Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Lady Black Raven looked at him as if he were a vessel about to break.

"Your body is indeed being pushed too hard."

she said.

"I warned you, blowing the whistle will make you lose yourself."

Xilun's eyes moved.

Lady Black Crow tilted her head slightly.

"regret?"

Xilun could not answer.

Regret?

If he could do it all over again, would he take that ticket to the Sea of ​​Chaos?

Will they listen to Lund and wait until later?

Will Saiwei stop him?

A deep silence descended upon my consciousness.

Then he saw Lund nailed to the clock tower.

Seeing that the man was clearly about to die, she still forced a smile and asked him if he was afraid of dying.

The answer then becomes meaningless.

As if reading his thoughts, Lady Black Crow said calmly, "Foolish."

She paused, then added.

"But it's still pleasing to the eye."

She raised her hand, and a black feather fell from her fingertips.

Black feather gently touched Xilun's brow.

A cold and unfamiliar force seeped in, temporarily suppressing the decay remaining in Nurles and the black wound torn open by the bone whistle.

Xilun's breathing finally became a little easier.

But it's only a little bit.

Those injuries were too severe.

Ms. Black Crow is not a doctor.

It is not some merciful god.

She can kill the carriers of the plague and tear apart the shadows of the plague, but she cannot bring a human back from the brink of death unharmed.

Besides, the transaction is already over.

Xilun vaguely understood.

I am sliding into some abyss.

The physical pain gradually subsided.

This does not mean things are getting better.

Rather, it is perception that is declining.

He could no longer hear the rain.

I can't hear the wind.

They couldn't even hear their own breathing.

The rooftop in sight darkened.

The figure of Lady Black Crow also became blurry.

But the memory becomes clear at this moment.

It was as if someone had opened the old box he least wanted to touch in his life and laid out the moldy things inside in front of him one by one.

He saw the stormy nights of his childhood.

That was a long time ago.

So long that he thought he had forgotten.

The cramped room was dark, with only the occasional flashes of lightning outside illuminating the mold on the walls.

He huddled in the corner of the bed, his body burning up and his lips cracked.

The mother slammed the door shut as she entered, bringing in a body soaked in cold rain.

She looked disheveled.

It's also very beautiful.

That kind of beauty once gave young Siren unrealistic fantasies.

He thought she would hug him.

Even just touching your forehead.

But she didn't.

When she saw the sick child, her eyes first showed impatience.

She nudged his arm, gesturing for him to get out of bed.

Xilun fell to the ground.

My forehead accidentally hit the wooden board, and my ears started ringing.

Rain dripped from her skirt and landed on his face; it was cold.

Every word was like a whip.

Young Siron did not know who his father was.

I don't understand why I was born wrong.

He only knew that he was in pain, very cold, and longed for someone to tell him that it wasn't like that.

But nobody said anything.

No one came.

Rainwater dripped into the wooden basin.

The mother's scolding faded into the distance.

He curled up on the ground, gritting his teeth and refusing to cry.

Since then, Xilun has learned many things.

I've learned to read people's expressions.

I learned to be patient.

I've learned to swallow my grievances.

I've learned to be independent.

I also learned to become stronger.

He walked into the fight club, and when he took his first punch, the sound of rain that night echoed in his mind.

When he practiced breathing techniques and his lungs felt like they were on fire, the sound of rain that night echoed in his mind.

Even as he was being hunted by Clement for over twenty days, covered in wounds yet still trying to crush the Cold Bone Crystal, the sound of rain from that night still echoed in his mind.

It turns out he had never forgotten.

He just hid it too well.

He hid it so well that he even thought it wasn't a wound, but part of the bone.

I had never remembered it before.

Now that the pain is close to death, he finally takes out this memory to chew on again.

It's so bitter it's almost astringent.

It's so real it's laughable.

Some people use their childhood to heal their entire lives.

Some people, however, have to spend their whole lives healing from their childhood trauma.

He is probably the latter.

His entire life was, in fact, a testament to that stormy night.

To prove that I am not a failure.

To prove that I can live.

To prove that you are worthy of being recognized.

To prove that I am not just a sickly person who only drags others down.

In the end, he still lay on a dilapidated bed, his body cold, listening to the rain, just like that neglected child from years ago.

Xilun suddenly felt a little tired.

It's not physical fatigue.

It was weariness that welled up from the depths of one's soul.

He wanted to sleep for a while.

Just for a little while.

Before his consciousness completely sank, he seemed to hear the soft rustling of raven feathers coming from the window.

Lady Black Crow stood there, still staring at the black aura on her arm.

Her expression was indifferent.

But unlike at the beginning, he was not as nonchalant.

"Another one..."

She whispered two words.

The next instant, the sound was swallowed by darkness.

Xilun completely lost consciousness.

After an unknown amount of time, the rain outside the old courtyard in the southern suburbs stopped.

The sky was still dark.

Thick clouds hung over downtown Victoria, like a blackened iron plate.

Not a single bird chirped around the old courtyard.

No homeless people passed by.

Even the rats that usually scurried along the base of the wall had vanished completely.

There were many footprints on the muddy ground outside the courtyard gate.

There are military boots.

There are leather boots.

They have standard-issue long boots from the government security team.

There are also extraordinary footprints that are deliberately stepped on very lightly, yet still leave a half-inch mark.

They've all been here.

They were all parked outside the courtyard gate.

No one dared to go in.

Because a black crow was perched on the lintel.

The black crow quietly preened its feathers.

Occasionally, I would look up and glance at the people outside the door.

Everyone who is seen by it will subconsciously take a half step back.

Even if they don't know what it is.

Nobody dared to gamble.

A day is enough time for many things to ferment.

The ruins of the old textile factory have been completely sealed off.

Homeless camps have been designated as the most dangerous contaminated areas.

Outside the blockade, some bystanders went blind, some went insane, and some were covered in bluish-black spots. They were sent to the church's isolation ward in fear.

But more people survived.

It was precisely because they survived that they were able to bring the news out.

The third-tier Golden Knight, Siron, stormed into the camp.

Lund was associated with the Black Death cult.

The fourth-order high priest Eli died.

The evil god's descent failed.

And most importantly.

A deity appeared.

It does not belong to the seven great gods.

It does not belong to the legitimate authority of the duke.

An unknown being, symbolized by black crows, night, and scarlet fear, manifests a mythical form in Xilun and confronts the plague god Nurrus head-on.

The news spread like wildfire through the shadows of Victoria.

No newspaper dared to write about it.

No government announcement dares to mention it.

But in the back door of the tavern, in the noble carriage, in the church confessional, in the private drawing room of the tycoon, and in the basement of the gang, everyone was talking in hushed tones.

God Wars.

Even if it's just two limited projections of gods.

Even if it is just the incompletely born evil god, Mist Shadow.

It was enough to make all the third-tier, fourth-tier, and even the rumored fifth-tier extraordinary beings feel suffocated.

The chessboard of Victoria was lifted at one corner by an unseen hand.

The shadow of that hand fell upon Siren.

No one slept all night at the Brotherhood mansion in the North District.

Rhodes stood by the window of the second-floor study, holding a newly delivered secret report in his hand.

He had already crumpled the paper into wrinkles.

He always maintained a butler-like calmness, with a neat collar and a restrained tone, like an old clock that never makes a mistake.

But at this moment, his face looked very pale.

Outside the study, Yuri, several key gunmen, and a messenger from the southern stronghold were waiting.

No one dared to speak loudly.

The corridor was filled with the smells of tobacco, damp clothes, and a stifling anxiety that seemed to be solidifying.

Yuri finally couldn't resist and pushed the door open to come in.

Still no news?

Rhodes did not turn around.

"have."

Yuri's eyes lit up, then sank back down.

Because Rhodes' tone didn't sound like good news.

Rhodes handed over the secret report.

Yuri took it, but after reading only a few lines, the color drained from his face.

"An old textile factory...a war of gods?"

His voice was hoarse.

"Who the hell wrote this insane nonsense?"

No one answered.

Because everyone knows that the secret report that reaches Rhodes' hands is not a joke made up by the drunks in the tavern.

Yuri continued watching.

The more I looked at it, the stiffer my fingers became.

Golden Knight Siren forcefully broke through the blockade.

The fourth-ranking priest of the Black Death Church died.

The plague god's descent failed.

The unknown Black Crow God has clearly appeared.

Lund is suspected of being on the verge of death.

Xilun's whereabouts are unknown.

Every word felt like a stone, hitting his chest.

What does "missing" mean?

Yuri suddenly looked up.

"Where is the young master? Where is Xilun? Wasn't he a third-tier cultivator? He just killed Clement and came out of the Great Yu Dojo, how could he have disappeared?"

Rhodes closed his eyes.

He was not found at the scene.

"That means they escaped."

Yuri said immediately.

"A man like him is incredibly resilient. Clement chased him for over twenty days without killing him, and even Fourth-Order Fowles couldn't capture him. What's a Black Death Cult camp compared to that?"

That's a very strong statement.

But no one in the study agreed.

Because they all knew that last night's battle was no ordinary fight.

That was a struggle between gods.

In the lower city, a Tier 3 is enough to control a territory, but in the face of that level, a Tier 3 is no different from an ordinary person.

Rhodes whispered, "The people who went to the old courtyard in the southern suburbs have returned."

Yuri suddenly looked at him.

Rod said, "The yard has been sealed off by the government."

"government?"

A fierce glint flashed in Yuri's eyes.

"On what grounds do they bestow titles upon the family of Xilun's teacher?"

"There might be a god there now."

Rod turned around, his voice not loud, but it silenced the study completely.

"The people sent didn't get close. There were security personnel, church investigators, government special affairs officers, and several Upper Town guards of unknown origin outside the old compound. Everyone just stood around, not going in."

Yuri paused for a moment.

Why?

Rod looked out the window.

The streets of the North District were shrouded in a gray haze after the rain, with black smoke billowing from distant chimneys.

"Because there was a black crow perched at the door."

This statement sounds absurd.

But Yuri didn't laugh.

He recalled the description in the secret report, and the symbol of that unknown deity, and his face twitched slightly.

"So, the young master is inside?"

"uncertain."

Roddao.

"But the government won't let anyone get close, which means they're not sure either. Or rather, they're sure what's inside, but they don't dare to disturb it."

Yuri remained silent for a long time.

Then, he slammed his fist hard on the table.

"Get the brothers armed."

Rod looked at him coldly.

"and then?"

Yuri gritted his teeth: "Take him away."

"Whom should we rob?"

Rhodes asked.

"From whom did you snatch it?"

"The government? The church? The Upper City Guard? Or the god behind that black crow?"

Yuri opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Rhodes' voice remained steady.

"If Lord Sir Ren were still awake, he would not allow the Brotherhood to die for such a pointless impulse."

Yuri's temple veins throbbed.

"So we're just going to do nothing?"

"Do what you can do."

Rhodes placed another order on the table.

"Shrink all territories, halt expansion, and re-examine all new allies."

The gunmen were moved in batches, and copies of the core ledger were burned, leaving only the master ledger. The southern outpost was placed under a state of silence; no one was allowed to mention the details of last night's divine battle.

He paused.

"Also, send people to keep an eye on the hospital, the docks, and the government's supply lines to the blockade. Don't go near the old compound, but find out where everyone who leaves the old compound goes."

Yuri took a deep breath.

It's not that he doesn't understand.

I just feel uncomfortable.

The Brotherhood members are used to bloodshed, used to drawing their guns, and used to risking their lives for territory in the alleys.

But now, they don't even have the right to approach the leader's location.

This is more frustrating than being shot.

A young gunman outside in the corridor whispered, "Boss Yuri, will Mr. Celen be back?"

Yuri glanced back at him.

The young man's face still showed lingering excitement and fear.

For the Brotherhood, Siron had only recently advanced to Tier 3.

They thought they had found a protective umbrella.

But in the blink of an eye, that umbrella was swept into the storm of the gods.

Yuri was silent for a moment, then cursed, "Of course he'll come back."

He spoke very crudely.

But it was as if she was talking to herself.

At the same time, the atmosphere at Tusol Manor was even more oppressive than in the North Quarter.

Oin stood in the center of the study.

The ground was covered with shattered glass.

When the battle of gods broke out last night, all the windows in the study blew open at the same time, letting in cold wind and rain, and blowing out all the lights.

He was jolted awake from his sleep, his heart feeling as if it were being gripped by an icy hand.

That's not fear.

At least he was unwilling to admit it was fear.

But the body's instincts don't lie.

In that instant, he, the man who held power in the Tusol family, orchestrated the coup, and dared to use Clement to hunt down the third-tier nobility, truly felt like an ant.

Oro stood in front of the desk, his face pale.

"Father, has the news been confirmed?"

Oin did not answer immediately.

Three intelligence reports were laid out on the desk.

A tip from an informant inside the government.

A noble guard who escaped from outside the blockade.

A report from a spy in the southern district of Tusol.

The three intelligence reports differed in detail, but all pointed to the same conclusion.

Xilun is associated with an unknown deity.

Oro said with difficulty, "Could it be an exaggeration? Perhaps it's just some kind of fourth-tier secret technique, or a corrupted illusion from the Black Death Cult."

Oin glanced at him.

"When Clement died, you hoped it was just an exaggeration."

Oro's expression stiffened slightly.

O'In picked up one of the papers.

"Three second-tier guards outside the blockade line had their eyeballs explode on the spot because they stared directly at the mythical form."

A sheriff knelt and prayed for half an hour, then woke up forgetting his own name. The government's special affairs department sealed off the old compound overnight, but did not enter.