Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

There is no past for Xilun.

He knew Lund didn't like others seeing him weak.

They especially dislike being seen by students.

The room fell silent again.

Xilun kept his eyes closed.

This time, he focused his attention even more deeply.

The spiritual core is like a black stone covered in frost, with fine cracks still on its surface, but a faint blue light is already flowing between the cracks.

He touched the cracks carefully.

The pain then intensified.

Hallucinations also began to appear.

Black seawater, a watertight net, Clement's sword, Oin's calm eyes, black liquid seeping from beneath the white walls of the Third Charity Hospital, and the sick father in the wheelchair.

Finally, there are the lights in the Brotherhood mansion.

Rhodes stood in the foyer, Kusso carried a gun, Rena leaned against the shadows, and Yuri laughed loudly, raising a wine glass.

Those images were like ropes, pulling him up from the depths of the cold sea.

Siren's breathing became slower.

The chill is no longer violent.

It flowed along the wound again and again, like a silent hand, feeling every crack, every bruise, and every piece of bone that had been forcibly twisted by the medicine.

After some time, the rain outside the window stopped.

The sky was still dark, but it was no longer the darkness of night.

A pale gray light peeked in from the edge of the window paper, illuminating the tiny dust particles in the room.

Xilun opened his eyes.

The dull pain in his chest had lessened considerably.

The sword intent deep within his left ribs remained, but it no longer scraped his bones as constantly as before.

More importantly, he was finally able to begin to control the new chill within his body, preventing the surroundings from frosting over with every breath.

This is a slight recovery.

Footsteps came from outside the door.

It's very light, yet it doesn't try to hide it.

Saiwei knocked on the door from the outside.

"Are you awake? If not, get up, the food is getting cold."

Xilun put away the booklet and put on his coat.

As soon as the door opened, a rush of cold air went out.

Saiwei stood at the door, holding a steaming earthenware pot in his hand. He was about to say something when he suddenly noticed the thin layer of frost on the floor inside the room, and his eyelids twitched.

"Did you sleep in an icebox last night?"

"I meditated for a while."

"meditation?"

Savi looked down at the ice crystals forming on the edge of the threshold, and his lips twitched.

"You guys who practice shooting all have the same problem with how you talk. You're clearly about to freeze the house to the ground, but you talk like you're just sitting there in a daze."

Xilun took the earthenware basin.

Inside was hot wheat porridge, sprinkled with a few grains of salt, and chopped smoked meat.

The scent is very ordinary.

But for someone who has just survived more than twenty days of fighting, this ordinariness seems all the more precious.

He carried the basin to the outer room.

Lund was already sitting at the table, his hair casually tied up, his complexion a little worse than last night, but his eyes were still very clear.

On the table were black bread, fried eggs, smoked fish, half a pot of hot tea, and a dish of pickled cucumbers.

The old refrigeration unit in the corner was making a creaking sound.

The outer shell of that thing was made of copper sheets and rivets, with a thin tube attached to the bottom and a hand crank next to it.

I've seen it a few times before when I came to Xilun. It's said to be an old item that Lund smuggled out of a military supply depot when he was young. It can preserve medicine and meat for a longer time.

It's clearly not working well now.

Water condensed on the copper pipe, and the gears would turn twice and then jam, like an old man struggling to breathe.

Savi put the plate on the table and kicked the cooler in frustration.

"It broke again last night; the two bottles of hemostatic medicine inside were almost ruined. The watch repairman said he needed to replace the condenser tube, and he immediately asked for thirty shillings."

Lund took a bite of bread and mumbled, "Don't fix it, let it spoil."

Saiwei sneered: "You're quite generous. It's the medicine that's spoiled, not the wine."

Lund pretended not to hear.

Xilun sat down and took a sip of hot porridge.

The warmth settled into my stomach, and I felt as if I had finally returned to shore from the seabed.

He glanced at the cooler in the corner.

"How cold does it have to be inside?"

Saiwei paused for a moment: "As long as the effects of the medicine are suppressed, it's fine, just don't let it freeze."

Xilun put down the earthenware pot and raised his hand to press it from a distance.

The room seemed unchanged.

Only the water droplets on the copper sheet of the refrigerator suddenly stopped sliding down.

A very thin layer of white frost spread along the copper pipe, avoiding the gears and valves, and gently spreading along the inner liner.

The old machine made two groaning sounds, as if it had finally unloaded some kind of burden, and the sound became much smoother.

Savi stared at it.

Lund also stopped chewing, his eyes twitching slightly.

A few moments later, Saiwei opened the small door of the refrigerator and reached in to explore.

Her expression turned strange.

It's cold.

Xilun picked up the porridge again.

"I'll check it again in half an hour."

"No, you..."

Savi didn't know what to say for a moment, and finally managed to say, "If you ever have nowhere to go in the future, you can repair refrigerators for nobles, and you definitely won't starve."

Lund finally laughed out loud, then coughed twice.

Xilun pushed the hot tea over.

Lund waved his hand, but still picked up the glass and took a sip.

"Don't get cocky." He looked at Xilun. "Freezing a refrigeration unit isn't a skill. When it comes to real combat, the enemy won't just stand there obediently letting you send their chill in."

"I know."

"you do not know."

Lund put down his cup, his voice deepening, "Your most dangerous weakness right now isn't your weakness, but rather the sudden surge in your power. When power increases too quickly, people tend to think that all problems can be solved with a breath of cold air."

Xilun listened quietly.

Savi didn't interrupt, but simply pushed the fried egg in front of him.

Lund watched him eat for a while, then suddenly asked, "How did you feel after meditating last night?"

"I've managed to control some of the chill."

Xilun said, "The injuries haven't healed yet, and there are cracks in the core of my spirit. The sword intent remaining in my left rib is temporarily frozen, but it will take time to completely wear it away."

"how long?"

"If there is no fighting, it will take ten days to half a month."

Lund frowned. "You think you have ten days?"

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

"perhaps."

The room fell silent for a moment.

The sounds of people gradually returned to the streets and alleys outside.

The charcoal seller's wheels rolled over the puddles, someone in the distance called out for hot soup, and a child cried and was scolded in a low voice by an adult.

Victoria woke up.

Black chimneys began to puff out smoke, damp brick walls absorbed last night's rain, and the smell of coal smoke and medicine mingled together, slowly drifting across the street corner.

Lund picked up a pickled cucumber and ate it slowly.

"Then you absolutely mustn't move around."

Xilun looked at him.

Lund said, "After dinner, it's time for morning exercises."

Saiwei almost spat out his tea.

"He just got back, and he's still injured."

"He needs to train precisely because he's injured," Lund said calmly. "If he doesn't train, are we going to wait until he gets cornered next time and then slowly work on his injury?"

Savi glared at him.

Lund ignored her and kept staring at Xilen.

"Can you move?"

Xilun put down the empty bowl.

"able."

Lund nodded.

"Then eat faster."

Savi muttered a couple of curses under his breath, but still got up and went to the kitchen to bring out another bowl of porridge, which he then placed heavily in front of Xilun.

"Finish eating first."

Xilun paused, staring at the bowl of hot porridge piled almost overflowing.

"Thanks."

Saiwei turned his face away.

"Don't thank me, thank your teacher for not being so poor that all you have left are wine bottles."

Lund looked up: "Those bottles can be sold for money."

"Shut up."

The table was unusually lively.

Xilun lowered his head and continued eating.

The porridge was piping hot, the smoked meat was a bit salty, and the dark bread was as hard as a rock.

But his stomach gradually warmed up.

This dilapidated house was drafty and damp, with uneven table corners and piles of broken gun barrels and rags against the walls.

It is more relaxing than the long table at Tusol Manor.

Because here, no one uses a smile as a weapon.

No one considered hosting a dinner party as setting a trap.

After finishing breakfast, Lund picked up his old gun and walked towards the yard.

"Come."

Xilun then got up.

The courtyard gate opened, but the morning mist had not yet dissipated.

A damp, cold air rushed in, carrying with it the smell of earth, charcoal smoke, and the bitter odor emanating from a distant pharmacy.

Under the eaves, the old refrigeration unit was still running smoothly.

The white frost on the copper pipe was fine and even, not a bit more or less.

Saiwei glanced back, then looked at Xilun in the courtyard.

She suddenly realized that this young man was truly different.

The former Xilun was like a freshly sharpened knife, sharp, silent, and carrying a chilling aura that could cut people in two at any moment.

Now he's more like a lake in the depths of winter.

The surface is quiet.

Hidden beneath is a current so deep it could freeze you to death.

In the courtyard, Lund slammed his gun to the ground.

"The first exercise in the morning is to practice walking, without using brute force."

Weston Station.

"Yes."

"Secondly, prevent the cold from spreading. If you freeze the yard and it cracks, you'll have to pay for it yourself."

Xilun glanced at the wet patches on the ground.

"As much as possible."

"What I want is not as much as possible."

Lund raised the tip of his gun, his eyes sharpening once more.

"What I want is to achieve it."

The courtyard is not big.

From the east wall to the west wall, it's only a few dozen steps at most.

The ground was uneven, three bluestone slabs were cracked, and there was a collapse near the old tree roots where rainwater had accumulated, forming a shallow puddle.

Lund managed to turn this small courtyard into a battlefield.

"Circle around the tree."

He stood in the courtyard, an old gun folded across his arm, his voice cold.

Xilun didn't ask, but his feet moved.

step.

Two steps.

Just as his body was about to naturally accelerate, Lund's gun barrel suddenly swept across, striking the outside of his calf with a sharp crack.

The force was not strong.

But the shots were extremely accurate.

Xilun's steps faltered slightly, and he almost lost his breath.

"slow."

Lund said, "I'm having you practice your footwork, not run away from home. A third-tier physique isn't something you use to crush the details of your footwork."

Xilun adjusted his center of gravity and continued circling the tree.

The old tree's withered branches drooped down, its bark blackened by the rain, and a few drops of rain still clung to the branches.

Every time Xilun passed by, the hem of his clothes would stir up a gentle breeze.

The wind moves, and the water droplets move.

Just as the water droplets were about to fall, a chill instinctively rushed out.

哢.

A drop of water freezes into an ice pellet in mid-air, then bounces off the ground upon landing.

Lund frowned.

"receive!"

Xilun didn't stop walking, but he lowered his breathing by half an inch.

The chill retreated into my lungs.

The second drop of water fell, and in the end, it was just water.

Snapped.

It fell into the mud.

Lund nodded.

"Again."

For a full half hour, Xilun simply circled the trees, turned around, stepped back, and moved to the side in the yard.

There was no Crimson Star, no Thunderclap, no Waterline, and no sharp sound of the Golden Spear cutting through the wind.

The only sound was the soft rustling of boot soles on the wet ground.

At first, Xiren thought the training was too light.

He soon realized he was wrong.

You can't use your third-tier physique to forcefully suppress it, you can't let the cold leak out, you can't aggravate old injuries, and you must place every step in the most suitable position to fire your weapon.

This is harder than fighting head-on with someone.

When he's pushing himself to the limit, he can leave the pain and exhaustion behind.

But now, all the details are forced to be laid bare.

The injury to his left rib will slow him down when he turns around.

The old wound on his right shoulder would make it difficult for him to lift his gun for a moment.

The cracks in the core of one's spirit will sting when the cold tightens too much.

He must acknowledge these problems.

Then tame them little by little.

Lund stood to the side, his eyes sharper than the tip of a gun.

"My left foot is too heavy."

"Don't let your back die."

"Just because the wound is there doesn't mean you should avoid it. The more you fear aggravating it, the more the enemy knows where to stab."

"stop."

Xilun stopped.

Sweat was already forming on his forehead.

The sweat that had just seeped out was frozen into fine frost by the cold on his body, and then he forcibly melted it away.

When Lund saw this, a barely perceptible look of surprise flashed across his eyes.

He knew that Xilun's Xuan Yin Breathing technique would become very powerful after its breakthrough.

But when you actually see it, it still seems a bit outrageous.

Those with third-order aberrations will all experience some kind of noticeable change in their bodies.

Some people have skin as hard as iron armor, some have twisted and grown bones, some have a sense of smell, vision, and speed far exceeding those of ordinary people, and some have grown organs that are even closer to those of monsters.

The changes in Xilun, however, were very quiet.

Not aggressive or menacing.

It's not intimidating or alarming.

But every breath felt like a bargaining game with the surrounding temperature.

If he wanted, the dampness would obey him, the chill would obey him, and he could even press the blood back into his own wounds.

Such a third order is very rare.

It's also very dangerous.

"Get the gun."

Lund said.

Xilun raised his hand.

The golden spear leaned against the wall, its shaft trembled slightly, as if drawn by an invisible waterline, and fell into his palm.

Lund said nothing, but thrust his spear forward.

That shot wasn't fast.

But the angle was awkward, specifically targeting the unflattering part of Xilun's right shoulder.

Instead of blocking directly, Xilun stepped back diagonally, lowered the butt of his gun, and flicked the tip of his gun upwards to clear Lund's gun barrel.

clang.

The sound of metal clanging was short and sharp.

Lund's second shot has been fired.

Stab the left rib.

Xilun's gaze remained unchanged, but his back suddenly slumped, and in the instant his old wound throbbed with pain, he took half a step forward.

The golden shaft slid past Lund's spear tip, the chill contained within the shaft, not escaping in the slightest.

Lund's eyes lit up.

"Yes, that's it. Don't hide your injuries, use them to trick him."

As soon as he finished speaking, the third shot went straight for his forehead.

The shot suddenly became much faster.

Xilun did not retreat further.

He seemed to see Clement's rapier again before his eyes.

Sharp, calm, with the precise control of a third-tier expert over life and death.

This time, however, he was not driven to the brink of despair.

He simply raised his left hand.

Bring two fingers together and gently tap the side of Lund's gun tip.

哢.

A speck of white frost crept up the tip of the spear.

Lund flicked his wrist, instantly dispelling the frost from the old gun, but he himself took a step back.

He stared at the tip of the gun, remaining silent for a long time.

Saiwei, who had been leaning against the door watching the commotion, now stood up straight.

That old gun wasn't an ordinary piece of iron.

Having followed Lund for so many years, I've been soaked in medicine, quenched in fire, and repaired with all sorts of strange and unusual materials.

In ordinary cold weather, it's not only difficult to freeze it, but even to leave blank spaces on it.

But just now, when Xilun touched the tip of the spear with only two fingers, an extremely fine crack appeared.

Not deep.

But it truly exists.

Lund raised his hand and touched the crack, then suddenly cursed, "You good-for-nothing!"

Xilun backed down.

"I've stopped."

"Even after you've stopped exerting force, it's still like this?"

Lund frowned even more, then, as if he had thought of something, he turned to look at Savi and said, "Go and get that piece of scrap metal."

"Who are you ordering around?" Saiwei said irritably.

Even so, she turned and went into the house, and soon dragged out a piece of black steel about half an arm's length long.

The object looked like a shaft removed from a steam engine; its surface was mottled, and it was quite heavy.

Lund threw the scrap metal into the yard.

boom.