Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire training room.

"I feel my foundation isn't solid enough lately, so I want to spend more time on breathing techniques and basic exercises. This kind of high-intensity trial is more suitable for my senior brother Robert."

You refused?

Fester's eyes widened. This was an opportunity personally given by Instructor Rein, a chance to show his face in front of other instructors and gain practical experience. How could he just refuse it like that?

Robert's smile faltered for a moment.

"Oh?"

Renn raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. "Siren, are you sure? This is a rare opportunity for real combat. Learning by doing in isolation will only lead to very slow progress."

"I'm sure."

Xilun answered decisively.

Making a fortune quietly is the best approach.

"Alright."

Renn gave Xilen a deep look and didn't press the matter further.

Everyone has their own path. Since Xilun chose the safer option, it might be a kind of survival wisdom.

"Robert, since Celen isn't going, you'll represent me this time. Don't let me down."

"Yes, mentor."

Robert immediately responded, straightening his back ramrod straight.

Renn didn't say anything more and turned to leave the training room.

As the terrifying sense of oppression dissipated, the atmosphere in the training room relaxed slightly.

Robert did not follow immediately.

He turned around and walked up to Xilun. The two were less than half a meter apart, and were of similar height, but their auras were completely different.

Robert looked Xilen up and down, that sense of superiority returning to his face.

"Looks like I'm still too young."

Robert chuckled, shook his head, and turned to leave: "Stage fright? Afraid of losing? Or afraid of losing face in front of so many people?"

Fester was also somewhat puzzled.

People like Xilun, who come from ordinary families, don't have many resources to begin with.

Every trial opportunity should be a lifeline for him; he should seize it, fight for it, and hone his strength and fighting skills.

......

Sweat trickled down his back, dripping onto the floor and spreading into a small, dark stain.

Xilun was shirtless, his chest heaving violently like a fully drawn bellows.

With each breath, two visible white wisps of air would expel from his nostrils, like two tiny white snakes twisting and dissipating in the air.

[Iron Wall Breathing Technique: Proficient (406/500)]

The deep red data on the retina flickered slightly.

Xilun put away his stance and grabbed a towel to wipe his face.

Most of the people in the training room have already left.

Fester was grimacing as he applied safflower oil to his arm, where he had previously suffered bruises from Xilun.

Xilun looked around, his brow furrowing slightly.

That curly-haired kid who's always following me around asking all sorts of questions didn't come today.

"Have you seen Kanavi?"

Xilen draped the towel around his neck and asked casually.

"I didn't see him."

Fester gasped, rubbing his wound without looking up. "I think he said something happened at home and he had to take leave. That kid's been having a run of bad luck lately; I've noticed he's not really focused when he's practicing his boxing."

Xilun paused.

If it were a regular leave request, Kanavi would definitely have told me in advance.

That kid is a bit weak-willed and easily bullied.

A bad feeling crept into my mind.

Where does he live?

"It's the supermarket at the end of Baisuren Street; his dad manages it." Fester looked up, somewhat puzzled. "You're going to see him?"

"Let's go take a look."

He put on a coarse cloth shirt and carefully fastened the bronze badge that represented his status as a fraternal overseer inside the collar, blocking out the light.

Stepping out of the club, the sky outside was somewhat gloomy.

The afternoons in Saint Laurent are always shrouded in a layer of gray coal smoke, and the steam factory in the distance emits a dull roar, like a tireless behemoth.

Siren walked briskly along the street.

Baisuren Street is not far from here and is a relatively affluent area within the working-class district.

Ten minutes later.

A shop with a sign that read "Bai Sulun Supermarket" came into view.

The store was open, but it was deserted inside. The shelves looked rather empty, and a few stock clerks were chatting listlessly by the counter.

Xilun pushed open the door and entered.

The wind chimes rang.

A middle-aged man with a plump figure and a slightly balding head peeked out from behind the shelf.

He was wearing a slightly worn wool vest, his brow furrowed, and his face etched with frustration.

"Take what you need yourself. We're out of milk and eggs today."

The man's tone was very aggressive.

Xilun stood at the door, his gaze sweeping over the empty freezer area.

"Are you Canavie's father, Mr. Carlo?"

Upon hearing his son's name, the man's face instantly darkened.

He slammed the ledger in his hand onto the counter with a loud "smack".

"What trouble has that bastard gotten himself into this time?"

Carlo stormed out from behind the counter, spitting as he spoke. "I knew it! Sending him to learn some martial arts was a mistake! Every day, besides that pittance for tuition, he'd be stealing milk and eggs from the store to feed his cronies! And now look what's happened—did he injure someone? Or did he owe money and get harassed by customers?"

Xilun stared expressionlessly at the enraged man before him.

This is a typical small-time businessman from the streets.

She is shrewd, anxious, and full of resentment towards life, which she habitually vents on her seemingly weak son.

"He didn't cause any trouble."

Siren's voice was calm as he interrupted the other man's roar, "He didn't go to the club today. As his friend, I came to see what happened."

"Didn't go?"

Carlo paused for a moment, then sneered, "Where else could he go? He's probably hiding in some corner slacking off again, or using my money to fool around with shady characters! This kid is an ungrateful wretch, when will he ever give me a break?"

Xilun frowned.

He could hear the disappointment in Carlo's tone, but it was more of a transference of anger at his own incompetence.

"Mr. Carlo."

Siren emphasized, "Kanawi isn't that kind of person. He's hardworking and quite talented."

"What's the point of trying!"

Carlo waved his hand irritably. "Can it feed us? Can it help the family? We're starving, and he's still practicing his boxing!"

Xilun astutely grasped the key words.

"What trouble is happening at home?"

Xilun stepped forward, looking directly into Carlo's eyes. "I just saw the freezer was empty. I heard your supply chain has been disrupted?"

Carlo cautiously took a half step back, looking Xilun up and down.

He was dressed in ordinary work clothes. Although he was sturdy, he looked like an ordinary dockworker.

"This is none of your business, young man."

Carlo waved his hand impatiently, "This is an adult matter. What do you little brats who only know how to throw punches know? Hurry up and leave, don't delay my business."

Xilun pondered for a moment, then reached out and slowly opened his collar.

The bronze badge, which seemed particularly cold at this moment, reflected a faint glow in the dim light.

Brotherhood, Overseer's Bronze Badge.

The moment Carlo's expression flashed across his face, he subconsciously paused, then his expression changed slightly.

The initial impatience and disdain vanished instantly, replaced by caution.

"You're from White Crow Wharf... your position is..."

Carlo's voice stammered, and his back unconsciously bent over.

"I am the foreman of White Crow Wharf."