a good time for me to go in?"

"My uncle has a habit."

Eric pondered, "He has a habit of drinking a sip of hot tea to calm his nerves before entering the house. Wait ten minutes until he finishes his tea and his temper has subsided before going in."

Xilun's eyes flickered slightly.

uncle?

It seems that this gatekeeper is actually the nephew of the district governor, Losas.

He glanced at Eric without making a sound.

Although this person was young, he was thin and his steps were unsteady. He had obviously not practiced breathing techniques and was just an ordinary person.

"Brother, your job is pretty easy."

Xilun tentatively tried to get closer to him, saying, "It's just that I often have to wait, which is quite tiring."

Eric sighed and shook his head: "Hey, there's nothing I can do. I'm not smart enough to learn that damn breathing technique. I can't be a supervisor, but at least I can share some of my uncle's worries."

He said this with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Xilun pondered in his heart.

Lothas, despite being a district governor whose influence at White Raven Wharf was second only to Lord Yuri, couldn't even secure a supervisory position for his nephew.

Is the requirement for this position to reach an extraordinary level so strict?

"What is Lord Losas worried about?" Siron changed the subject.

Eric glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and did not reply, seemingly unwilling to reveal too much.

He glanced out the window and, through the glass, could see the figure inside had put down their teacup and picked up the newspaper from the table.

"Alright."

Eric straightened up and straightened his uniform. "Lord Losas has started reading the newspaper, which means his anger has subsided. You may go in now."

Xilun nodded and thanked him again.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his expression, and gently knocked on the door.

"Thump, thump, thump."

The lights were off in the room, only the embers in the fireplace glowed red-hot, occasionally crackling and popping.

A strong aroma, a mixture of pungent cigar smoke and dry heat, hit me the moment I opened the door.

Xilun lowered his head and stepped inside.

Behind the mahogany desk sat a middle-aged man.

Lothas did not wear the fur coat of a gangster boss as Siron had imagined. Instead, he wore a fine black vest, and the collar of his white shirt was open, revealing thick chest hair and a gold chain as thick as a finger.

But his face was completely out of place with his gentlemanly attire.

His face was covered in thick, fleshy muscles, and a centipede-like scar ran down his left cheek from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were fierce, like those of a hungry wolf that had just devoured a person.

"Close the door."

Lothas's voice was like two rough granite pieces rubbing together, deep and carrying an undeniable pressure.

Xilun turned around and gently closed the heavy wooden door, shutting out the noise from outside.

"You're Xilun?"

Lothas exhaled a puff of smoke and finally raised his head.

Those were bloodshot eyes, the pupils a cloudy brown, carrying an indifference and scrutiny born of someone who had long held a high position.

"Yes, Lord Losas."

Xilun bowed slightly, his posture respectful but not humble.

His back was ramrod straight, like a wild grass stubbornly growing in the wind and snow.

Lothas narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping across Xiren's face.

He grinned, a smile that made the fat on his face look somewhat ferocious.

"Why didn't you study hard and find a decent job? Instead, you're working as a laborer at the docks!"

Lothar tapped his fingers lightly on the table, making a "tap, tap" sound, each tap like a blow to the heart.

Xiren's expression was calm, as if he were telling someone else's story: "He didn't do well in school, didn't graduate from charity school, and had no other way to make a living except by doing manual labor."

"Your grades aren't good?"

Lothar frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

He opened the file about Xilun in front of him, his large fingers rustling as they ran across the pages.

"You were at the top of your class at the church-run charity school for the first two years, especially in math and common language; you even received a scholarship. How come your grades suddenly dropped so much in the third year, and you had to drop out?"

Losas was puzzled and his expression was thoughtful.

"Something happened at home." Xilun's voice remained calm, without any discernible emotional fluctuation.

Lothas continued reading, his gaze lingering on a few lines of text in the file.

Gradually, the scrutiny and intimidation on his face dissipated somewhat, replaced by a hint of surprise.

"...What a poor child."

Lothas looked at the records about "Elvira" in the file—the woman who was once a very popular dancer but later became a gambling addict and drug addict.

"I was born without a father, my mother had gambling debts and a history of marijuana use..."

Lothas muttered to himself, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper, "Even a few months ago, my mother died... from alcoholism and fighting."

He closed the file, exhaled a long puff of smoke, the smoke obscuring his expression.

"I have no right to comment on your experience."

Lothas's voice calmed down, and his aggressive tone subsided. "But that's just how the world is, and I suppose you've accepted your current life."

Looking at the young man before him, who was excessively young yet possessed an unusually calm gaze, he felt a strange sense of appreciation for his talent.