Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Savi said urgently, "But the Black Death Cult is no ordinary enemy! There are more and more people watching you these days, and your cough is getting worse. You know yourself that your old injury can't be left untreated for long."

Lund picked up the copper plate from the table.

The closed-eyes pattern appears cold and sinister in the dim light.

George's inscription is like a scar that has been half-scraped away by time.

"I'm old."

He spoke calmly.

Saiwei's eyes reddened.

Lund stroked the edge of the copper sheet.

When I was young, I thought my father was cowardly and that he had been hiding his whole life.

Later, I spent half my life proving I wasn't a coward—boxing, killing, winning fame, winning so much that underground boxing rings, nobles, and the military all came after me. Finally, I injured my left arm, and only then did I understand why he had bowed his head back then.

He coughed twice.

Saiwei hurriedly stepped forward, but was stopped by him waving his hand.

"My father wasn't afraid; he was protecting me."

The only sound in the room was the wind.

Lund stared at the map, his gaze growing increasingly intense.

"The Black Death cult may not be the kind of cult I thought it was."

Savi's voice trembled: "What do you mean?"

"It's like a piece of skin."

Lund said, "The Mercy Physicians Society is a facade, the Third Charity Hospital is a facade, and the Black Death Cult is a facade. What lies beneath these facades, I haven't seen yet."

He paused for a moment.

"But I have a vague feeling that it will be some kind of terrorist organization that I never expected."

Savi's face turned pale.

"Then we absolutely cannot investigate!"

Lund looked up at her.

"Savi, does it cease to exist just because I don't check?"

Saiwei was speechless.

Lund placed the copper sheet back on the table.

"It would be better if I died."

"Young Master!"

"listen to me."

Lund's voice softened, "What I'm really worried about is that it will implicate Celan."

Saiwei was stunned.

Lund looked out the window.

The old tree in the yard swayed gently in the wind, its bark cracks resembling the blue veins on the back of an old man's hand.

"He is my disciple."

Lund said, "I'm old now, and I don't have the energy to fight anymore. Many times, I'm just holding on by sheer willpower. But Siren is different."

There was a sense of pride in his eyes.

It's subtle, yet very real.

"He may surpass me in the future, and surpass many others."

Savi whispered, "You've always valued him highly."

"certainly."

Lund smiled. "As my student, I am proud of him."

After he finished speaking, he fell silent again.

The smile slowly faded.

"So there are some roads I have to tread for him first. If there's a mud pit ahead, it's better for this old man to get stuck than for him to slip and fall."

Finally, tears streamed down Saiwei's face.

"You're always like this, and the old man used to be the same way. You always say nice things, that you're doing it all for others, but in the end you leave yourself behind."

Lund looked at her, his gaze softening.

"If I survive."

He whispered, "I will be proud to avenge my father."

Saiwei covered his mouth.

Lund picked up the copper piece and put it in his inner pocket.

"If I die..."

He looked at the old gun by the wall.

"Then let me be buried with my father."

Saiwei closed his eyes, tears sliding down his fingers.

He seemed to sense a desolate sense of death spreading through him, an emotion so profound that he could no longer control himself.

Young Master Lund is determined to die, and no one can stop him!

At dusk, Siron returned from the old fraternity guild hall.

Rhodes had placed several copies of the breathing techniques kept by the board on his desk in his study.

Iron Spine Breathing Method.

Breathing in the Red Furnace

Tidal Muscle Binding Technique.

Grizzly Battlefield Breathing.

The names are all good.

The content is fairly clean.

Xilun flipped through the books one by one and found that these breathing techniques were indeed more complete than those on the black market, especially the "Tidal Tendon Binding Technique," which had unique features in the stretching, storing, and explosive power of the large tendons, and seemed to have some connection with his Water Dividing talent.

But it was only a very small part of it.

They are not tall enough.

It's like being able to repair a house but not rebuild its foundation.

Rod stood beside the table.

"Mr. Midas also said that the Daewoo Dojo holds an outer sect martial arts competition on the seventh of each month. Third-tier extraordinary practitioners can directly meet with the head of the inner sect if they submit a request."

Xilun stopped turning the page.

"The seventh day?"

"the day after tomorrow."

Rod said, "In addition, we found out about the relationship between Fowles and Miss Risa. There are many rumors circulating, but no concrete evidence."

Risa.

The name made the temperature in the study drop a little.

Xilun closed the "Tidal Muscle Binding Technique".

Risa died a long time ago.

Back then, he didn't have the power he has now, nor did he have these complex identities.

But the dead do not completely disappear from the chessboard as time passes.

They will become old grudges, rumors, a lingering stain in the ledger, or a thorn in someone's side.

What is Fowles' personality like?

"Proud, protective, and belligerent, but not brainless."

Xilun nodded.

If Fowles and Risa truly had a past relationship, his visit to the Da Yu Dojo might not have been solely for seeking Buddhist teachings.

It was also to probe for a potential landmine.

Rod added, "The armed insurgents have sent a formal invitation. Albert wishes you to see the leader."

Xilun looked up.

"time?"

"Undecided. They said it depends on your arrangements."

This is a very humble stance.

Therefore, it is not simple at all.

The fact that the armed insurgent party is willing to use the word "leader" is itself a bargaining chip.

They knew he needed the gate to the upper town.

He also knew that after reaching the third rank, the Brotherhood alone would not be able to support his cultivation.

Everyone was passing the rope.

Some ropes can pull people ashore, while others have stones tied to the other end.

Xilun stood up and walked to the window.

Night was falling in the northern district.

The footsteps of the street patrol passed by rhythmically, and the noise from the distant tavern was kept low; no one dared to make a loud noise near the Brotherhood's mansion.

This is the change brought about by the third order.

Silent order.

Silent fear.

"gentlemen."

Rhodes whispered, "Do you want to see the armed insurgents first, or go to the Daewoo Dojo first?"

Xilun looked out the window.

Tusol is waiting for him to make a mistake.

The Black Death Cult is watching Lund and him.

The grey top hat was hidden in the fog.

The armed insurgent party handed over its leader.

The Daewoo Dojo may hold breathing techniques, or it may hold old grudges.

The gates to the Upper Town remain closed.

Every road is dirty.

But he can't stand still.

"Let's go to Daewoo Dojo first."

Rhodes was slightly taken aback.

Xi Lun said, "If the armed insurgents want to pave the way for me, they will wait. It's different at the Da Yu Dojo. They're having a martial arts training session the day after tomorrow. If you miss it, you'll have to wait another month."

What if Fowles makes an attack?

"Then it depends on what he wants."

Xilun turned around, his voice calm.

"If he demands an explanation, I'll give him one. If he resorts to violence, I'll show him the difference between a third-tier and a second-tier fighter."

Rhodes lowered his head.

"clear."

Xilun picked up the Tidal Muscle Binding Technique again.

"Also, send a letter to Mr. Lund."

"content?"

"Tell him I'm going to the Da Yu Dojo the day after tomorrow. Don't go deep into the Black Death Cult alone."

Rod hesitated for a moment.

"The teacher might not listen."

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

"So let's add one more sentence."

He looked at the breathing techniques books on the table.

"If he insists on investigating, at least wait until I get back."

Rod agreed and turned to leave.

Only Xilun remained in the study.

He sat back down at the table and opened the breathing exercises.

As the words came into view, my muscles and bones subtly adjusted accordingly.

He did not intend to start cultivating immediately.

It's just disassembly.

See how these methods transfer energy, how to strengthen tendons, and how to make the body more like a bow when exerting force, rather than a spear that can only thrust straight forward.

Night deepened.

A chill ran quietly through his bones.

The necklace box sat on the corner of the table, the moon-white pendant remaining silent through the velvet cloth.

The church bells in the distance rang ten times.

Xilun turned a page and suddenly looked up.

A raven paused for a moment on the roof ridge outside the window.

There was no red line on her foot.

There were no obvious markings.

But its eyes, looking into the study, were too quiet.

Xilun twitched his fingertips slightly.

A drop of water vapor condenses into an ice needle.

The next instant, the raven flapped its wings and flew into the night fog.

The ice needle remained suspended in mid-air, not being fired.

Xilun stared at the direction it had disappeared in, his eyes slightly cold.

Another pair of eyes appeared in Victoria's fog.

He withdrew the ice needles and lowered his head to continue reading.

The road ahead must go on.

Their eyes always have to be gouged out.

But now is not the time.

……

The fog slowly rolled in from the street corner, and the smell of coal smoke was broken up by the fog, sticking to the collars and eyelashes of pedestrians.

As the carriage traveled along the stone-paved road, its wheels rolled over puddles, splashing up tiny specks of mud, like a string of crushed black beads.

Siren sat in the carriage with a visiting card on his lap.

The visiting card was made of stiff paper, with the copper-colored pattern of the Daewoo Dojo embossed on the edges. The front had Fowles' name written on it, with neat handwriting, yet it exuded a sense of aloofness and formality.

Rhodes had no companions.

This time, Xiren only brought a cane, a short gun, and a large golden spear hidden inside his trench coat.

The Daewoo Dojo is located in the most bustling area, a wide-open space bordering the North and South districts and the suburbs.

There were fewer taverns and gambling dens there, but more training grounds, blacksmith shops, butcher shops, and small shops selling medicinal wine and bandages.

Tall, strong young people can be seen everywhere on the street. Some are bare-armed and wear only a short jacket in the cold wind. Their shoulders and backs are hunched and their breathing is long and deep. They are obviously people who have been training their bodies for many years.

The carriage stopped in front of the stone steps.

Xilun got out of the car and looked up.

The main gate of the Dayu Dojo is extremely tall, with two black stone pillars standing on the left and right. There are no ornate reliefs on them, only fist marks and palm prints that have been polished to a shine by the passage of time.

A dark brown wooden plaque hangs above the door, with four large characters that look as heavy as iron.

Daewoo Dojo.

The sound of even breathing came from inside the door.

Each inhale and exhale is like the tide crashing against the shore.

Xilun presented a visiting card.

The gatekeeper disciple, who had been indifferent, took the document, glanced at it, and then paused slightly when his gaze fell on Xilun's face.

Nowadays, in downtown Victoria, there are few people who haven't heard of the "Golden Knight".

He fought his way back from the sea outside White Cliff Town alone, advanced to the third rank in battle, and killed Clement, the captain of the Tusor Guard.

These rumors had been told so many times in the pub that it was hard to tell whether they were true or false.

Some people say he split the ocean tide with a single shot.

Some people say he can freeze human blood into blue slush.

Some say he is not human, but an evil spirit of ice that crawled back from the seabed.

The gatekeeper suppressed the probing look in his eyes and bowed, saying, "Mr. Xilun, the academy master is giving a lecture today. Please follow me inside."

Thank you.

Xilun walked through the gate.

It was quieter inside the dojo than outside.

The front yard was paved with dark gray stone bricks, surrounded by wooden stakes, stone locks, iron rings, and several bronze stoves about half a person's height, with medicinal charcoal burning inside, and a faint bitter smell wafting in the air.

Many disciples stood by the wall, dressed uniformly and with solemn expressions.

They didn't make a loud noise, nor did they deliberately look at Xilun.

As Ke Xilun walked by, many people's breathing became slightly disordered.

Third-order extraordinary.

This identity itself is like a sword drawn from its sheath.

Even without waving it, it's enough to send chills down your spine.

The disciple led him to a spacious lecture hall in the backyard.

The lecture hall has windows on all four sides, and a thick wooden floor is laid in the center, where dozens of people are already sitting cross-legged.

Most of those sitting here are not ordinary apprentices; at the very least, they are first-order baptists, and there are more than ten second-order extraordinary individuals.

At the very front, Fowles stood behind a long table.

He was taller than Xilun had imagined, with broad shoulders and a thick back. His short black hair was mixed with a few strands of gray, his face was square, and his eye sockets were slightly deep. He looked like a piece of iron that had been immersed in cold water for many years.

His gaze swept over Xilun, but did not linger for long.

"sit."

The voice wasn't loud, but it silenced all the subtle noises in the lecture hall.

Xiren sat down in a seat towards the back.

Fowles continued his lecture.

Many people believe that once you reach the third tier, power is everything.

He placed his hands on the edge of the table, his knuckles thick and his palms calloused. "This is wrong."

"Second-tier Rippers tear their own flesh apart to allow external forces to enter. Third-tier Aberrants, on the other hand, must make the external forces a part of their bodies. This process is not simply about becoming stronger, but about becoming more dangerous."

No one spoke in the lecture hall.

Fowles spoke very slowly, as if pressing each word into a wooden board.

What are mutants most afraid of?

He looked at the crowd.

Someone whispered, "Out of control."

Fowles nodded.

"Loss of control is merely a consequence. The root cause is imbalance."

"If flames enter the body but there are no bones or muscles to support them, they will burn through the internal organs."

When cold enters the body, but there is no blood or energy to restrain it, the spirit will be frozen.

When animalistic instincts enter the body, but there is no will to control them, one becomes a beast in human skin.

When he spoke of the chill, his gaze seemed to briefly sweep over Xilun.

Xilun remained unmoved.

Fowles continued, "Therefore, in the third stage of cultivation, one should not rush to pursue more power, but rather first stabilize the body. The significance of breathing techniques is not just about absorption and explosive power, but also about letting you know which path power should take, where it should stop, when to withdraw, and when to release."

Xilun listened quietly.

This content is very basic.

However, having a foundation does not mean it is useless.

He rose through the ranks from the abandoned mine by sheer luck, willpower, resources, and the extreme environment.

It's like pushing a wrecked ship across a reef during a storm; the ship may not sink, but the keel may still be cracked.

What Fowles was talking about was the keel.

The big muscles, spine, internal organs, and spiritual core.

Each word was like a nail, hammering into the gap that Xilun had previously vaguely perceived.

He didn't take notes.

Just listen.

The chill in my body flowed quietly as Fowles narrated, reflecting itself inch by inch along the seams of my bones, fascia, and blood vessels.

Those old wounds, sword intent remnants, and medicinal residues that he had forcibly suppressed were now like stones hidden at the bottom of the water, their outlines revealed by the morning light.

The lecture lasted for two hours.

Finally, Fowles picked up the warm water on the table and took a sip.

That's all for today.

Everyone stood up and bowed.