Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The two gatekeepers outside the Brotherhood's stronghold didn't recognize him at first.

Xiren wore a black hat with the collar turned up high. His trench coat was covered in dust and salt from the journey. He looked a little thinner than when he left, but his back was straighter, like a piece of iron just pulled from the ice.

It wasn't until he reached the door and removed the water droplets from the brim of his hat that one of them suddenly widened his eyes.

"Young Master west...Xilun?"

The other person was stunned at first, then his face lit up with joy. Just as he was about to shout, Xilun raised his hand.

"Don't make a sound."

His voice wasn't loud, but the man seemed to be pressed down by something invisible, his shout caught in his throat, and even his breathing became instinctively light.

The next moment, the thick wooden door was pushed open from the inside.

Yuri stood in the doorway, holding a cup, his smile still carrying a hint of sleepiness from waking up early.

"What's all the noise about?!"

Before he could finish speaking, his gaze fixed on Xilun's face.

"You're back?"

Yuri smiled and stepped forward, raising his hand as if to give Xilen a pat on the shoulder as he used to, but he stopped halfway through raising his hand.

His smile froze on his face.

wrong.

That's not right at all.

Standing before him was clearly the same familiar person; his features, physique, and even the calmness between his brows remained unchanged. Yet, Yuri sensed an unprecedented sense of danger emanating from him.

It wasn't an overt display of murderous intent, nor was it a deliberately intimidating aura.

It's something quieter.

Like the silent, flowing ice beneath a river in the depths of winter, like a bottomless trench in a foggy night.

Even though you know it hasn't moved, if you get any closer, you'll instinctively feel cold, and feel your bones tighten.

Yuri's Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes glazed over.

"you……"

Xilun looked at him calmly: "It's done."

These two words were spoken very lightly.

Yuri was stunned for two or three breaths before he seemed to understand. His lips twitched first, and then his eyes widened.

"It's done?" His voice trembled. "You mean—the third tier?"

Xilun nodded.

Yuri stood there, as if he had been hit in the face by something, and didn't come to his senses for a long time.

More than a year.

It really has been just over a year.

When I first met Xilun, he was just a young man with too much ambition and too much sharpness, yet he had to fight for his life step by step.

Later, this man climbed the ranks quickly and ruthlessly, killing many people and causing a lot of trouble. But no matter what, Yuri could still describe him as "young".

But not anymore.

The words "third tier" are like an invisible threshold; those who cross it can no longer view things with the same perspective as before.

Yuri suddenly burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Damn it..." he laughed as he vigorously wiped his face. "I was bragging to people last night that you'd probably come back alive, and look what you've got, bringing me back this huge piece of news."

Hearing the noise, the people inside started to peek out.

Soon, shouts and footsteps filled the air.

"It really is Young Master Xilun!"

"I heard he's reached the third tier, is that true?"

"Nonsense, didn't you see how pale Yuri's face turned?"

"Fuck you, I'm just happy!"

Laughter and curses poured out one after another, dispelling the morning's damp chill like a heat wave.

They ushered Xilun inside. The charcoal fire was burning brightly, and there were half-eaten salted meat and black bread on the table. The smell of beer and cooking oil mingled together, which inexplicably made people feel at ease.

Yuri poured him a glass of hot wine himself, his hands trembling slightly.

"Take a sip first, it'll warm you up." After saying that, he seemed to suddenly remember something, leaned closer and lowered his voice, "Tusol must be going crazy right now, right?"

"almost."

Xilun took the glass, the warmth slowly spreading through his palm, suppressing some of the lingering sea air from the journey.

Yuri clicked his tongue, but there was no worry in his eyes; instead, they grew brighter and brighter.

"Even if they're crazy, it's pointless. This is the South District, not their Tusol Manor. Besides, even if they did try to interfere, they couldn't reach us."

He patted the table, suppressing his excitement, and said, "You can stay here for now and rest well. The guild leader went out a couple of days ago and will be back in two days. When he finds out you've reached the third rank, he'll probably laugh the whole roof off."

Xilun hummed in agreement.

Seeing that his expression remained calm, Yuri couldn't help but take a few more glances at him.

"You really are something..." Yuri shook his head and chuckled. "If other people reached the third rank, they would probably walk with their chins held a little higher, but you're still like this."

"Lifting your chin won't help." Xiren took a sip of wine, the heat burning his throat, and he finally felt a little better after his long journey. "The people who deserve to kill me won't stop just because I lift my chin."

Yuri paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"That sounds like you."

He paused, then became serious: "But seriously, don't go back to the North District right now. The Tusor family is a large and powerful family. They just lost a Tier 3, so it's impossible for them to remain completely silent."

"You can hide here for a couple of days, and nobody will find fault with it. The South District is a mixed bag; it's too easy for you to hide alone."

Xilun did not refute.

In fact, that was his original plan.

Yuri asked a few more questions about the sea, and Xiren only answered what he could, without mentioning the truly dangerous parts of the abandoned mine.

Even so, the people in the room were still stunned, and even forgot to drink their wine.

Once the excitement had subsided, Xilun put down his cup and stood up.

"I'm going to see the teacher."

Yuri immediately stopped laughing: "Mr. Lund?"

"Um."

"Are you going over now?" Yuri glanced at the sky outside. "Things haven't been peaceful over there lately. A couple of days ago, someone was loitering around the area, acting like a patient, but not quite, acting suspiciously."

Xilun's eyes flickered slightly.

"understood."

Yuri had intended to send two men to accompany them, but upon seeing Xiren's eyes, he swallowed his words and instead said, "Then be careful yourself. The water in the South is much dirtier than in the North."

As Xiren put his hat back on and walked out the door, the noise behind him continued.

Some people had already started moving barrels of wine, some were shouting that they had to have a big celebration tonight, and others were watching Xilun's back from the doorway, their eyes filled with barely concealed awe.

The wind blew in from the street corner, carrying away the noise little by little.

Xilun walked slowly down the damp alleyways toward the southern suburbs.

The South District and the North District are completely different.

The walls here are older, and the cracks in the brickwork are always filled with black water that can't be washed clean. Faded sheets hang on the windowsill, and the entrance to the pharmacy is crowded with people coughing. The air is filled with an indescribable smell—damp, bitter, sweet, and a faint hint of decay.

This place looks lively, but it's actually full of cracks.

The Black Death Cult, on the other hand, prefers to hide in the cracks.

When they reached the entrance of a sloping alley, Xilun suddenly stopped.

Not far ahead is the old street that Lund often frequents.

There was a small stall selling hot soup on the street. Behind the stall, a man wrapped in a gray blanket was squatting, with a broken wooden box next to him. He looked like a patient who had come here to seek shelter from the wind.

His hair was disheveled, his back was hunched, and he would cough occasionally, as if his lungs were about to come out.

Very similar.

It's so similar that it's almost impossible to find fault with it.

But Xilun only glanced at it, and his eyes turned cold.

The soles of that person's shoes were too clean.

There was a faint medicinal smell on the edge of the gray blanket. It wasn't the fever reducer that poor people usually use, but rather the smell of some kind of disinfectant powder from the line of the Third Charity Hospital in the South District.

More importantly, the other person's breathing was too steady, so steady that it didn't seem like that of a real patient.

Xilun continued walking forward, as if he hadn't found anything.

The two gradually closed the distance between them.

Ten steps.

seven steps.

Three steps.

The man wrapped in a gray blanket had his eyelids lowered, seemingly staring at the soup pot, but his peripheral vision was constantly fixed on the doorway of the old house across the street. That was Lund's residence.

As Xilen passed by him, he slightly turned his head.

Beneath the gray blanket, a section of a cuff peeked out, the edge of the lining embroidered with an almost invisible closed eye mark in very fine black thread.

The Black Death Cult.

Xilun walked straight over without pausing.

The man seemed completely oblivious and was still pretending to cough, but after Xilun had taken a dozen steps, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

It felt like something cold brushed against his neck, so fast that he couldn't even pinpoint its source.

His hand trembled, and he almost knocked the wooden bowl over.

When I looked up again, Xilun had already walked into the courtyard across the street.

Inside the room, Lund was sitting at the table cleaning his gun.

Hearing the door open, he didn't even look up: "The door's unlocked, come in."

As soon as he finished speaking, he seemed to realize something and suddenly stopped moving.

When I looked up again, Xilun was already standing by the door, his black hat pressing down on his eyebrows and eyes, and his trench coat still had some undissolved morning mist on it.

Lund stared at him for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Alright, kid."

"teacher."

"Don't stand there pretending to be a blockhead, come over here and let me take a look."

Lund tossed the cloth aside, his gaze traveling from Xiren's shoulders down to his eyes. The more he looked, the deeper his gaze grew, until finally he slowly exhaled, "You really did succeed."

The lingering smells of old wood, alcohol, and engine oil in the room inexplicably eased Xilun's mind at that moment.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, his voice calm: "There are people watching you outside, from the Black Death Cult."

"Know."

Lund wasn't surprised at all. He reached for the bottle and poured him a drink. "He's been here since the day before yesterday. He's been replaced twice. This one is the most patient of them all."

Xilun glanced at him.

"Aren't you going to deal with it?"

"Deal with one, and a second or third will come along." Lund scoffed. "I'm actually hoping they keep an eye on things for a few more days. If they keep watching long enough, they'll eventually find something out."

He pushed the wine towards him, but his gaze slowly darkened.

"But this also means that we're probably both on their stupid list."

The wind outside blew through the old window, making a soft rustling sound on the window paper.

Xilun picked up his glass but didn't say anything.

He knew that the real trouble was only just beginning to approach.

The room was very quiet.

The wine on the table was steaming slightly. Saiwei brought over half a plate of freshly sliced ​​smoked meat from the kitchen and then quietly slipped out. Before leaving, he closed the door behind him, leaving only a small crack to let in a little bit of the outside air.

Lund leaned back in his chair, looking at Xilen with barely suppressed relief in his eyes, but also with a deep-seated weariness.

"I heard you've been pursued by Clement for almost a month."

"More than twenty days."

"Pretty much," Lund scoffed. "No different from a mad dog that's biting a bone and won't let go. You managed to come back alive and even kill him, you've got some skill."

Xilun took a sip of the wine, the warmth spreading through his throat, and he felt a little more relaxed.

"He's very strong."

"Nonsense, if a third-tier character wasn't strong, Tusol wouldn't have sent him to ambush you at sea."

Lund stared at him. "But you won't just because you're tough. Your aura is different now."

Xilun paused for a moment, then raised his hand.

A wisp of extremely thin, dark blue coldness slowly condensed in his palm, like water or mist, and the surrounding air silently cooled down.

The chill wasn't overt, but it quickly caused a layer of white frost to form on the surface of the wine glass on the corner of the table.

Lund watched this scene, a strange light flashing in his eyes.

"The profound Yin has truly been refined into the bones."

"Um."

"How are you feeling?"

"Clearer than before." Xilun slowly closed his five fingers, and the chill seeped into his flesh.

"It's not as simple as becoming stronger; it's like... a new set of rules has been added to my body. My breathing, blood, wounds, even the flow of water are all different from before."

Lund nodded.

"That's right. The third stage isn't about increasing your strength or making your moves more ruthless. It's about truly connecting with your extraordinary power. Before, you were the one driving it; now, it's shaping you in return."

As he said this, he suddenly frowned.

"However, you've rushed down this path too much; it's not quite right, the edges are a bit rough. Were you still recovering from the injuries you sustained when you were promoted?"

"Not done."

"I knew it." Lund sneered. "If you ever actually lay down and recuperated, I'd be surprised."

Xilun didn't reply, he just put the cup down.

"It won't stop in Tusol."

"I know."

"The Black Death Cult has its eyes on you too."

"I know."

Lund looked at him and suddenly sighed.

"You know everything, and you still manage to live like this, that's quite an achievement."

Xilun's lips twitched, which could be considered a smile.

The smile was faint, but compared to his usual cold and hard demeanor, it was quite rare.

When Lund saw this, his expression softened.

"I'm happy that you've reached the third rank, truly happy."

He said, "But precisely because you've become a Tier 3, you can no longer look at things with the same perspective as before. The people you meet, the things you know, and the places you go will all be different. If you still see yourself as a Tier 2 who fought your way up from the streets, you'll suffer a great loss sooner or later."

Xilun nodded: "That's why I came to find you first."

"Are you looking for a beating?"

"It counts."

Lund immediately laughed and slapped his hand on the table: "Okay, I like to hear that."

After he finished speaking, he got up, walked to the wall, and picked up the old gun.

The gun was dark and worn, bearing countless marks, having weathered many storms with him over the years.

Even just holding it casually in your hand, it exudes a sharpness that commands respect.

"The yard outside is spacious enough for us to mess around in for a while." Lund flicked the tip of his spear, his eyes gradually brightening. "Let me see if your spear has improved along with your current rank of three."

Xilun did not hesitate.

He stood up, unbuttoned his trench coat to reveal a neat, form-fitting black outfit underneath, and then unfastened the golden spear from behind his back.