Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Xilun remained silent for a moment.

He put down his wine glass, the bottom of which tapped softly against the wooden table.

"How much do you know about that Erma?" Siren asked.

Kanavi swallowed hard, trying to recall: "I remember... he used to work at the 'Iron Thorn Golden Knife' club. It was an old-established fight club in the North District, and I heard he trained there for half a year. But after he left, I heard he rarely practiced breathing techniques or fighting skills anymore."

At this point, Kanavi paused, seemingly assessing the threat level. "Baptism is unlikely, since that stage requires a large amount of potion resources. However... he's probably very close to that realm. His uncle is a minor leader in the Razorfen Downs and has a considerable amount of resources for refining skin membranes."

Just then, the previously noisy atmosphere in the bar suddenly subsided.

The wind chimes at the door were slammed shut.

A thin man with a distinctive hooked nose and a long face walked in.

He wore an open leather jacket with a gold chain peeking out from the collar, and was followed by two henchmen with sinister eyes, like vultures patrolling their territory.

The thugs who had been sitting at the bar drinking immediately stood up, their faces plastered with fawning smiles, and shouted in unison, "Brother Erma!"

Irma nodded slightly, his gaze not lingering on Siren and Kanavi in ​​the corner, and walked straight to the innermost private room.

"Has that woman been invited?" he asked casually.

One of the henchmen immediately stepped forward and whispered, "It's inside the house; it's already prepared for you."

With a faint smile on his lips, Erma pushed open the door and walked into the private room.

The door to the private room wasn't closed properly.

Through the crack, Xiren saw a young girl curled up inside.

She was wearing the uniform of St. Laurent Public School, her white shirt stained with a little dust, and she looked like a frightened little quail, trembling.

Irma sat on the sofa with an air of superiority, looking the girl up and down, and let out a flippant whistle.

"She's still a student."

He leaned closer to the girl, his strong stench of cigarettes and alcohol hitting her face. "How old is your sister?"

The girl's body trembled violently, and with a sob in her voice, she weakly replied, "Ten...sixteen."

"Sixteen."

Irma laughed, his laughter laced with undisguised malice. "Sixteen's old enough to have children. If you give me a son, I'll waive the 'security fee' your father owes and keep his job. How about it?"

Tears welled up in the girl's eyes instantly, and her body trembled even more violently: "Irmagine, please, please let my father go... We really have no money left..."

Irma frowned, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of rage.

"Why are you crying?"

He suddenly reached out, grabbed the girl's hair, and forced her to look up. "It's not like I forced you to do this! That old bastard of your father dared not pay his security fee and even dared to slap me in the street! I only cut off one of his hands; that's already doing the Razor Gang a favor!"

As he spoke, he reached his rough, large hand directly into the collar of the girl's school uniform.

"ah--!"

The girl screamed and struggled, but Irma held her down firmly.

Seemingly annoyed by the girl's crying, a fierce glint flashed in Irma's eyes, and he slapped the girl hard across the face.

"Snapped!"

The crisp sound of slaps echoed in the private room.

The girl's face instantly swelled up on one side, and a trickle of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth.

"Cry, cry, cry! If you cry again, I'll kidnap your father and do it to you in front of him!" Irma roared viciously.

The girl was so frightened that her whole body stiffened. She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face, but she dared not make a sound.

Xilun sat outside, his brows slightly furrowed.

He didn't like this kind of scene.

Kanavi, who was standing to the side, could no longer sit still. Besides being anxious to wait, he also had an instinctive urge to help the woman in front of him.

"Irmago!"

Kanavi suddenly stood up, his voice trembling with nervousness.

Erma paused in his movements inside the private room, turned around, and his cold gaze pierced through the half-open door, landing on Kanavi.

He paused for a moment, seemingly trying to remember who this was, before a playful expression appeared on his face.

"Oh, it's you."

Irma pulled his hand out of the girl's clothes, wiped it casually on her skirt, and slowly walked out.

The girl huddled in the corner of the sofa, biting her lip, too afraid to cry, her eyes empty and desperate.

Erma walked up to Kanavi and was half a head taller than him.

He reached out and gently patted Kanavi's cheek, making a soft "slap slap" sound.

"I remember you."

Irma grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained yellow from smoking. "Your father, that stubborn old man, kept dragging his feet on paying the bill, and the other day he even dared to slap me in public. Tsk tsk, made me lose face in front of my brothers."

Kanavi's body was stiff, and his legs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, suppressing his fear: "Irma, don't take it to heart with my father. He's old and his mind isn't clear. Please be magnanimous... about our family's supply..."

"Supply?"

Irma looked like he'd heard a joke, and his expression instantly turned ferocious.

"Snapped!"

Without warning, a heavy slap landed on Kanavi's face.

Kanavi staggered from the blow, half of his face quickly swelled up, and his ears were ringing.

"This isn't over!"

Irma pointed at Kanavi's nose, spitting all over his face. "I've been in this business for so many years, and this is the first time I've ever lost face like this! Want to resume supply? Fine!"

He stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and a cruel glint flashed in his eyes.

"Your father hit me with his right hand."

Irma pointed to Kanavi's right hand hanging by his side. "You're his son, so the sins of the father must be visited upon the son. Fold your right hand up, then kneel down and kowtow to me ten times, and this matter will be over. Oh, and by the way, the security fee for this year still needs to be paid."

Kanavi turned pale and instinctively covered his right hand with his left.

Just the day before yesterday, he was still sweating it out at the Iron Cross Club with this hand, hoping to develop his sense of energy, become a contracted fighter like Siren, and find a stable, respectable job that could support his family.

A broken right hand?

That would mean his fighting career was completely over, and he wouldn't even be able to do manual labor anymore.

He stood there, his face showing hesitation, struggle, and pain, like a trapped beast in dire straits.

Irma smiled as he observed Kanavi's expression.

He likes that expression.

The expression of a weak person struggling in despair greatly satisfies his inferiority complex and twisted heart, making him feel like a strong person who controls life and death.

Back in the "Iron Thorn Golden Knife" club, every one of those exceptionally talented students was better than him.

In every sparring session, he was always the one being used as a punching bag.

Cleaning the toilet and emptying the foot bath water were also his responsibilities.

He never forgot the humiliation of being trampled underfoot by senior students.

at last.

He made it through.

Although he hadn't achieved anything remarkable, thanks to his uncle's connections, he was king in this neighborhood!

He can bully these ordinary people with no background at will, venting the humiliation he suffered in the past on others tenfold!