Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Mars and frost exploded simultaneously.

He was jolted back three steps, his boots carving two deep grooves into the ice.

At the entrance to the main canal, the deputy's face was deathly pale.

The captain was defeated.

It wasn't a trap, nor was it a surprise attack by lightning, nor was it due to underwater disadvantages.

Instead, in a direct confrontation, he was forced back by a single shot from Xilun.

"team leader!"

The second-in-command raised his pistol and aimed it at Xilun's retreating figure.

Suddenly, the fog rushed towards him.

He was about to pull the trigger when a layer of frost had already formed on the barrel. The trigger froze, and the spring made a snapping sound as it could no longer bear the strain.

The second-in-command's pupils contracted, and he immediately dropped his gun.

The next moment, the pistol beside him froze and cracked, the fragments shattering and cutting a bloody gash on his cheek.

Xilun's voice came from the fog.

"Get away from me."

There was no shouting.

No threat.

This deterred the remaining guards from taking another step forward.

Clement steadied himself and glanced down at his sword.

A small piece is missing from the tip of the sword.

The extraordinary rapier that had been with him for many years, crafted by the Tussor family workshop, was broken by the chill just now.

Clement slowly exhaled.

"Is it finished?"

Xilun did not answer.

He felt his body.

Third-order aberration.

This word used to be far removed from him.

It's so far away that it requires countless resources, clues, traps, and deals to reach it.

It's inside my body now.

The newly formed organs are quieter and stronger than before. The lungs are like a container for an icy sea; even after prolonged underwater stays, the burning pain that once pushed them to their limits is no longer felt.

The blood flows with a chill, but it no longer harms itself; instead, it becomes one of the rules that maintain the body.

Deep within the bones lies a tidal force.

Beneath the skin, faint black and blue lines appear and disappear, only rising up when power is circulated, like shimmering scales on the surface of a dark sea.

The spiritual core is no longer like broken glass.

It still has cracks.

But the crack was filled with silvery moonlight.

That's not completely safe.

It's only temporarily stable.

He knew that his promotion was too hasty, the medicine was made but the ceremony was crude, and there were still hidden problems in his body.

But at least for now, he stood firm.

Xiren raised his left hand.

The sword wound on his palm slowly closed, and fine frost appeared between the flesh and blood, like a layer of cold thread sewing the wound shut.

"This is just the beginning."

He said.

Clement's eyes narrowed slightly.

He understood what he was saying.

The nearly month-long manhunt was for a second-tier Xilun who was on the run.

Now, it's time for Tier 3 Xilun to fight back.

Clement did not back down.

He took out a gray vial from his waist, flicked the stopper with his thumb, and drank it down.

The second-in-command said urgently, "Captain, that's—"

Clement raised his hand to stop him.

After the medicine went down his throat, his face quickly turned an unnatural pale blue.

The blood vessels in the frostbitten area of ​​my right hand bulged, and my previously stiff wrist was forcibly restored to flexibility, at the cost of fine cracks and bleeding on the skin surface.

This is the battlefield medicine for the Tusol Guards.

It's not meant for people to return alive.

Clement gripped the broken rapier tightly, and his aura surged once more.

"Xilun, don't think you can kill me easily just because you've reached the third tier."

His voice remained steady.

"You've just advanced, your injuries haven't healed, and your strength is unstable. As for me, I've been a third-tier cultivator for eleven years."

Xilun nodded.

"So you still have a chance."

Clement frowned slightly.

Xilun's second half of his sentence followed immediately.

"Let me play a little longer."

As soon as he finished speaking, the mist in the reservoir suddenly dissipated.

Xilun rushed forward on the ice.

The speed is much faster than before.

Clement swung his sword, slashing out three blue lines that sealed the throat, heart, and knee respectively.

His swordsmanship remained as sharp as ever, and his attacks as ruthless as ever; he did not lose his rhythm despite Xilun's advancement.

Xilun didn't force his way in.

He slightly turned his body, and the ice beneath his feet suddenly melted into water. The water flow supported his ankles, allowing him to slide half a step at an angle that is difficult for ordinary people to achieve.

The first sword strike missed.

The second sword grazed his chest, its azure blade slicing through his clothes, but was blocked for half a breath by the black and blue scales that emerged from beneath his skin.

As the third sword slashed towards the knee, the tail of Xilun's spear had already touched the ice.

A chill ran down the gun barrel and into the ground.

The ice surface exploded, and the broken ice shards rolled back like a torrential rain.

Clement closed his left eye, letting the shards of ice cut his cheek, and his rapier pierced through the icy rain, aiming once more for Siron's wrist.

He continued to look for weaknesses.

Since Xilun has just been promoted, the most unstable area must be the transition of power.

As long as his gun momentum is broken, the battle can be dragged into the rhythm that Clement is familiar with.

But just as the sword touched the gun barrel, Clement heard a very faint thud.

The frost on the surface of the golden spear suddenly melted, turning into a thin layer of water. When the slender sword struck it, its momentum was deflected by half an inch.

Half an inch is enough.

Xiren reached out with his left hand, his palm pressing against Clement's chest.

Clement immediately leaned back.

But that hand never actually touched him.

A mass of dark blue coldness suddenly compressed in front of his palm.

Xuan Yin breathing technique.

threw up.

The chill was like an arrow.

It wasn't a water line, nor an ice blade, but a pure, extremely cold current that shot out from Xilun's palm and struck Clement's chest.

boom!

Clement was sent flying backward, crashing into a stone pillar and shattering it.

A patch of dark blue ice flowers formed on the chest armor, and the edges of the ice flowers were spreading inward as if corroding.

He grunted, and with a backhand flick of his rapier, sliced ​​off the chest armor along with the ice flowers.

When the armor landed, it had already shattered into a pile of ice shards.

Clement's eye twitched slightly.

If you slow down even half a breath, the ice flower will bite into your sternum.

This is no longer just a suppression of cold breath.

This is an attack.

Extremely powerful attack.

Xilun looked down at his palm, seemingly adapting to the change.

After reaching the extraordinary level of the Profound Yin Breathing Technique, breathing exercises are no longer just for cultivation and healing.

It can absorb cold, water, fog, and dampness.

Vomiting can kill.

Clement didn't give him time to continue experiencing it.

He burst out from the rubble, his body close to the ground, his slender sword slicing across the ice, leaving a trail of blue light.

The two collided again.

The guns and swords were so fast that only afterimages remained.

The stone walls surrounding the reservoir kept cracking, the ice layer broke and then froze, and the boiling water surged up and then froze again.

Clement's swordsmanship was more refined than Siron's; every strike was as if honed through countless battles, never adding or subtracting an inch.

Xilun, on the other hand, was like a beast that had just learned to use its new body.

At the beginning, he still made several over-judgments, his gun missed, and Clement stabbed him in the left rib, leaving a bloody gash.

But the wound quickly froze.

With each sword strike he received, his control over his third-tier body became more stable.

He gradually stopped trying to avoid all attacks.

Block it if you need to.

Eat when you should.

As long as it's not fatal, use wounds to create distance, and coldness to create openings.

Clement quickly realized something was wrong.

Xilun was using him as practice.

Take an eleven-year-old Tier 3 Royal Guard Captain and use him to integrate the body of a newly promoted Aberrant.

This is harder to accept than provocation.

"You're too arrogant!"

Clement finally let out a low growl.

He turned his sword, pressed himself close to Xilun's chest, and the slender sword transformed from a thrust into a grappling hook. The blue blade pierced through the gap in the spear shaft, aiming straight for Xilun's left eye.

This sword strike was both extremely insidious and extremely beautiful.

It was too late for Westminster to retreat.

He closed his left eye.

The sword tip pierced half an inch in front of the eyelid.

Stop.

A thin mist condensed in front of him, from which fine ice crystals emerged, like an ice shield only as thick as a fingernail.

Clement's sword shattered the ice shield, yet he continued to advance.

Xilun tilted his head.

The tip of the sword grazed the corner of his eye, leaving a bloody gash.

At the same time, his forehead almost collided with Clement's face.

Xilun opened his mouth.

He exhaled a breath of cold air.

This statement lacked impact.

But it's so close that there's no way to avoid it.

Clement's expression changed drastically. He immediately held his breath and stepped back, but the cold air had already reached his right arm.

His entire right arm stiffened instantly.

The old injury to his wrist was completely ignited.

The rapier slipped from his hand.

The butt of Siron's spear swept across, striking Clement in the ribs.

Crack!

The sound of bone cracking rang out clearly.

Clement was sent flying and crashed heavily into the edge of the main canal.

The deputy and others wanted to go forward to help.

Xilun raised his hand and shook it.

The mist from the main canal suddenly froze into a semi-transparent ice wall, separating the guards from the battlefield.

"Don't come any closer."

This time it was Clement who spoke.

He stood up, supporting himself on the rubble, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his right arm hanging limply at his side, almost numb.

The deputy's eyes were red.

"team leader!"

Clement did not turn around.

He looked at Xilun and suddenly smiled.

There was no contempt in that smile, only weariness.

"Lord Oin is right."

He said in a low voice, "If you reach the third level, you will indeed be a scourge."

Xilun walked slowly forward.

"Yes, for Tusol."

Clement nodded.

He picked up the rapier with his left hand.

It's not convenient.

But it still works.

"I joined the Royal Guard when I was thirteen. The first time I held a sword was to get a bag of flour for my mother. Later, I learned to kill, to obey orders, and to ignore the filth in the noble halls."

He spoke while adjusting his breathing.

"I told myself that as long as there are patrol teams in the city, as long as there are tax checkpoints at the docks, and as long as cults dare not arrest people during the day, this sword will have meaning."

Xilun stopped in his tracks.

Clement raised his sword, his left hand unsteady, but the tip of the sword was still aimed at Siron.

"So I won't apologize."

"You don't need it either."

"That's what Xilun said."

"We just take different paths."

Clement's smile faded.

"Then let's finish."

He rushed forward.

This is the final blow.

There was no remaining potion, no right hand, and no complete nail guard.

But the foundation of the third order remains.

His speed remained fast, his swordsmanship accurate, and his killing intent pure.

Xilun gripped the golden spear tightly, a chill rising from his spine as he inhaled deeply, drawing in all the surrounding mist, ice crystals, and water vapor.

In the interior scene, the silver moon sinks into the black sea.

In reality, a dark red starlight shone from the tip of the gun.

Red star.

This time, however, the starlight was enveloped in a dark blue chill, like a cold star burning in the deep sea.

Clement's sword line has arrived.

Xilun's guns have arrived.

Two beams of light collided in the center of the reservoir.

There was no loud noise.

There was only one extremely muffled, piercing sound.

puff.

The golden spear pierced Clement's chest, pulling him backward several steps until he was pinned against the ice wall.

The rapier stopped in front of Siron's shoulder.

The sword tip pierced half an inch into the flesh, then could go no further.

Behind the ice wall, the deputy's eyes were bloodshot and his lips were trembling, but he was stopped by Clement's last raised left hand.

Clement looked down at the gun barrel on his chest.

The chill was freezing his blood.

It also sealed off his chances of survival.

"Don't kill them."

His voice was very low.

"They're just following orders."

Xilun looked at him.

After a moment, he nodded.

"As long as they stop chasing."

Clement seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

He looked up at the cracked stone wall above him.

A ray of sunlight had somehow pierced through the abandoned mine.

The rain stopped.

The morning light streamed through the cracks, mingling with the silvery-blue glow of the sunset in the reservoir, creating a surprisingly brilliant effect.

Clement suddenly remembered Sihanoukville many years ago.

The first time he wore the guard uniform, his mother stood at the alley entrance, her face full of pride. He thought then that as long as he was strong enough, he could protect everyone who needed protection.

I later learned that if you hold a knife for too long, you won't be able to distinguish between protection and slaughter.

But there was no turning back for him.

"Silon".

He spoke with difficulty.

"Oin won't stop."

"I know."

"Tusol is not your only enemy."

"I know that too."

Clement stared at him, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end he only spat out a mouthful of icy blood.

"Then don't die too quickly."

Xilun did not answer.

Clement's hand fell to his side.

The aura of the third-tier guard captain completely dissipated.

Behind the ice wall, there was only deathly silence.

Xilun drew his golden spear.

Clement's body slid slowly down, supported by the frost, preventing him from falling into the sewage in a sorry state.

The ice wall melted.

The second-in-command gripped his short axe tightly, his eyes filled with pain and hatred, but he did not rush forward.

He knew that charging forward would only lead to his death.

Xiren looked at them.

The pressure from the promotion wasn't overt, but it felt like deep water pressing down on everyone's chest, making it hard for them to breathe.

"Take him away."

"That's what Xilun said."

The deputy was stunned.

Xilun turned and walked toward the main canal on the other side of the reservoir.

Tell Oin.

His voice echoed deep within the abandoned mine.

"The chase is over."

The deputy gritted his teeth. "You want us to relay your message?"

Xilun paused briefly.

The mist slowly dissipated behind him, revealing shattered ice, broken swords, bloodstains, and the lingering glow of the sunset.

"Not on my behalf."

He turned his face to the side, his eyes as cold as moonlight beneath the sea.

"It's Ticlamen."

The deputy's Adam's apple bobbed, but he ultimately remained silent.

Xilun proceeded along the main canal.

With each step, the water underfoot would automatically separate and then recede behind you.

He could sense the underground water veins further away, hear the subtle seepage in the soil outside the abandoned mine after the rain, and feel the salty dampness carried by the sea breeze blowing in from the rift valley to the north.

The world of third-order mutants is clearer and more dangerous than it has been in the past.

His body is very new.

It's as new as a knife that's just been quenched and forged.

However, there are still hidden cracks inside the blade.

The hidden dangers left by the hasty promotion, the black energy mark in his body, the remnants of the evil god's consciousness, the Black Death Cult's spying, and Oin's murderous intent—none of these things have disappeared.

But he was no longer the one being hunted.

At the end of the main canal, a light mist rose outwards.

Xilun walked into the fog.

Outside the abandoned mine, the first light of dawn was breaking.

The distant mountains and forests shone brightly after the rain, and the river below was swollen with water, with white vapor rising from the surface.

The morning glow pierces through the thin clouds and reflects on the river, like a road ignited by fire and silver frost.

Xilun stood at the exit, raising his hand to his chest.

The pain is still there.

But my heartbeat was steady.

He looked down and saw that the sword wound on his palm had been reduced to a shallow icy mark.

In the abandoned mine behind them, Tusol's guards began collecting Clement's body. The suppressed sobs were very soft, quickly drowned out by the sound of water.

Xilun did not turn back.

He looked in the direction of Victoria.

There was also the Brotherhood, Rhodes, Rena, Teacher Lund, and Oin, Albert, the Black Death Cult, and many more eyes hiding behind the fog.

The game in the North area is not over yet.

From this moment on, a true Tier 3 Extraordinary Being appeared on the chessboard.

Xilun slowly exhaled a breath of cold mist.

The mist fell into the river in front of us.

The surging river water instantly calmed down, a thin layer of frost condensed on the surface, and was quickly dyed a brilliant silver-red by the morning light.

He stepped onto the river.

The water parted at my feet.

The sunset glow paved the way.

Xilun headed north.