Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The temperature inside seemed to drop a little.

It's not entirely because of West London.

Savi also fell silent.

The name Black Death meant more than just enemies to this house.

It is also connected to Lund's father's past, to the bronze piece engraved with the broken name of George, and to the blood and gunshot wounds that were hidden more than 20 years ago.

Lund looked at the map, his gaze deepening.

"Don't touch the main body here for a while."

Xilun said, "We can continue to investigate the pharmacies, warehouses, and outer transit points."

"It's okay to investigate, but don't go too much yourself."

Lund looked up at him. "They've got their eyes on you, and on me too. Wherever you go, it could become a trap. A third-tier being can suppress many things, but the Black Death Cult never lacks disgusting methods."

Xiren recalled the lesions in the old St. Mary's Bell Tower.

I recall the bulging, eye-like black spots on the doctor's body.

I recalled the black liquid seeping from the section of sacred bone in the wooden box.

He nodded.

"I'll have Rhodes slow down the investigation."

"Slow down, not stop."

Lund said, "Stop. They'll know you're scared. And being scared will only excite them more."

Xilun glanced at Lund.

The teacher must have suffered too many losses in his life, so every word of advice he gave was tinged with bitterness.

Lund ignored his gaze and continued, "The second thing is, after reaching the third level, don't put all your energy into one breathing technique."

"Do I need a new breathing technique?"

"It's necessary, but there's no rush to practice haphazardly."

Lund tapped the table.

"The higher you go, the less breathing techniques become simply a form of exercise. They will affect your physical development, mental stability, physical abnormalities, and even your ability to advance further in your career."

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

"Is there a problem with the Xuan Yin Breathing Method?"

"That's not a problem."

Lund said carefully, "At least for now, it's very strong, stronger than I've ever seen. But it's too biased. The chill seeps into your bones and into your mind; the longer you stay, the colder you'll feel."

Suddenly, Saiwei chimed in from the side.

"He's cold enough right now."

Lund glanced at her.

I wasn't talking about temper.

Saiwei twitched the corner of his mouth and stopped talking.

Lund continued, "The human body can be cold, but the heart cannot remain cold. If the core of the spirit is enveloped by an extreme force for a long time, it is more likely to fall in one direction when it encounters pollution, the remnants of evil gods, or strong emotional impacts."

Xilun immediately recalled the distorted version of himself in the inner vision during his promotion.

Blackish-blue frost, a monstrous body, and eyes so cold they were almost empty.

It's not as simple as an illusion.

That was a possibility born from the interplay of the effects of medicine, injuries, strength, and some kind of inner shadow.

He didn't speak.

Lund didn't press further, only saying, "So you need balance. You can continue practicing the Great Thunder Breathing Technique; it can help stabilize your body and generate bursts of energy. But it's not high enough; at most, it's a supplementary technique."

Where can I find more advanced breathing techniques?

"Noble families, the military, churches, associations, private clubs in the upper city, and some old, rotten secret societies."

Lund chuckled after he finished speaking.

"Don't they all sound like people you shouldn't mess with?"

"None of them can be bought with money," said Xilun.

"If you can buy it with money, you'd better not practice it."

Lund points to the location of the city on the map.

The map was not fully drawn; only a blank area was left at the edge.

"The Upper City is the real threshold. Tier 3 might inspire awe in the Lower City, but if you want to move up, you can't get past it."

Xilun stared at the blank space.

He had heard of Victoria's Upper Town far too many times.

The powerful, members of parliament, high-ranking members of the pharmacists' association, military elites, esoteric transactions, real auctions, and even a single permit that can determine the fate of many in the lower city.

But it always remained like fog.

You can see the outline, but you can't touch the edge.

"How do we get in?" Xilun asked.

Lund shook his head.

"It's not that you walk in, it's that you're allowed to go in."

Xilun frowned.

"Who gave permission?"

"There are many kinds of people."

Lund said, "Sometimes it's an invitation from a nobleman, sometimes it's an association qualification, sometimes it's a referral from a club, and sometimes it's because you've done something that they consider valuable."

He looked at Xilun.

"You are valuable now, but not safe enough."

Xilun understood.

People in the Upper City would be interested in someone who can suppress pollution, advance rapidly to the third tier, has the Brotherhood of Steel behind him, and is involved in the Black Death Cult and the Tusol internal strife.

But interest does not equate to acceptance.

They will observe.

They will test the waters.

We will assess whether he is a tool, a hidden danger, a commodity, or someone we can cooperate with temporarily.

"So, is it best for me to do nothing now?" Xilun asked.

Lund scoffed.

"You seem like the kind of person who can do nothing at all?"

Xilun did not answer.

Lund tossed the broken gun head back onto the table.

"You need to do three small things."

"First, heal your injuries and stabilize your third-tier power. You need to be able to control the release and release of your chilling aura, instead of scaring everyone so much that they can't sleep every time you make a move."

"Second, set rules for the Brotherhood. You're no longer an ordinary gang leader, and your subordinates can no longer act like ordinary gangs, attacking each other indiscriminately. The more chaotic a third-tier power is, the easier it is for others to find an excuse to attack and wipe it out."

"Third, find an opportunity to get the Upper City to notice you, but not to immediately swallow you up."

Xilun seemed to be deep in thought.

opportunity.

Tusol is not a good opportunity.

The Black Death is too dangerous.

The armed insurgents will take most of the credit.

Pharmacists' Association, Third Charity Hospital, pollution treatment, missing aristocratic patients...

Many thoughts tangled in my mind, but no answer immediately formed.

Lund did not urge him.

What Xilun needs now is not commands, but to learn to see the chessboard anew as a third-order player.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Three light and one heavy.

It's not a secret code among acquaintances.

Saiwei stopped sewing.

Lund looked up.

Xilun had already stood up.

He walked to the door but did not open it immediately.

The person outside was breathing rapidly, their shoes were muddy, and they smelled faintly of the sea and coal smoke.

"Who?"

"The Southern Outpost, Mr. Yuri sent me."

The voice outside the door was very low: "Send a message to Mr. Celen."

Xilun opened the door.

Outside the door stood a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, his face blue from the cold, his hat pulled low, and an oilcloth bag in his arms.

When he saw Xilun, he was stunned at first, and then quickly lowered his head.

"gentlemen."

"explain."

The boy swallowed hard.

"Mr. Yuri said that the North District mansion is safe, and Mr. Rhodes has kept the news under wraps, only saying that you are recuperating in the South District. Mr. Kusso has tightened all patrol lines, and those small gangs that came to probe outside haven't dared to make a move for the time being."

He paused, then added, "Also, the people of Tusol sent a formal letter of condolence, saying that Captain Clement's death was a regrettable misunderstanding caused by White Cliff Town, and hoping that both sides would exercise restraint for the time being."

Lund chuckled from inside the room.

"Misunderstand."

The laughter was cold.

The boy didn't dare to answer, but continued, "The armed insurgents have also sent people to the South District stronghold to ask when it would be convenient for you to see Ms. Colleen."

"Anything else?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, then took out the oilcloth bag from his pocket.

"This was sent by Ms. Rena. She said the prisoner woke up once, bit his tongue but didn't die, and managed to get a word out of him."

Xilun took the oilcloth bag.

Inside was a small note.

The handwriting is Rena's.

very short.

"The employer is not Tusol. The guard spat out 'Grey Top Hat' before he fell unconscious. Rhodes is investigating."

Xilun's eyes darkened slightly as he looked at those three words.

Grey top hat.

He had never heard of that name before.

But this means that besides Tusor, there was a third party involved in the robbery of the Moon Phase Clock in Baiya Town.

Some people don't want him to advance to the third rank.

Moreover, they had made arrangements even earlier than O'Indone.

Lund clearly realized something as well.

"Another hand has been added."

Xilun put the note away.

The boy asked in a low voice, "Sir, Mr. Yuri asked when you will return to the base. The brothers all want to see you."

Xilun did not answer immediately.

If he goes back now, he can reassure people and also tell the entire North and South Districts that he is indeed alive and has already established himself at the third rank.

But if he shows up too soon, all eyes that are on him will be drawn back to him.

He needs more time.

It will take at least a few days.

"Tell Yuri I'm not returning to the South District outpost for the time being," Celen said. "Let him continue drinking, but not too much. Keep all celebrations indoors, don't go out."

The boy nodded.

"Tell Rhodes that the Brotherhood will be closing its three lines starting today. All new recruits will be checked three times before being assigned to the perimeter. Patrols are not allowed to provoke the Tussor Guards, nor are they allowed to touch the Third Charity Hospital's partner pharmacy."

"Yes."

"Tell Kusso that gunman training should include gas protection, pollution prevention, and nighttime evacuation drills. Don't just practice shooting."

"Yes."

"Tell Reina to continue investigating the Grey Hats, but don't delve too deeply into it herself."

The boy quickly memorized it.

After thinking for a moment, Xiren added, "See you in three days with Colleen. Let Rhodes decide the location; not the old printing plant."

The boy looked up at him for a moment, then immediately looked down again.

"clear."

Xilun picked up a piece of black bread and half a smoked fish from the table, wrapped them in paper, and handed them to him.

"Eat before you leave."

The boy was stunned.

"Sir, I..."

"There are people watching outside. You came empty-handed, but you should leave immediately with a message; it's too conspicuous."

Xilun's voice was calm. "Eat slowly, and when you leave, take the back alley and don't look back."

The boy's eyes reddened slightly, and he quickly took the food.

"Yes, sir."

Savi glanced at Xilen, said nothing, and got up to pour the boy a bowl of hot tea.

The boy sat on a small stool by the door, wolfing down his food, but trying not to make too much noise.

Lund rolled up the map.

"You're starting to act like a third-tier player."

Xiren returned to the table.

"That doesn't sound like a compliment."

"That's not true to begin with."

Lund said, "The most troublesome thing about the third order is that you can't just worry about how you live."

Xilun looked at the refrigeration unit.

The white frost remains stable.

Even the most stable frost needs someone to watch over it constantly.

Otherwise, if it gets too cold, the medicine will spoil.

If it's not cold enough, the medicine will spoil.

The same goes for strength.

The same applies to power.

After finishing his food and hot tea, the boy by the door stood up, bowed respectfully, and then left through the back alley as instructed by Xilun.

Xilun did not go to deliver it.

He stood by the window, looking at the street corner through the paper windowpane.

That Black Death cult sentry is still there.

The location has simply changed again.

The other party was like a nail with exceptional patience, driven into the fog, neither in a hurry nor moving, revealing nothing.

Xilun suddenly raised his hand.

A drop of water fell from the eaves.

The drop of water silently turned in mid-air, passed through the window crack, and fell into his palm.

The water rippled gently, reflecting the blurry figures of people at the street corner.

Lund walked up behind him.

"Should we pull it out?"

Xilun looked at his reflection in the water.

"No rush."

"Keep it?"

"Keep it."

Xilun slightly closed his palm, and the drop of water turned into thin ice, which he then melted again.

"Let him see that I'm recovering from my injury, see that I haven't gone back to the North District, and see that everything here is as usual."

Lund snorted.

"Using my dilapidated house as bait?"

"The teacher kept him around the day before yesterday, wasn't that the same thing?"

Lund glanced at him.

"You learn very quickly."

Celen did not deny it.

At the street corner, the sentry suddenly shrank his neck, as if he felt a chill, but he didn't know where the chill came from.

He looked up at Lund's house.

The window paper was dark and gloomy, and nothing could be seen clearly.

He only saw a wisp of white smoke rising from the chimney, and heard the faint, steady creaking of an old refrigerator coming from inside the house, along with the low cough of an old man.

Everything was ordinary.

It was as ordinary as any damp, cold afternoon in this city.

The sentry withdrew his gaze, continuing to clutch the broken bowl, hunched over against the wall.

Inside the room, Lund sat back down at the table.

"Continue practicing shooting this afternoon."

Savi frowned: "Still training?"

Lund said, "What else can we do? Let him sit there and get moldy?"

Xilun withdrew the water droplets, turned around, and picked up the golden spear.

There is still a dull ache in my left rib area.

My right shoulder is still not fully relaxed.

The core of its spirit still has cracks.

Tusol, the Black Death, the Armed Riots, the Grey Hats, the Upper City—every line stretches out in the fog.

But his mind was very calm at that moment.

Because he finally understood where he was standing.

The third stage is not the end.

It's not a safe high platform either.

It's more like a door.

Behind the door, there was a stronger wind, colder rain, and a sharper knife.

Xilun gripped the gun barrel, a flash of coldness in his palm disappearing in an instant.

Lund saw it and nodded in satisfaction.

"This time was good."

"Only by keeping the chill in check can the gun be hidden."

He picked up the old gun, got up, and walked into the yard.

"Come, let me see if you, a newly promoted third-level cultivator, can even master the simplest half-step retreat technique."

The courtyard gate opened again.

Fog rushed in.

Xilun followed him out, his gun tip lowered, his steps steady.

A bell rang once in the distance.

It's unclear which church it came from, or who it was meant for.

Victoria continued to turn slowly through the gray fog.

The two spears in the courtyard clashed together once again.

The gunfire in the courtyard didn't stop until evening.

The fog was thinned by the gun barrel, then slowly gathered again in the damp air after the rain.

Xilun stood beside the old tree, his right hand holding a golden spear. The old wound on his left side ached faintly after moving around for a long time, as if a thin thread was buried deep in his flesh and blood, gently pulling at it with each breath.

Lund sat under the eaves, his old gun across his lap, looking even worse than he had in the morning.

But his eyes were very bright.

Taking half a step back is not about running away.

Lund coughed, his voice a little hoarse. "It's about drawing out the enemy's killing intent, then letting it fail. You retreated too cleanly three times just now, as if you were afraid of dying. A true retreat is when the enemy thinks he has captured you."

Xilun nodded.

His sleeves were damp from the rain and mist, and tiny water droplets clung to the ends of his hair.