Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

On the other side, Karls also sensed the malice of the Miluo family and looked worried.

"Mr. Sir Lun, the Miluo family has been competing with us for several fishing grounds, and two years ago someone even died over a shipping route. If you encounter them, please be careful."

Xilun nodded slightly.

"Don't worry."

He spoke very calmly.

But Karls felt inexplicably calmer after hearing those words.

Soon, the members of the Silver Shell Council entered the hall.

The leader was a middle-aged woman dressed in silver, with her hair tied up and a silver shell emblem on her chest.

She was followed by several deacons, who carried rosters, lot-drawing tubes, and several testing stones.

The woman's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the coldness and hardness of someone who had long held a position of power.

"This power assessment will be conducted according to the old rules."

The first round is a contest between second-tier worshippers and extraordinary members of their families.

The winner earns three points, the loser earns one point, and those who lose their fighting ability are disqualified.

Those who commit intentional homicide will have all points deducted from their faction's score for this round, and will be dealt with by the Silver Shell Council.

Her gaze swept over the crowd.

"Of course, swords have no eyes. If you are not strong enough, it is best to admit defeat."

A few low laughs echoed in the hall.

The rules sound nice, but everyone knows that unless someone is killed on the spot, a few broken bones or a crippled arm are usually considered injuries sustained during a fight.

The woman in silver ignored these reactions and continued, "Draw lots."

Each family stepped forward in turn.

Horn gestured for Siren to come over.

Xilun reached into the divination box and pulled out a wooden plaque.

Number three.

The first round started quickly.

The crowd entered the arena through a side gate of the palace, and the stands immediately became lively.

The islanders were very interested in this competition, and many people placed their bets loudly while eating grilled fish.

The center of the arena was covered with coarse sand and gray stone, and shallow protective patterns were carved around it.

The deacons of the Silver Shell Council stood on the edge, responsible for determining the winner.

The fight between No. 1 and No. 2 proceeded very quickly.

After the two second-tier extraordinary individuals entered the arena, they first tested each other before drawing their swords and closing in.

His strength application is very crude, mostly concentrated in his arms and legs, and his occasional bursts of power are only slightly stronger than those of a first-tier fighter.

In Xilun's view, this was more like a battle between physically strong warriors than a refined control of extraordinary strength.

Of course, this is not surprising.

It is true that extraordinary knowledge flows in the chaotic sea, but most of what flows are incomplete, crude, and dangerous methods.

The truly exquisite breathing techniques and skills remain firmly controlled by powerful forces.

In the first match, a burly man wielding an axe broke his opponent's long sword and kicked him out of the arena.

In the second match, a woman wielding a pistol won by speed, stopping the tip of her gun three inches from her opponent's throat, drawing cheers.

Before the cheers for the second round had even subsided, the deacon of the Silver Shell Council raised his wooden plaque, his voice carrying through the noise around the arena.

Number three.

Kars instinctively looked at Xiren.

Horn gripped his cane tightly, his thin knuckles turning slightly white.

Xilun glanced down at the wooden plaque in his palm that was engraved with the number "three," his expression remaining completely unchanged.

He simply exhaled softly.

The breath was shallow, and it dissipated almost immediately in the damp sea breeze.

However, as he exhaled, the chill and blood that were originally flowing slowly in his body were gradually pushed deeper.

He brought the Xuan Yin breathing technique to a halt, the breath of the Styx River subsided, and even the faint black energy wriggling deep within his bones was temporarily sealed by his chill.

Although he is now standing within the threshold of the third tier again, his injuries have not yet healed, and the several forces within his body are still like several venomous snakes intertwined, which may tear each other apart at the slightest provocation.

In a place like this, there's no need to expose too much.

A sufficiently powerful second-tier consecrator is enough to protect Emerald Lake for the Ronte family.

Xilun brought his blood pressure to the range of a normal second-tier extraordinary person, and even deliberately made his breathing slightly sluggish, like someone who had just been promoted and whose foundation was not yet stable.

He got up and walked towards the arena.

The coarse sand was trodden into shallow marks by the soles of the shoes, and the murmurs from the surrounding stands subsided.

Many people had already heard that the Ronte family had brought in a patron from a ship at sea.

But seeing that Xilun was pale and, despite his tall stature, looked sickly, they felt little awe, but rather curiosity.

"This is the person the Ronte family invited?"

"It looks like it could be blown over by a sea breeze."

"Didn't the Miluo family say he's a sickly weakling?"

"Don't underestimate them; anyone who dares to stand up here must have some skill."

"Skills? Does the Ronter family still have the money to hire any top-notch people?"

These voices were not deliberately lowered.

Karls's face darkened, but he couldn't refute it. He knew that Xiren's strength was far more than what was shown on the surface, but the family had been in decline for too long, and others had long been used to looking down on them.

On the other side of the arena, a broad-shouldered man walked out.

The man was about forty years old, his skin was tanned dark by the sea breeze, he had a diagonal old scar on his forehead, and a broad-bladed scimitar was slung at his waist.

The hilt was wrapped in blackened animal hide, and the edges of the scabbard were polished to a shine, clearly not just for show.

As soon as he entered, people around him recognized his identity.

"It's Blacktooth Thorne."

"He came too?"

"I heard that this man used to work with a hunting team. He's incredibly skilled with a knife, and he's killed more than ten sea beasts."

"The Ronter family is in trouble this time."

After the man stopped, his gaze swept over Xilun.

His gaze was like that of a seasoned fisherman assessing a fish that has taken the bait, scanning it from shoulder, elbow, and wrist to waist, abdomen, and knee.

Then, a confident yet indifferent smile appeared on his face.

"Your qi and blood are rather ordinary; you must have only recently advanced to the second rank?"

Xilun looked up at him but didn't say anything.

Thorne drew his scimitar half an inch, the blade glistening with a damp blue light.

"My fighting skills were honed through battles with sea beasts. Once unleashed, they will either kill or injure the target."

Today is the Silver Bay Council's assessment day, and I do not wish to incur unnecessary grudges.

If you're smart, you'll admit defeat sooner rather than later; it'll be better for both of us.

A few jeers rang out around the arena.

On the stands where Miluo's family was located, Balo's smile deepened.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping the armrest with his fingers as if he could already see Xilun's disheveled exit.

Horn's face was ashen, but Karls looked at Xiren.

He noticed that Xilun actually smiled.

The smile was faint, neither mocking nor angry, but rather like someone who had heard something insignificant.

Thorne's expression darkened slightly.

"It seems you don't take it to heart."

Xilun finally spoke.

"please."

One word.

It was so calm it was almost perfunctory.

Thorne's eye twitched.

Having fought at sea for many years, he loathed this kind of calm that made it impossible to discern the true nature of things.

If the other party were truly capable, that would be one thing, but Xilun's aura was clearly ordinary, and his breathing was not smooth. To him, that indifference seemed more like a recklessness.

"Since that's the case, don't blame me."

As soon as he finished speaking, the coarse sand beneath Thorne's feet suddenly exploded.

He leaped out like a black sea fish, skimming the ground. The moment his scimitar was drawn, a cold, metallic whistling sound accompanied the flash of the blade as it slashed straight at Xilun's left shoulder.

This strike wasn't flashy, but it was extremely fast.

If it were an ordinary newly promoted second-tier cultivator, facing this kind of killing blade forged from the teeth and claws of sea beasts, nine times out of ten they would misjudge and have their shoulder bone cut open.

The deacon of the Silver Shell Council narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers already resting on the whistle at his waist.

But the next moment, his fingers stopped.

Xilun did not back down.

He only took half a step forward.

The half-step was so short that most people in the stands didn't even see it clearly.

But it was precisely this half-step that caused the sharpest arc of the scimitar to graz his shoulder and miss.

At the same time, he raised his right hand, put two fingers together, and pointed them an inch below Thorne's wrist holding the knife.

That wasn't a joint, nor the most obvious tendon, but it was the weak point where Thorne's power shifted.

Thorne felt a sudden numbness in his entire arm, and his sword strike faltered.

He was terrified and tried to change his move, his left knee instinctively slamming into Xilun's abdomen.

Xilun's hand gently brushed against his wrist.

The scimitar slipped from his hand.

The blade spun in the air before plunging into the coarse sand with a thud, the hilt trembling violently.

The whole process was as fast as a line of water sliding across a stone surface.

Before Thorne could even react with shock and anger, Siron's shoulder had already slammed into his open chest.

It's not about brute force, but about getting close, breaking the momentum, and deflecting the force at just the right moment.

Thorne felt a tightness in his chest, his feet lifted half an inch off the ground, and then Xilun grabbed his shoulder bone and threw him to the ground.

boom!

Coarse sand splashed everywhere.

Thorne landed on his back, a metallic taste rising in his throat. He gritted his teeth, trying to roll over, but Siron had already raised his foot, the sole of his shoe stopping just above his throat.

I didn't step on it.

But that shadow falling on his Adam's apple was colder than a real blade.

The deacon paused for a moment before announcing loudly, "Number three, Langte family wins!"

The arena was completely silent.

Then, the sound exploded like a wine barrel with its cork suddenly ripped out.

"That's it?"

"Thorn's swords have all been removed?"

"I didn't see clearly how he fell down."

"Wasn't it supposed to be a near-promotion?"

"That footwork... no, that's not ordinary second-tier footwork."

Carls stood there, stunned, and finally exhaled the breath he had been holding in his chest for so long.

Horn was initially taken aback, but then an overwhelming joy welled up in his eyes.

He knew that Xiren might be very strong, but seeing him defeat Thorne so cleanly and decisively still shocked him.

Thorne was no nobody in the hunting party either.

Such a person couldn't even land a complete second cut in Xilun's hands.

The smile on Barlow's face froze.

The elder of the Miluo family narrowed his eyes, and his originally nonchalant expression became more serious.

Xiren withdrew his foot, bent down, drew his scimitar, and handed it back to Thorne with the hilt facing him.

Thorne's chest heaved, and his face alternated between pale and flushed.

His fingers were still a little numb when he caught the knife.

Thank you.

These two words are difficult to say.

Siren nodded, turned and walked out of the arena.

He didn't flaunt his power, nor did he look at the Miluo family; it was as if he had just done something utterly ordinary.

But precisely because of this, the discussions in the stands became even more intense.

When Horn came to greet him, his voice was softer than before.

"Mr. Siren, you..."

Xilun sat back down and said calmly, "It's not over yet."

Horn immediately shut his mouth.

The competition continued afterward.

However, after the third game, the way many people looked at the Rondo family's seats had clearly changed.

They originally viewed the Ronte family as a wrecked ship about to sink to the bottom of the sea, a place anyone could step on and tear off a plank of.

But now, it seems there's someone on that wrecked boat who's not someone to mess with.

The first round has concluded.

Some people were beaming with pride after winning, while others were helped off the field, the sound of their leg bones breaking so loudly it made your teeth ache.

Several dark red bloodstains quickly appeared on the coarse sand, which were casually covered up by the deacon with an iron rake.

The woman in silver stood up again, her gaze sweeping over the roster.

Beside her, an elderly man in a silver robe took the results from the steward and announced in a deep voice, "The first round is over. Everyone will have a one-hour break. The second round will begin in one hour."

The old man's voice was aged, yet like a rock on the beach, steady and unyielding.

"In the second round, there will be no more drawing lots. Each faction can choose its own opponent, and the challenger and the challenged will enter the internal fighting room."

The winner will be determined by the council deacons. If no one challenges, the score from the previous round will be recorded.

These words immediately sparked a low murmur in the hall.

Choosing your own opponent may sound liberating, but it actually reveals the true strengths and weaknesses of each side.

The weak are constantly being challenged, while the strong are left untouched.

The Langte family was originally the most suitable target, but after the incident in Xilun, many people who were originally prepared to take action hesitated.

Xiren ignored the outside world's attention.

He sat cross-legged in his seat, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing.

An hour is the time it takes for others to recover their energy and treat their wounds.

For him, it was more like a brief repair.

The gentle demonic energy accumulated from Emerald Lake still lingered in his body, and the blood and qi replenished by the red-striped sea cucumber paste had not completely dissipated.

Xilun guided the dark, cold energy along the bone crevices, avoiding the gray-white cracks, and gently pressed down on the occasional dark itch deep in his right arm.

The power of the evil god's severed limbs lies dormant.

His storm-like bloodline resonated faintly with the distant ocean tides in his breath.

He must be careful.

We cannot waste our true trump cards in this second-tier competition.

An hour passed quickly.

When the second round began, the old man in the silver robe stepped forward again.

"The winner of the first round will have priority in choosing."

The winners looked at each other.

Some people glanced at the Ronte family home and then quickly looked away.

Xilun opened his eyes.

He didn't wait for anyone else to pick him.

Since it's an evaluation, the sooner it's over, the better.

His gaze swept across the room, finally settling casually on a man with bare arms and a neck covered in fine scales.

The man, who was holding a wine glass, paused when he saw Xilun looking at him.

Xilun raised his hand and pointed.

"he."

The hall fell silent for a moment.

The man who was pointed at was stunned, then an angry and exaggerated smile appeared on his face.

"You're challenging me?"

He slammed the glass down, spilling the wine.

"Outsider, you think you can do whatever you want just because you beat Thorne? Do you even know who I am?"

Someone nearby whispered, "It's Daru from the Bloodscale Society. He's fused with Ironspined Shark materials; his bones are incredibly hard."

"This guy is more troublesome than Thorne; he's notoriously resilient."

"Isn't the Ronte family's worship a bit too extravagant?"

Daru stood up, his arm muscles bulging, the scales gleaming a dark red under the light. He walked toward the infighting room with a cold smile.

"Alright, very well. Since you've chosen me, don't say I'm bullying a patient when you kneel down later."

Xilun did not respond, but got up and followed him inside.