Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun looked at the bone whistle, his eyes darkening slightly.

"Are you leaving?"

"For now," Lady Black Crow said casually. "The debt is still there; I'll come back to you eventually."

As she finished speaking, her figure seemed to be swallowed by the dim light outside the window. Although she was still standing in the same place, it was as if she had already gone far away.

The room fell silent again.

This time, only Xilun was truly left alive.

He leaned against the headboard and took a long time to slowly move his feet to the ground.

When the soles of my shoes touched the cold wooden planks, it felt like every bone in my body was protesting.

He could almost hear the subtle yet clear pulling sounds coming from the places deep inside his body that had been forcibly sewn up, with every inch of movement.

But he still stood up.

It's slow and steady.

Like walking step by step out of a deeper snow.

He held onto the edge of the bed, walked to another bed, and lifted a corner of the white cloth.

Lund's face was revealed.

The man's face was ashen, his wrinkles like the lines carved into old wood, yet the corners of his mouth still held a very faint curve, as if he hadn't truly let go of that stubborn and unyielding spirit even on his deathbed.

His neck and shoulders had been cleaned, and the bloodstains on his body had been wiped away. He looked much quieter than he did on the clock tower, making one wonder if he was just too tired and had fallen asleep.

Xilun stood there and watched for a long time.

My chest felt like something was slowly blocking it, making me feel suffocated and heavy.

He ultimately remained silent.

There's no need to say anything.

Some things, if you don't have time to say them while you're alive, will only make the house feel emptier after you die.

Xilun simply and gently pulled the white cloth back up, his movements extremely light, as if afraid of waking something.

Then he turned his head and looked out the window at the gray sky.

The drizzle hadn't stopped, and shadowy figures could be seen moving outside the cordon. The whole city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the final outcome in this old courtyard.

But Xilun knew that the outcome was already quite clear.

Victoria no longer had a place for him.

At least not right now.

He's leaving.

Go to the sea, to the chaotic sea, to a place that is even more chaotic, more dangerous, and less humane.

He needed to forge the forces within him—the forces that had been piecing together, tearing apart, and interlocking—back into something whole, something strong enough to prevent him from being corrupted and swallowed up, from being crushed by nobles, and from being bent under the shadow of the gods.

Then come back.

For Lund.

For those accounts that haven't been settled yet.

For himself as well.

Raindrops slanted down outside the window, like layers of blurry gauze, shrouding the old city in darkness and silence.

Xilun stood between the two beds, slowly clenching his fist. The cracks in his palms ached faintly, but deep within his bones, something colder and more resolute than the chill was slowly sinking down.

He will leave.

But he will definitely come back.

Even if it's just to kill Fowles with my own hands, even if it's just to dig out the filth hidden behind the church, the nobles, and the plague, even if it's just to get that last shot back for Lund.

The city owes him a debt he has yet to repay.

……

After Lady Black Crow left, the black crow on the lintel of the old courtyard also disappeared.

It didn't flap its wings and fly away.

But at one point, when the investigators outside the cordon looked up again, the damp eaves were empty, with only a few drops of rain falling from the cracks in the tiles, hitting the puddles in front of the door and splashing up a small ripple.

In that instant, everyone outside seemed to stop breathing.

But no one dared to step into the yard immediately.

The lingering effects of last night's disaster still weigh on everyone's hearts.

The crazed bystanders, the guards with bulging eyes, the ruins swept upwards by the rain, and the grayish-white diseased soil in the center of the camp that remains inaccessible to this day—all these remind them:

The young third-tier extraordinary individual in the old manor was no longer someone they could interrogate, detain, or dispose of at will.

Moreover, no one knows whether that black crow-like figure has truly left.

The standoff outside the door lasted for a long time.

Finally, the government's special affairs office sent only two of its most composed investigators, accompanied by a church deacon, who stood outside the gate through the rain curtain to ask if they needed any help.

Rhodes responded to them.

He returned sometime during the day, looking exhausted, with wet raindrops still clinging to the shoulders of his coat.

"Mr. Siren needs a rest."

Rhodes stood inside the door, his tone calm, but he held a loaded short gun in his hand.

He didn't say anything more.

The people outside the door didn't pressure them.

They left behind only a few bottles of purification potion provided by the church, two boxes of food, and a letter of condolence in the name of the government, before quietly retreating behind the blockade line.

The old courtyard fell silent again.

Xilun did not meet with anyone.

Even when Saiwei knelt outside the door, crying until her voice was hoarse, he only asked Rhodes to send her to stay next door temporarily.

He dared not see her.

It wasn't that I was afraid of the pain, but that I was afraid that if I spoke, the things that I had been barely suppressing inside me would surge up again.

His body is like an old building that has survived a fire and an earthquake; it can still stand on the surface, but it is full of cracks inside.

The regenerative instinct of the evil god's severed limbs, the decay left by Nurles, the black feather seal left by the Black Raven Lady, the Xuan Yin chill, and the storm bloodline that was forcibly awakened, are like several venomous snakes tearing at each other, coiled deep within the marrow and the core of the spirit.

They would all look up at the slightest emotional fluctuation.

Therefore, he can only meditate.

Deep meditation.

It's not just ordinary breathing exercises; it's about sinking your consciousness inch by inch into the deepest part of your body, like clearing away every rubble with frozen fingers in the ruins after a rainstorm.

On the first day, he barely moved.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, while Lund's body was placed in the outer room, covered neatly with a white sheet.

The windows were closed, but dampness still seeped into the room through the cracks in the walls.

Xilun had his eyes closed, his breathing as shallow as that of a dying man.

The Xuan Yin breathing technique operates slowly.

The chill slid along the bone crevices, no longer as sharp and outward as before, but was pressed into the flesh little by little, turning into cold, thin threads that stitched up the still-bleeding wounds.

Each stitch would aggravate the cracks left by the black feathers.

The pain first exploded in my shoulder blades, then spread down my spine, as if someone had buried a red-hot wire into my bone and then repeatedly poured ice water on it to extinguish it.

Xilun remained silent.

He was just biting a clean cloth, cold sweat dripping from his forehead down his chin and onto his knees, where it quickly condensed into a thin layer of frost.

By the evening of the second day, he was finally able to open his eyes.

The room was dimly lit, and the fire in the stove, rekindled by Savi, licked at the old iron furnace with a soft crackling sound. Rod stood by the door, like a silent nail.

"How's it outside?" Xilun asked hoarsely.

Rhodes immediately lowered his head.

"The government is still blocking off three streets around the old compound, but its attitude has softened considerably."

Half of the church members withdrew, leaving only the quarantine team. The Link family sent a gift, unsigned. The Tussor family also sent condolences and compensation, a substantial amount.

Xilun's eyelids droop slightly.

"Testing the waters."

"Yes," Rod said. "They want to know if you're still alive, and they also want to know your attitude towards them."

Xilun did not comment.

He paused for a moment, then asked, "What about the Brotherhood?"

"We have fully withdrawn as you instructed. Yuri wanted to bring men to guard the compound, but I stopped him. He is currently at the North District base. He is emotionally unstable, but he can still obey orders."

Tell him not to come.

Rod looked up at him.

Xilun leaned against the headboard, his complexion barely better than a dead man's, but his eyes were perfectly clear.

"From today onward, the relationship between the Brotherhood and me will be reduced to the bare minimum," Siren said slowly.

"Sever all accounts, personnel transfers, and overt businesses that can be cut off. From now on, do not use my name to expand, and do not let newcomers think that the Brotherhood has a Tier 3 who can take action at any time."

Rhodes was startled.

He quickly understood what Xilun meant.

Since last night, Xilun's reputation is no longer just a deterrent, but also a fire that can burn anyone who gets close.

Government, church, nobles, cult, unknown deity—none of these words carry the weight that an ordinary gang can bear.

"I understand," Rod said in a low voice.

"Bring me paper and pen."

Rod was slightly taken aback.

Xilun stretched out his hand, his fingertips still trembling slightly.

"write a letter."

Xilun sat for a long time after the letter was laid out on the small table.

Next to the ink bottle was Lund's old pipe, which he used to smoke. Savi probably couldn't bear to take it away, so he left it in its original place.

The pipe has tiny nicks on the edge, like the countless old wounds left by the old boxer throughout his life.

Xilun glanced at it before picking up his pen.

The first letter was written to the fraternity board.

He wrote very slowly.

Every word seemed to be scraped out of the bone.

"Due to personal reasons, I have recently been involved in many disputes and am no longer able to serve as an honorary director of the fraternity."

"Thank you all for your kindness, but if we continue to use this name in the future, it will not only be of no benefit to the affairs of the association, but may also drag the fraternity into unnecessary trouble..."

The writing is very restrained.

There was no mention of Black Crow, no mention of evil gods, and no mention of the covetousness of various forces in Victoria.

He simply took the blame upon himself, saying that he had acted rashly and made too many enemies, and that continuing to be nominally affiliated with the Brotherhood would be irresponsible to the Brotherhood.

He also mentioned that he always remembered the help Mr. Midas had given him, and that if the Brotherhood were to face a real catastrophe in the future, he would personally repay the favor as appropriate, but would no longer participate in any decision-making or profit distribution as a director.

He paused for a long time during the last part.

The pen tip hovered over the paper, ink dripped down, and spread out as a small black dot.

He recalled the boisterous laughter from the South District outpost, the strong liquor Yuri brought him, and Rhodes's cautious yet shrewd demeanor when he first helped him organize the accounts.

The fraternity is not a clean place.

But that place did indeed give him his first foothold.

After a long pause, he continued writing:

"May the Brotherhood henceforth temper its arrogance, seek less unnecessary gain, and leave more room for survival."

The people of the lower city are already struggling; if they only point their swords at the weaker, one day they too will be treated the same way by the stronger.

At the end of the signature, he wrote the two characters "Xilun".

The Golden Knight was not mentioned.

It also doesn't mention the third order.

The second letter was written to the Link family.

This letter is shorter, yet heavier.

He first thanked the Link family for the gift and for their help in providing old information, before writing down his real request.

"The Iron Cross Fight Club is the culmination of Mr. Lund's life's work. He came from humble beginnings and used his fists to pave a path for the young people of the downtown area so that they would not immediately sink into the mire."

With Mr. Jin's passing and Sir Runaway leaving the city soon, there is a fear that someone might take the opportunity to embezzle, coerce, or destroy his estate.

If the Link family still cherishes their past friendship, it is hoped that they can offer some protection to the Iron Cross Fighting Club in the family name.

He paused for a moment, then added another sentence.

"No need for special treatment, just ask that they continue to open the door according to the old rules."

"When you return, you will surely be richly rewarded!"

After finishing writing, Xilun put down the pen and loosened his knuckles one by one.

Rhodes stood to the side, silently looking at the two letters.

He knew that the first letter would be a farewell.

The second letter was entrusted.

Silen is gradually pulling himself out of Victoria's increasingly tight web, while placing what Lund left behind in a position where it won't be easily crushed.

This is not something a young person in their early twenties would do.

It's more like someone who has walked on the edge of death too many times, knowing what must be given up and what cannot be lost even at the cost of one's life.

"I'll deliver it myself," Rod said.

"No." Siren shook his head. "Have the first letter delivered to the Brotherhood by an ordinary courier, the more ordinary the better. For the second letter, you should personally deliver it to the Link family, but don't go inside; just hand it to the butler."

Rod paused slightly, then immediately understood.

The Link family is also being watched.

Overly obvious contact will only cause more trouble for the other party.

"Yes."

Rhodes put away the letter and was about to turn around when Xilun suddenly said, "Rhodes."

"gentlemen."

"If Yuri asks me why I resigned from the honorary board, just tell him."

Xilun looked at the fire in the hearth and spoke very softly.

"I'm not dead yet, so I can't drag them all into the grave."

Rhodes' Adam's apple bobbed.

He didn't say much, he just bowed his head deeply.

After the door closed, only Xilun remained in the room.

The rain stopped for a while, but water droplets were still dripping from the eaves.

He closed his eyes again, his consciousness sinking deep into his body.

This time, meditation is no longer just about healing.

He began to slowly touch the storm power buried deep within his bloodline.

It is neither as clear as the chilling aura of darkness, nor as foul and murky as the pollution of evil spirits.

It's more like a suppressed thunderclap deep in the ocean, hidden in the tides of his blood. Usually silent, it surges occasionally, making his heartbeat vaguely overlap with the rhythm of the lingering rain outside the window.

Duke of Storms.

illegitimate child.

mother.

These words flashed through my mind like the back of a knife striking an old wound.

Xilun didn't dwell on it.

Now is not the time.

He simply suppressed that surge of thunderous energy, slowly guiding it towards the most dangerous, decaying crack in his chest.

Storm, chill, death, the remaining strength of the black crow.

The four forces briefly came into contact within the body.

The next moment, Xilun suddenly bent over and spat out a mouthful of black blood.

The blood fell to the floor and did not congeal immediately. Instead, it twitched twice like a living thing before being covered by frost.

Xilun stared at the mouthful of blood, but there was no fear in his eyes.

Only calmness.

The fact that the patient is still vomiting blood indicates that the body is still rejecting the medication.

The fact that he is still resisting means that he has not yet completely become a nest for that thing.

He raised his hand to wipe the corner of his mouth and sat up straight again.

Outside the window, the sound of car wheels rolling over puddles could be heard from the distant street.

The city is starting to function again.

Those nobles, churches, governments, and public officials will soon use their familiar methods to name, archive, cover up, and assign responsibility for everything that happened last night.

The dead will be counted.

The ruins will be sealed off.

Lund will be mourned, or he will be exploited.

Xiren must finish what he needs to do before that.

He wanted to see his teacher off on his final journey.

I also need to take the ashes to see someone.

An elderly man living far away in a small town, perhaps still waiting for his son to come home.