Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The courtyard gate was pushed open, and a cold wind rushed in.

The sky outside was overcast, the clouds hung low, and the old tree in the corner of the courtyard had withered branches, with traces of last night's dampness remaining on the ground. The two men stood one behind the other, their gun tips slightly lowered, neither of them making a move immediately.

Saiwei stood under the eaves with his arms crossed, watching this scene, and a look of something he hadn't seen in many years actually appeared in his eyes.

"start."

Before Lund could finish speaking, he had already rushed out.

Old wounds, age, stiffness in his left arm... all these things seemed to disappear the moment he drew his gun.

With a flick of the spear tip, the air in the courtyard seemed to be ripped into a sharp line, heading straight for Xilun's throat.

Too fast!

Xilun shifted his feet, raising his golden spear horizontally. The spear shaft barely blocked the cold glint of light when, in the next instant, Lund's wrist changed angle, the spear thrust changing from a straight thrust to a slant, sliding up Xilun's spear shaft like a venomous snake, aiming straight for his eye socket.

Xilun's pupils contracted slightly, a chill ran down his spine, and he took a half step back, the butt of his spear swung up instantly!

boom!

The two guns collided in mid-air with a muffled thud.

The water droplets were shaken from the ground and bounced slightly.

Lund grinned. "Not bad."

As soon as he finished speaking, he fired another shot.

This shot was heavier than the last. Even though it was just the tip of the gun falling, it felt as if a whole shadow was pressing down on him.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, exerting force in his palm, and the golden spear suddenly shot forward, the tip of which flashed a dark red in mid-air.

Red star!

The wind in the courtyard seemed to have been suddenly pierced.

A glint of light flashed in Lund's eyes. He suddenly lowered his old gun, the shaft grazing the red glow of the Crimson Star. Then he rammed into Xilun's center, his elbow striking Xilun's chest with a powerful thrust.

boom!

Xiren was knocked back half a step, his boot leaving a deep mark on the wet ground.

"Too direct," Lund said coldly. "Red Star isn't just all murderous intent; there's no foreshadowing. You're a gun, not an axe for chopping wood."

Xilun exhaled a puff of white breath, did not argue, and turned his wrist to continue.

This time, his gun was no longer solely focused on speed; instead, it incorporated a layer of concealment.

The spear tip appeared and disappeared intermittently, and a chill spread along the shaft. The dampness in the courtyard seemed to be held by an invisible hand, flowing with his every step.

Lund's gaze became more serious.

He fired three shots in quick succession.

The first shot breaks the opponent's momentum, the second shot seals the throat, the third shot doesn't pierce, it's just a point of contact.

But that's precisely the most ruthless thing about it.

Xilun felt that the gun intent he had just mustered was almost dissipated on the spot when the other party casually struck his most vulnerable spot.

His heart sank, and he simply suppressed the chill, raising the entire golden spear as if it had been quenched by ice water, carrying a cold and heavy aura!

The two men's guns flashed, and they moved back and forth in the small courtyard.

It's like thunder one moment and like water the next.

Saiwei stood under the eaves, so engrossed in watching that he forgot to breathe.

Xilun's gun was ruthless, accurate, and fast. His third-tier physique and the chilling aura of new life made every strike of his gun carry an oppressive force.

Krund is older, slippery, and more toxic.

He didn't try to outmaneuver Xilun with brute force, but instead always anticipated where that force was headed and then stabbed it in the most awkward and tricky spot, like an old knife, the blade not new, but always knowing where to cut the most painful spot.

In the blink of an eye, the two had exchanged dozens of blows.

A light sheen of sweat appeared on Xilun's forehead, but his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

He hadn't encountered someone who could control himself purely through marksmanship in a long time.

It wasn't that he was weaker or lower in rank, but rather that Lund's understanding of guns was still superior to his, perhaps even more than that.

Another head-on collision.

Xilun's wrist went numb, and the tip of his spear slipped an inch.

Lund did not pursue, but simply put away his gun and frowned at him.

"stop."

Xilun's breathing became slightly heavy, and he put away his gun and stood still.

"Did you notice?" Lund asked.

"I can see where the difference is," Xilun said.

"explain."

"I can use Akahoshi, but I haven't really fully grasped the variations behind Akahoshi yet."

Xilen looked at the tip of his gun, his voice calm, "If I were to have murderous intent now, the gun would be exposed too soon. You can see it, so you can disarm it."

Lund nodded, a hint of satisfaction finally appearing on his face.

"He's not completely stupid."

He slammed the old gun to the ground with a dull thud.

"Red Star is a deadly strike, not just a show. But the more deadly the strike, the less you can let people see when you really want to kill."

The art of spearmanship, in essence, boils down to four words: concealment, borrowing, deception, and breaking.

You only learned the final cut before, so when you fired the gun, everyone knew you were going to kill. That was enough against the weak; not enough against the truly cunning.

After saying that, Lund suddenly raised his gun and began to demonstrate each move.

It wasn't as fast and menacing as before; instead, it was played extremely slowly.

But the slower it goes, the more terrifying it becomes.

He showed Xilun everything, from how Chixing should build up his momentum, how to feint with the tip of his spear, how to use his footwork to deceive the opponent's center of gravity, when to use his wrist to borrow force, and even what kind of response he should make if his opponent leans to the left, retreats to the right, rams into him, or raises his spear to block.

"This move is called Concealing the Edge."

"This move involves borrowing the shoulder."

"Don't rush here, wait a bit and let him bring it up himself."

"Remember, a gun isn't inanimate, and the Red Star isn't a single move. It's a line, a line that can be hidden in the fog, or in your retreat, in the chaos, or in your wounds."

Xilun watched and tried it at the same time.

Gunfire erupted again in the courtyard.

This time, it's no longer a confrontation, but more like a teaching process.

Lund's voice was low and short, as if he were scraping away what he had kept buried in his bones over the years and stuffing it into Xilun's hands.

The wind blows through the withered branches.

Gray clouds loomed over the city.

The master and apprentice walked back and forth in this small, old courtyard, over and over again.

Lund's chest heaved noticeably and his left arm began to stiffen before he finally stopped, supporting himself with his gun, a fine layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

Siron immediately put away his gun.

"teacher."

"Don't give me that look." Lund waved his hand, took a breath, and said, "He's not dead yet."

As he spoke, he pulled a small booklet with worn-out edges from his pocket and tossed it directly to Xilun.

Xilun reached out and caught it.

The booklet was thin, and the cover was old and frayed. When you opened the first page, it was full of dense handwriting, and there were traces of repeated revisions in many places. It was as if someone had polished it little by little after countless battles, injuries, and replays.

Lund stared at the booklet, his eyes momentarily glazed over, before returning to calm.

"These are my reflections on all the changes I've witnessed in Red Star over the years," he said. "They're not worth much money, but they're invaluable. Take them."

Xilun gripped the booklet, his fingers tightening slightly.

Lund grinned, a smile that looked both tired and relieved.

"Take it; it might be of some help to you."

"This is the lesson I've learned in my entire life!"

The courtyard fell silent.

In the distance, the cries of a soup vendor echoed from the street, the wind carrying the scent of charcoal smoke and medicine.

Under the eaves, Saiwei had turned his face away at some point, wiped his eyes with his hand, and muttered under his breath, "Old man, so pretentious."

At noon, the two sat back down at the table and chatted while eating.

Lund didn't talk much more about guns, but instead shared some fragments of what he knew about the third-order world.

Who can be messed with, and who should be avoided for now? After reaching Tier 3, the real danger often lies not on the streets, but in those seemingly respectable places; some doors cannot be entered by fighting, you need someone to guide you; some resources cannot be bought with money, you must first prove that you are qualified to touch them.

Xilun listened very attentively.

He knew almost nothing about these things before.

When it got dark, Siron didn't go back to the Brotherhood, but stayed at Lund's place.

The room was still the same as before; the bed was a bit hard, the window cracks were letting in some drafts, and there were gun cleaning cloths and empty wine bottles piled up in the corner.

But when he lay down, his body was unusually relaxed.

It was very quiet at night.

Only the wind blew slowly under the eaves, occasionally making a soft creaking sound as the wooden planks loosened.

Xilun closed his eyes, but did not fall asleep immediately.

The daytime gunfire, Clement's dying words, Oin's eternally serene face, the Black Death Cult's shadowy presence on the streets of the South, and Yuri's mention of Chairman Midas...

These thoughts flashed through my mind one by one, like a newly unfolded map.

He knew very well that the third tier was just the beginning.

Next, at least four things must be addressed as soon as possible.

First, consolidate.

He was promoted too quickly and injured too badly. Although his new strength is fierce, it is not stable enough.

The Xuan Yin Breathing Technique requires practice, the Water Dividing Talent needs to be readjusted, and the body of the aberrant needs to have its boundaries thoroughly understood.

Second, breathing techniques.

At the second stage, one can still advance by being ruthless, hardworking, and relying on resources. However, from the third stage onwards, having only one Xuan Yin Breathing Technique is no longer enough.

He needs a breathing method that is truly suitable for the three levels, or at least, he needs to know where to find it.

Third, the world.

What exactly is a third-tier extraordinary being? Where is their circle? What are the rules? Who controls the resources? Who sells connections? Who has access to higher-level intelligence? He knows too little about these things right now.

Fourth, Shangcheng District.

That place was like another Victorian shrouded in mist, where the powerful, associations, secret rituals, real deals and real dirty work were all unavoidable.

If he wants to continue upwards, he will eventually have to find the way there.

Thinking of this, Xilun slowly opened his eyes.

A light rain started falling outside the window sometime earlier, the raindrops tapping on the glass with a very soft rustling sound.

He stared at the blurry watermarks, his eyes calm.

O'Ing will not give up.

Even the Black Death wouldn't do that.

But similarly, he won't stop.

As the night deepened, the room gradually fell into silence.

After a long while, Xilun finally closed his eyes, his breathing slow and even, like a river quietly gathering strength in the cold night.

……

It rained all night.

By the latter half of the night, the sound of dripping water from the eaves had become as faint as needles, falling into the broken wooden bucket under the window, one after another, cold and slow, as if someone were counting the time in the dark.

Xilun sat on the bed, not asleep.

He crossed his legs, his back pressed against the drafty wall, with the thin booklet on his lap.

The booklet was not opened.

Every movement of Lund's gunplay during the day still lingers in my mind, like narrow lines of fire in the dark night, flashing occasionally before disappearing into deeper darkness.

Conceal, borrow, deceive, sever.

The four words are very simple.

But when it comes to guns and life and death, it's not something that can be explained in a few words.

Xilun closed his eyes and breathed steadily.

The Xuan Yin breathing technique operates slowly.

There was no longer the hunger that used to draw in the cold from the outside world, nor the excruciating pain of having one's bones and blood torn apart and reshaped during promotions.

A chill naturally arose from his body, first in his lungs and internal organs, then in his flesh and blood, and then gradually spread along the seams of his bones, like a river in the depths of winter quietly freezing over where no one could see it.

He could clearly feel his own injuries.

The flesh and blood had closed up where the crossbow had pierced his right shoulder, but there was still a slight tearing sensation deep inside.

The remaining sharpness of the blade that pierced his left ribs with Clement's rapier had long been frozen, but being frozen did not mean it had disappeared.

That sword intent was like an iron spike embedded in flesh; the slightest movement of the breath would cause a sharp, piercing pain.

And the chest.

Deeper still.

The facilitator was hastily prepared, and the advancement ceremony was almost completed under duress. The newly generated power, though fierce, was not docile; it would occasionally stir up icy tides in his meridians, as if dragging him into a silent, frigid sea.

Xilun did not suppress it too much.

Lund said something during the day.

"When you get a new gun, don't rush to polish it until it shines. First, figure out where it cuts your hand."

This sentence sounds like it's about a gun, but it's also about his current physical condition.

Xilun inhaled slowly.

The rain outside the window paused slightly.

The dampness in the room silently condensed, turning into a tiny water droplet in front of his fingertip.

The water droplets hung suspended, trembling gently.

The next instant, a layer of white frost appeared on the surface of the water droplet.

The white frost contracted inward, and the transparent water droplet turned into a round ice bead, suspended in the dim light, like a star without light.

Xilun opened his eyes.

The ice bead landed in my palm without breaking.

He looked at it, his fingers slightly clenched.

哢.

The ice bead cracked.

It wasn't crushed, but frozen simultaneously from the inside out, with cracks emerging from the middle, revealing six fine patterns.

This is the Xuan Yin Breathing Technique after reaching the third level.

It's not just cold.

It's not as simple as freezing water into ice.

It began to touch upon "change" itself.

Once the chill seeps in, blood will slow down, muscles will stiffen, steel will become brittle, gunpowder will become dull, and even the force that the opponent has concentrated in their attack will be bitten off little by little.

Xiren recalled Clement's extraordinary rapier.

That sword had been with Clement for many years, killing many people, but in the end, it was corroded and cracked by the coldness in his hands.

But the cost is also considerable.

Xilun looked down at his left hand.

There is a faint bluish-black line on the palm.

Those were marks left after catching a sword with bare hands.

If it weren't for the Xuan Yin Cold Force protecting his flesh and blood the instant he completed his advancement, that sword would have directly pierced through his bones and penetrated his brow.

Xiren did not relax because of the victory.

Clement is of the third order.

But he's not the strongest among the third tier.

It is not the monster that Victoria truly stands on high.

He was merely a knife in the Tusol family's guard.

If the knife is already so sharp, what must the person wielding it be like?

Xilun exhaled slowly.

A thin mist escaped from his lips and settled on the floor beside the bed.

The dampness between the wooden planks froze silently, producing a very faint crackling sound.

Just then, a cough came from next door.

The cough was very suppressed.

Lund seemed to be deliberately suppressing his voice into his chest, but the dullness of old wounds still couldn't hide from Xilun.

Xilun listened intently for a moment.

The coughing stopped.

Then came the sound of water being poured, the sound of a wooden cup hitting the table, and Lund muttering a curse.

"Damn rain."