Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

"I once said that once you have mastered all three levels of cultivation, you will receive a special opportunity."

"Body, breath, spirit?"

"That's one way to understand it."

Baoshu's voice remained gentle.

"You now have two levels that are close to perfection, even far exceeding the ordinary third level. But the third level is still a bit lacking."

Xilun was taken aback.

The wind and snow flowed outside the dilapidated hall, but his breath caught in his throat.

Not quite right.

These three words were light, yet they felt like a stone rolling down from a snow-capped mountain, making one's chest feel heavy.

He understood what Baoshu meant.

I'm not good enough yet.

Perhaps it requires reaching the third-tier extreme realm.

The Yi Jin Jing (Muscle/Tendon Changing Technique) has been perfected, transforming Qi into its essence.

Perhaps it is necessary to truly fuse all the forces pieced together within the body into one.

But the Black Death Cult won't wait for him.

Lund wouldn't wait for him either.

Those in the lower town who had their bread gnawed by sick rats, drunk medicine, and dragged their sick bodies to the camp would not wait for him.

Xilun paused for a moment, then lowered his voice.

"I may not have time."

Baoshu did not speak.

Xilun looked up at it.

"There is a plague and evil gods outside, and someone wants to use my teacher as a vessel."

I've just advanced to the third rank, my injuries haven't healed, and my breathing technique isn't complete. If I had waited until I reached perfection before coming here, I might already be dead.

His tone was calm.

This is not a complaint.

It wasn't a plea for pity.

He was simply stating a fact.

Baoshu remained silent for a long time.

So long that the wind and snow outside the palace seemed to have faded away.

Xilun heard his heart pounding, heard the Styx Breath flowing deep within his lungs, and heard a faint, chilling sound emanating from the crack in his spiritual core.

Finally, the branches of the precious tree drooped gently.

"I am about to enter my next slumber."

There was a hint of weariness in his aged voice.

"This sleep may last a long time. Perhaps when I wake up again, I will no longer see you, nor will I see anyone else who came after me."

Xilun's heart stirred slightly.

Baoshu continued, "Rules are for things that last. But things are unpredictable, and there are times when even things that last can be broken."

A petal falls from the branch.

The petals were pale gold with almost transparent edges. They spun slowly in mid-air before finally floating down to Xilun.

Xilun reached out and caught it.

The moment the petal fell into the palm of the hand, intricate words lit up on it.

It was neither the common language of Victoria nor any language he had seen in the Link family's old books.

But when his mind touched the petals, the words suddenly transformed into images that directly entered his mind.

A figure sat in a cave deep in the mountains, breathing with his eyes closed.

Beneath the skin, blood and qi flow like golden threads.

The pores close inch by inch, keeping sweat, toxic fog, pestilential wind, and dust out of the body.

Another figure stood in the rotting river of corpses, letting the black water reach his chest, yet his body remained completely untouched by filth.

Further on, the scene becomes even more somber.

That person ingested medicinal stones, exotic beast bone powder, metallic spirit sand, and cold jade marrow liquid, and even transformed extremely poisonous substances into a furnace within his body.

A flawless golden body!

The four words resonated like a golden bell, penetrating deep into the spirit of West Asia.

It closes the pores, constricts the flow of Qi, and digests everything that can be digested.

When external forces enter the body, they suppress, temper, and refine it.

External pathogens cannot enter; if they do, they will be transformed into food.

Xilun's breathing gradually became heavier.

This is not simply a defensive method.

It's more like a road that forges the body into a closed world.

Once mastered, plagues cannot easily invade, curses and poisons cannot easily take root, and external forces cannot easily tear open the gaps in the body.

However, its resource requirements are also frighteningly high.

The materials required to enter the first level alone are enough to bankrupt an ordinary third-tier player.

There were several of these things that Xilun had never even heard of.

He focused his mind, and the flower petals in his palm transformed into a pale gold mark, slowly seeping into his skin.

Thank you.

The leaves of the precious tree swayed.

"You don't need to thank me. Giving you the method doesn't mean you can master it. It can save you or drag you down. If you're greedy and impatient, you might end up turning yourself into a piece of dead iron before you even achieve your golden body. There are precedents for that."

Xilun said, "I will remember."

"You always say that."

Baoshu seemed to sigh softly.

Xilun wanted to ask more questions, but suddenly noticed that the branches and leaves of the treasure tree paused slightly.

The gentle energy within the hall seemed to have been touched by something.

Baoshu said, "Someone is approaching."

Xilun's eyes suddenly turned cold.

He turned around.

Outside the ruined hall, deep in the wind and snow, a figure slowly walked up the old steps of the abandoned temple.

The man was wearing dark training clothes, his shoulders covered in snow, but he didn't look disheveled at all.

Black boxing gloves covered his hands, the dark metal at the knuckles gleaming with a blood-like old color in the cold light.

Fowles stopped in front of the broken door.

He glanced at Baoshu, then looked at Xilun.

That face, which usually appeared gentle and composed, was devoid of a smile at this moment.

"I see."

"Fowles said softly."

"You seem to have a unique advantage here, possessing an opportunity that even the dojo hasn't truly figured out."

A chill ran down Xilun's spine.

It wasn't because of the wind and snow.

Rather, it was because when Fowles stood there, the air in the entire ruined temple seemed to be compressed.

Fourth tier!

The Witcher.

This isn't a Tier 3 like Clement, nor is it a captain who relies on potions to fight for his life.

This is a monster that has already crossed the first threshold of disaster.

Fowles looked at Baoshu, a complex emotion that was hard to hide deep in his eyes.

"The dojo has guarded this wondrous place for so many years. The disciples have bled, practiced their martial arts, and been buried in the snow-capped mountains, yet they have never heard of a precious tree here that can talk to people."

He then looked at Xilun.

Xilun offered no explanation.

Explanation is meaningless.

His voice remained calm.

But that calm was deeper than any roar.

"Silen, it's hard for me not to connect these things together."

The old voice of the precious tree rang out behind Xilun.

"It seems he harbors murderous intent towards you."

Xilun didn't turn around, but whispered, "Can you help me?"

Baoshu remained silent for a moment.

"I am about to fall into a deep sleep."

A leaf has fallen from the branches.

The leaves were not as soft as the previous petals; instead, they were as thin as paper, with pale gold veins and the outline of a seated Arhat faintly visible on their surface.

"Let me use the last bit of my spirituality to help you on your way."

The leaves drifted lightly into Xilun's sleeve.

"This is called Luohan paper."

Baoshu's voice grew softer and softer.

"Possessing the full power of an Arhat's attack."

"This is my final gift."

As soon as she finished speaking, the precious tree's branches and leaves slowly closed up.

The golden texture gradually faded.

The tree seemed to have transformed back into an ordinary ancient tree, sinking into a long silence.

Xilun did not say thank you again.

He knew that saying another word at this moment would be a waste.

Fowles entered the ruined hall.

"Are you finished talking?"

Xilun looked at him, his palm quietly tightening around the shaft of the golden spear.

"The owner wants to kill me here?"

Fowles shook his head.

"I want to know the truth."

Xilun asked, "What if I don't give it to you?"

Fowles's gaze finally turned cold.

"Then I'll get it myself."

Xilun did not wait any longer.

The snow beneath my feet suddenly burst open, the water vapor condensed into ice, and I was pushed backward as if by the wind and snow.

The next moment, Fowles appeared where he had been standing.

The black boxing gloves landed gently.

There was no roar.

Only the stone platform silently sank three inches, and cracks spread like a spider web across half of the ruined hall.

Siron's pupils constricted slightly.

He turned and rushed out of the dilapidated hall, disappearing into the wind and snow.

A deep voice came from behind me.

"You can't escape."

The wind and snow were tearing at my ears.

Xilun did not turn back.

He shattered the old steps outside the abandoned temple with a single step, his body propelled downwards towards the hillside. A chilling aura surged from the soles of his feet, solidifying the loose snow into a hard, slippery surface, and he sprinted down the snow slope almost skimming along it.

He is very fast.

With a third-tier body, the Water-Dividing Talent, and the ability to borrow power from the chill, he is enough to make ordinary extraordinary people unable to even touch his back.

But the aura behind him kept closing in.

Not urgent.

Not chaotic.

Like an old lion that has locked onto its prey, it doesn't need to run at all. It only needs to maintain a sufficient distance, allowing the prey to reveal its weaknesses in fear and exhaustion.

Xilun's eyes were calm, but his heart sank little by little.

The difference between the fourth and third tiers is not just in strength.

That was a more complete form of oppression.

Clement's sword was fast and ruthless, but it could still be judged, misled, and held back by his injuries.

Fowles is different.

His every step seemed to be on some unshakable rhythm, undisturbed by the wind and snow, and slowed down by the terrain.

Xilun suddenly turned to the side, his palm facing backward in a loose fist.

The ice below the snow slope cracked open, and dozens of ice spikes shot out simultaneously from beneath Fowles' feet, their tips black and carrying the chilling, corrosive energy of the newly condensed River Styx.

Fowles did not dodge.

He simply lifted his foot and landed.

boom!

The ice spikes were all shattered.

The chilling energy from the Styx settled on his trousers and boxing gloves, leaving only wisps of dark blue mist that were quickly dispersed by a layer of dark golden, film-like luster.

Xilun felt a chill run down his spine.

The Witcher.

The body is like precious material.

Upon reaching the fourth rank, the physical body is no longer just flesh and blood, but a weapon repeatedly forged by certain methods and resources.

Ordinary poisons, cold, plagues, and curses would probably have a hard time truly penetrating the body.

"A good tactic."

Fowles' voice came through the wind and snow.

"A chilling aura conceals corrosive properties, yet the killing intent is suppressed to a very low level. An ordinary third-tier cultivator might already be affected."

Xilun did not respond.

He suddenly rushed into a forest of icy blue stones.

The stone forest is narrow and chaotic, with ice rocks intersecting like knives. When the wind blows in, it creates a piercing whistling sound, which can easily disrupt one's sense of direction.

He changed direction repeatedly in the stone forest, flicking tiny ice needles from his fingertips.

The ice needles did not shoot at Fowles, but instead embedded themselves in different stone walls, leaving behind a faint trace of coldness.

Dozens of chilling auras intertwined, quickly slicing his true aura into chaotic fragments.

At the same time, he closed his pores, restrained his energy, and tried to conceal himself with the most superficial method of the newly acquired flawless golden body.

That method is far from being effective.

However, the concept of "closure" acted like a narrow door, allowing him to briefly suppress the chill that was leaking out.

The footsteps disappeared.

The wind and snow covered everything.

Xilun clung to the back of an ice rock, his breathing nearly stopped.

A few breaths later, Fowles entered the stone forest.

He didn't look around.

There was no rush to search.

Just stand still and close your eyes.

Through the ice and rock, Siren saw Fowles' chest rise and fall slightly.

The next instant, an invisible shock emanated from his body.

The snow in the Stone Forest fell softly.

All the ice needles stuck in the stone wall shattered almost simultaneously.

Xilun's pupils contracted slightly, and he flipped to the side without hesitation.

boom!

The ice rock where he had been hiding was punched through.

The force of the punch did not leak out as a violent shockwave, but instead penetrated into the rock body with extreme concentration, causing the entire piece of ice rock to shatter into powder from the inside.

If he had been even half a breath slower, his sternum would have suffered the same fate.

Fowles withdrew his fist and looked at Siren, who had rolled to the ground.

"You're very good at hiding it."

"In the lower city, this can really save lives."

Xilun used the tip of his gun to push off the ground and retreat.

"The curator doesn't seem to just want to ask questions."

"Questioning should also be done in a way that renders the other party unable to resist."

Fowles walked forward.

His boxing gloves were covered in icy powder, which was quickly blown away by the wind.

"Sirlen, I don't want to make things too ugly. Tell me what you took from Wonderland and what happened to Risa."

Tell me your relationship with that tree. If the answer satisfies me, I might spare your life.

Xilun stared at him.

"Risa died from her own choice."

Fowles paused slightly.

Those words were like a fine needle, piercing his calm expression.

"You shouldn't have killed her. She was special, innocent, a treasure sent to me by God. If it weren't for Xiuna, I would definitely have married her!"

Fowles lowered his voice.

The wind and snow passed between the two.

Fowles looked at Siren, and finally, a genuine look of pain appeared in his eyes.

"She shouldn't have died at the hands of someone like you."

Xilun said slowly, "Someone like me?"

"Treat all relationships around you as stepping stones, turn every danger into a bargaining chip, drag others into your own vortex, and then say that you just want to survive."

Fowles raised his fist.

"Of course you want to live, everyone wants to live, and Risa wants to live too."

Xilun was silent for a moment.

Risa's face was already somewhat blurry.

Moreover, Risa's death was not caused by him.

But he also knew that, in Fowles' eyes, the reasons were never as clear as the corpse.

"So you must avenge her."

"Yes."

Fowles did not deny it.

"We must also retrieve any secrets that may belong to the dojo."

Xilun said softly, "Then there's nothing more to say."

Before he could finish speaking, he fell backward.

Beyond the ice and rocks lies a crevice in an underground river, covered in snow.

Xilun crashed through the ice and sank into the dark river.

A biting cold wave enveloped my entire body.

As soon as the water touched his skin, his senses immediately began to unfold.

The underground river is long and narrow with a rapid current, leading to the icy lake below.

This is his terrain.

But that's not enough.

The next moment, a muffled sound came from above the river.

Fowles did not go into the water.

He stood on the bank and punched the river.

The force of the punch penetrated the water and flowed downwards.

The underground river seemed to have been struck by an invisible giant hammer, and the water pressure suddenly exploded.

Xilun felt a tightness in his chest, and a tearing pain shot through his old wound. He was swept by the water against the stone wall.

He forcefully parted the water, condensing it into an arc-shaped ice shield in front of him.

boom!

The force of the punch shattered the ice shield, but the remaining power still struck his shoulder and back.

Xilun felt a sweet taste in his throat, and blood spilled from the corner of his lips, which was immediately washed away by the river.

He didn't stop.

Using that impact, it slid even deeper into the underground river.

A continuous barrage of attacks came from above.

One punch.

Two punches.

Three punches.

Each punch was unpretentious, yet it precisely struck his path across several meters of water.

The riverbed shook, and gravel rolled down.

Siren was nearly buried underwater several times.

He gritted his teeth, his body circulating the Xuan Yin coldness and the breath of the Styx River alternately, suppressing his internal organs to the quietest state.

Cold, dark, oppressive.

He had been hunted by Clements for more than twenty days underwater and was already used to this suffocating feeling.

But Fowles put even more pressure on him.

That wasn't hunting and killing, it was grinding.

It was as if no matter how much he struggled, he would eventually be pulled out of the water little by little by those fists.