Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

"It seems that besides the 'Bone-Crushing Fist,' I need to find another opportunity to learn a weapon."

Xilun secretly made his plans.

He has a crimson panel; as long as you can get the basics down, you can grind your progress bar to increase your proficiency.

What might take others eight to ten years to master in marksmanship and swordsmanship, he might only need a few months.

"Alright, stop thinking about it so much."

Fester got up from the ground, dusted himself off, and said, "Those things are too far off for us. The important thing is to hone our fists first. Instructor Rein said yesterday that if no one has mastered the basics of the 'Bone Crusher's Fist' by this week, he's going to lose his temper."

At this point, he glanced at Xilun with some envy, "Only you could have mastered it so quickly. Teach me, how exactly do you generate that spiral force?"

Xilun smiled, revealing nothing.

"It's actually very simple. Imagine your arm is a tightly wound spring..."

The two talked as they walked toward the training area.

Xilun stood in front of the wooden stake, took a deep breath, and cleared his mind of all distractions.

On the retina, a deep red data stream quietly appeared.

[Skill: Bone Crusher Fist (Beginner 2/100)]

[Skill: Police Combat Techniques (Expert 15/1000)]

[Skill: Iron Wall Breathing Technique (Proficiency 392/500)]

"Bang!"

Xilun suddenly threw a punch.

The dull thud echoed through the training hall. The hard iron birch stake trembled slightly, leaving only a shallow dent on the surface, but a few wood chips cracked on the back.

The training continued until noon.

Xiren's muscles ached all over, but his spirits were unusually high. With each punch and each breath, he could clearly feel his strength increasing little by little, and that tangible feeling of growing stronger fascinated him.

Bang!

The dull thuds of flesh colliding echoed through the training room.

Fester staggered back three steps, each step making a heavy thud on the wooden floor.

His hands were red, as if they had been stirred in scalding hot iron filings. His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath, and sweat dripped from his nose onto the ground.

Xiren, who was opposite him, remained standing in the same spot.

Xiren wore only a gray vest soaked in sweat. His muscle lines were not exaggerated, but they were like tightly twisted steel cables, each strand containing a heart-pounding explosive power.

He slowly withdrew his arms from in front of him, his breathing as steady as if he were taking a walk, without even a drop of sweat falling.

"Huff... huff..."

Fester rested his hands on his knees, looked up at Xilun with a look of utter disbelief.

"I'm not fighting anymore, I really am not fighting anymore."

Fester waved his hand, plopped down on the floor, grabbed a towel and wiped his face haphazardly: "Silen, your fighting skills... are probably about the same as that freak Robert's, right? Maybe even more consistent. Those parries just now, they made my bones ache."

Xiren walked to the bench, picked up the water bottle, took a sip, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

The cool liquid slid down my esophagus, taking away a bit of the heat.

"Practice makes perfect," Celen said calmly, putting down his water bottle. "I haven't seen Robert come to train much either."

In the past few days, Robert, who was hailed as a genius student of the club, has indeed disappeared.

"Him?" Fester curled his lip, a hint of sourness in his voice. "He's going to prepare for next year's junior knight fighting tournament. How can people like us, still wallowing in the mud, compare?"

The voice just fell.

The heavy oak door of the training room was pushed open.

A tall, slender figure walked in first. He had blond hair, a high nose, and a slightly raised chin. He wore a well-tailored, custom-made white training uniform with the family crest embroidered on his chest. He exuded an air of nobility that seemed out of place here.

It was Robert.

Following closely behind was Mentor Renn, dressed in a black trench coat.

Xilun's gaze swept over them.

Robert's aura was indeed stronger than Fester's.

But the arrogance in his eyes was undisguised, as if he saw everyone as a stepping stone.

"They're all here."

Renn glanced around, his gaze lingering on Xiren for a moment, before speaking in a loud, clear voice: "Stop what you're doing. I have something to tell you."

The students all stopped what they were doing and gathered around.

With his hands behind his back, Ryan said in a deep voice, "Tomorrow night, the club will have an internal combat trial. It's not our own people fighting; it's an opportunity for elites from other instructors to spar. It's a chance to showcase our overall strength."

Xilun nodded slightly.

So that's why Robert showed up today.

Fester leaned close to Siren's ear and whispered, "I've heard of these internal trials. They're all ruthless. The other instructors' subordinates fight like mad dogs for resources. If you run into a tough one, they might break two of your ribs, and you'll be bedridden for at least a month or two. Although the opponents are at least at the Qi Sensing level, which can hone your combat skills, the risk... tsk tsk."

Xilun remained unmoved.

Risk and reward are the only criteria he uses to measure all his actions.

He now has a stable source of income.

With money, you can buy meat and medicinal herbs, and steadily gain experience on the liver panel.

This kind of trial, which is highly uncertain and prone to injury, is not cost-effective for him.

"There are limited spots available for this trial."

Ryan's gaze swept over the crowd and landed on Siren, then he looked away and said to Robert, "There's a newcomer named Siren who's been performing very well lately. He not only quickly developed his Qi sense, but his combat skills have also reached the expert level."

Upon hearing this, a low gasp rippled through the crowd, and everyone's eyes instantly focused on Xiren.

Being singled out by mentor Ryan and ranked alongside Robert, a top contender, is itself a huge recognition.

However, Robert, standing next to Ryan, frowned almost imperceptibly.

He turned his head and, for the first time, looked directly at the young man who was wearing an inexpensive vest and had a calm expression.

Expert-level combat techniques?

Robert scoffed inwardly.

"tutor."

Robert stepped forward, interrupting everyone's gaze.

He bowed slightly, his tone respectful yet exuding an undeniable confidence: "I can handle this trial alone. There's no need to bring a burden along. I will bring you first place and will certainly not disgrace you."

Ryan glanced at Robert, not angry, but instead smiled and said, "It's good that you're confident. Your strength is indeed close to that of a baptized person; your skin is tough and difficult to injure with ordinary swords. But that doesn't mean you can look down on others."

As he spoke, Ryan pointed to Siren: "Although Siren joined the sport late, he is now a newly signed fighter. His potential is considerable, even comparable to yours. He is also a strong contender in next year's junior knight fighting tournament."

Not inferior to me?

Robert's pupils contracted slightly.

In this club with limited resources, the mentor's focus is the biggest resource. The more competitors there are, the less they will get.

The spots for next year's combat sports competition are of paramount importance and absolutely cannot be lost.

Robert's gaze toward Celen changed.

If before it was simply ignored, now there's an added layer of scrutiny and hostility.

Under everyone's gaze, Xiren simply picked up a towel and wiped the sweat from his neck.

"I won't go."