Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The hall was empty except for the crackling fire in the fireplace.

A figure was squatting by the fireplace, holding a poker and idly poking at the nearly burnt-out charcoal.

Hearing the door open, the person looked up, revealing a slightly tired but still refined face.

It's Fester.

He was yawning, completely unladylike, wrapped in a silk bathrobe.

"If you come back any later, I'm going to bed."

Fester stood up, his eyes sweeping over Siren before finally settling on his slightly stiff left shoulder and chest.

"What are you doing here?" Xilun's voice was a little hoarse. He didn't stop walking and went straight to the stairs.

"I live here too, have you forgotten?"

Fester shrugged and followed, his voice low. "I just heard from a friend at the Metropolitan Police Department that something big happened at the Dragon Bar, a lot of people died. I guessed you were either at the scene or on your way there."

He quickened his pace and stood beside Xilen, his nose twitching slightly.

"The smell of blood, though covered by the wind and snow, can't hide it from me."

Xilun stopped and glanced at him.

Fester pointed to the second floor: "Come to my place, room 203. I have first-aid supplies and tools there."

Xilun paused for two seconds, then nodded: "Thank you."

......

Room 203

The room was larger than the one in Xilun, with a thick carpet on the floor and a faint lavender scent in the air.

Xiren sat in the chair and took off his trench coat and blood-soaked shirt.

Fester gasped.

On that strong, well-defined chest, a dark bullet hole was clearly visible.

The muscles around the wound were in a strangely tense state, as if they were alive and squeezing inward, forcefully stopping the gushing blood.

"Is this the level of control one achieves when breathing techniques are practiced to a high level?"

Fester clicked his tongue in amazement, but his movements were swift. He skillfully took out an exquisite first-aid kit from the cabinet, lit an alcohol lamp, and heated a silver scalpel and tweezers over the flame.

"Bear with it, there's no anesthesia."

"Let's get started."

Xilun picked up a clean piece of gauze from the table and put it in his mouth.

Fester stopped talking nonsense and his eyes became focused.

The cold blade sliced ​​through the charred flesh and probed into the wound.

Xilun's body trembled violently.

In that instant, cold sweat poured out like a torrent, instantly soaking his back.

But he didn't utter a sound.

He bit down hard on the gauze, his eyes fixed on the chandelier on the ceiling, controlling every muscle in his body.

He could clearly feel the tweezers moving between the flesh and bone, making a teeth-grinding scraping sound when they touched the hard ribs.

"Found it."

Fester whispered something and flicked his wrist.

"bite."

A deformed lead bullet was tossed into the tray with a crisp sound.

Xilun exhaled a breath of stale air, as if he had been pulled out of the water. The muscles in his chest began to twitch slightly due to prolonged tension.

"Your skin... is as tough as cowhide."

While quickly cleaning, stitching, and applying medicine to the wound, Feist exclaimed, "For an ordinary person, a rib would have been broken long ago after taking this kind of blow, but yours is only stuck in the muscle layer."

He wrapped the white bandages tightly around Xilen's chest, tying them into a neat knot.

"Alright, although I'm not an extraordinary doctor, I've practiced this skill many times in the family hunting team."

Fester wiped the blood off his hands and handed Xilen a glass of warm water. "You'll recover in a few days. With your constitution, this isn't considered a serious injury."

Xilun took the water glass and drank it all in one gulp.

The warm liquid slid down his esophagus into his stomach, restoring some sensation to his cold hands and feet.

Thanks.

Xilun stood up and walked to the full-length mirror in the room.

The mirror reflected the upper body of a young man. Bandages were wrapped around his muscular torso, exuding a savage tension.

He reached out and wiped the fog off the mirror, looking at his face.

It was a young face with sharp, angular features.

Pale, indifferent, with eyes as deep as a stagnant pool.

Just now in the bar, he used those hands to smash Irma's heart without hesitation and slit another person's throat.

kill.

Things that used to seem unattainable or even terrifying are now surprisingly easy to do tonight.

There was no nausea, no fear, only an almost mechanical calmness and calculation.

I guess I've gotten used to it.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fester leaned against the table, toying with the bloodstained lead bullet in his hand, looking at Siron through the reflection in the mirror.

"I'm thinking..."

Looking at himself in the mirror, Xiren slowly said, "This face looks very young, even a bit immature. But when I was killing just now, I felt as calm as if I had done it many times before."

Fester smiled.

He picked up his cane, walked over to Xiren, and looked at the two people in the mirror.

One exuded nobility yet had a playful look in his eyes; the other came from a poor background yet was full of murderous intent.

"Sirlen, do you know? Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like there's a soul inside you that doesn't belong to Chongqing."

Feist tapped the floor lightly with his cane, his tone becoming somewhat deep, like that of a bard.

"I've heard a saying about conscience."

"Conscience?" Xilun raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, conscience."

Feist gestured a triangle, saying, "The old folks say that a person's conscience is actually a triangular thing inside the heart."

"When a person does something wrong for the first time, this triangle will spin in their heart. Its sharp three points will cut the tender flesh of the heart."

Fester's voice echoed in the quiet room.

"That's why people feel heartache, guilt, sleeplessness, and feel the pangs of conscience."

Xilun looked at himself in the mirror without saying a word.

"but……"

Fester's smile deepened, tinged with a cold indifference born of worldly wisdom. "If this person keeps doing bad things, keeps killing, keeps violating principles..."

"That triangle will keep rotating and grinding."

"Gradually, those three sharp corners were worn down."

Fester released his grip, his fingers drawing a circle in the air.

Finally, it became a circle, round and smooth.

"At this point, no matter what bad things you do, no matter how much it swirls in your heart, you will no longer feel pain."

Xilun remained silent for a long time.

He raised his hand and gently pressed it against his bandaged chest.

There was only the pain of the wound, but no sound of conscience being torn apart.

"A round conscience, huh...?"

Xilun repeated it in a low voice.

He turned around, picked up the shirt hanging on the back of the chair, and put it on deftly, covering his scars and bandages.

"If it weren't round, in this world, hearts would have been pierced long ago."

Xilun fastened the last button and transformed back into the cold, hard Brotherhood overseer.

"I'm gone."

He opened the door.

"Go to bed early, Fester. You have training tomorrow."

Fester watched Siren's retreating figure disappear through the doorway, shrugged, and casually tossed the deformed lead bullet into the trash can.

"What a terrifying guy."