Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

The bony claw tips had a dull ivory white hue, embedded in the nail, and extended nearly an inch beyond the nail.

Next are the middle finger, ring finger, little finger, and thumb.

Left hand synchronization.

Ten claws grow from the ten fingers, wedged into the joints, and integrated with the skin and flesh.

Xilun frowned.

A thought crossed my mind.

The claw retracted half an inch, then disappeared completely under the skin, and the finger returned to its original shape without even a wound.

He had another idea.

The claws reappeared.

Just like the Black Scale talent, it appears that scales have grown to cover its body, but in reality, it is more of a black membrane.

Those who are not in the know will only assume it is a means of exerting some kind of force.

This time, he observed the entire process carefully.

Not just the claws.

As ten bone claws emerged from the flesh, the entire palm swelled up.

The veins on the back of my hands bulged, and a thick callus quickly formed on the surface of my skin. The pads of my palms and fingertips became rough and hard, feeling like they were covered with old tree bark.

Both hands are almost a third bigger than before.

Xilun flipped his palm over and clenched his fist.

Shen!

Each finger felt more than twice as heavy, and the resistance to joint movement increased, but the feedback of the force was extremely clear—it was as if a pair of human hands had been replaced with a pair of miniature bear paws.

The long knife that Xiu left behind was still lying in the cave.

The blade was covered with spiderweb-like cracks, and most of the edge was curled up, but it was, after all, a weapon used by a baptized person, and its steel was much harder and more solid than ordinary iron.

Xilun bent down to pick it up, gently pinching the middle of the blade between two fingers.

With a little force.

The cracks spread from the clamping point to both ends, making a fine creaking sound, like stepping on ice.

He increased the pressure, trying to test the power of the claw.

Click.

The blade broke in half, with two pieces of the broken blade lying on the ground. The cut was clean, but the metallic texture on the cross-section was distorted by the pinching.

Xilun stared at the small, flattened section of the blade's spine in his hand, the bone claw on his thumb leaving two clear scratches on the broken steel.

He threw away the scrap iron and shook his hand.

A warm sensation was gathering in my palm.

It's not about physical strength.

It is rougher and more restless than physical strength.

It felt like a ball of red-hot iron filings swirling between the metacarpal bones, growing denser and denser, faintly burning hot.

Xilun raised his right hand, his five fingers slightly spread.

A faint, grayish-black flame emanated from the gap between the bone claws, as faint as freshly lit charcoal ash scattered by the wind.

He swung it forward.

It wasn't a deliberate attack; it was just a tentative slap.

A gray-black wave of claw-like energy shot out from between the five claw tips.

The shape of the air blast was exactly the same as the outline of a bear's paw—five parallel arcs, slightly concave in the middle and slightly upturned on both sides, like a blurred giant claw slapping out from the air.

Bang!

A cloud of rubble and dust exploded on the cave wall three steps away.

When the dust settled, Xilun went over to take a look.

There was a clear claw mark embedded in the stone wall.

Five grooves, each about half a finger deep, with the rocks at the edges torn into jagged fragments. The stone surface at the bottom of the grooves is blackened, as if it has been corroded by something.

Xilun reached out and touched the edge of the groove.

The stone is hot.

He withdrew his hand, stood still, and stared at the claw mark for a long time.

This distance.

This destructive power.

He remembered the first lesson.

Mentor Ryan stood behind the window, and through the glass, he exerted his strength to snap off branches from the trees outside the window.

That's a skill only a second-tier Ripper possesses—extending energy outwards for long-range attacks.

Now, someone who hasn't even been baptized yet, with these claws, he swung his hand and, from a distance of two or three steps, left a mark half a finger deep on the stone wall.

What if you pat it on a person?

Xilun looked down at his deformed hands.

Thick calluses covered the entire palm, and ten bony claws emerged from the fingertips, gleaming with a cold white luster.

A lingering grayish-black aura remained in my palm, slowly dissipating like embers after a fire had burned out.

A pale red stream of data flickered on his retina.

Information is arranged and formed before my eyes at an extremely fast speed.

[Talent: Corrupted Claws]

[Source: Dark Gold Subel Bear]

[Effect: Corrodes skin and flesh, hindering wound healing; tears and forces.]

[Can consume Claw Breath to unleash a claw wave that leaves the body (requires Qi and Blood to regenerate after use, with a regeneration cycle of twelve hours)]

Xilun read each line twice.

The flesh and skin rotted.

These four words reminded him of the image of Superbear killing the tall, thin man.

When that palm struck, the tall, thin man's head looked like it had been ground down by a millstone, and his entire body, from his shoulders up, was covered in mud.

The same goes for lock repair. After being torn open by claws, the pieces of flesh and cloth are mixed together, making it impossible to distinguish which piece is a person and which piece is clothing.

At the time, he thought it was just brute force.

It seems that's not entirely true now.

The claws themselves have a corrosive effect, and once they tear open the flesh, the wound cannot heal on its own.

This is meaningless to ordinary people; one swipe of the claw and the person is crushed.

But for the extraordinary, this is deadly restraint.

The skin of the person being baptized is tough, and their strength can temporarily enhance their body. Even if they are punched and lose a layer of skin, they can recover after a few days of rest.

The Claws of Corruption have blocked this path.

Tearing through protective energy means that even if the opponent uses breathing techniques to resist, the claws can break through the protective layer formed by the energy and directly injure the body.

In addition, there's the ability to use long-range attacks.

Xilun closed his eyes and went through the three effects in his mind.

A single claw strike at close range can pierce armor, a single palm strike at long range can shatter stone, and the wounds never heal.

If this were applied to a first-order baptized being, even someone with skin of copper and bones of iron wouldn't be able to withstand it for long.

It is much more powerful than a gun.

But it's not without limitations.

Twelve hours.

Once used, the heat flow in the claws must be regenerated, relying on the body's own blood and energy to stimulate its growth. It cannot be used a second time for a full half day.

Xilun took a deep breath, and with a thought, the bone claws slowly retracted under the skin, and the thick palm returned to its original size.

The calluses on my palms have disappeared, the cracks on my fingertips have closed, and there are no traces left on the surface.

He flexed his fingers.

Exactly the same as before.

No one could tell that these hands had just grown ten bone claws capable of shattering steel and splitting stone.

Xilun squatted down, tore off a relatively clean piece of cloth from the locksmith's corpse to wipe his hands, then stood up and looked around the cave.

Two corpses.

A bear.

Blood was everywhere.

He needs to handle the situation.

......

The flame of the gas lamp flickered gently inside the glass cover, making a soft hissing sound.

Xilun sat on a hardwood chair against the wall, his hands resting on his knees, his fingertips gently stroking the rough fabric.

He heard muffled conversation coming from the corridor outside. The voices sounded somewhat familiar, but he didn't bother to identify them.

He was adjusting his breathing.

The muscle soreness left from last night's fight in the cave is being slowly suppressed with each use of the "Iron Wall Breathing Technique".

The bruise on his chest, scratched by the claw waves, was now faintly burning.

The doorknob turned, making a soft click.

A middle-aged man wearing a black double-breasted trench coat walked in; it was Lothar.

Behind him followed an elderly man with gray hair and a gaunt face.

Xilun immediately stood up and bowed slightly in greeting.

Lothas ignored him, walked straight to the high-backed chair behind the desk, sat down, unbuttoned his collar, and looked somewhat irritated.

He turned to the old man, his tone casual: "What did Lord Yuri say?"

The old man didn't sit down, but stood in the shadows, his voice as calm as still water: "What the master means is that the mess left by the locksmith will be temporarily handled by the four of you. Until all the new people arrive, the business cannot stop, and there can be no mistakes."

Lothas nodded slightly and let out a chuckle through his nose.

"That's certainly Lord Yuri's style. He doesn't care about the process or whether people live or die; he only cares about the result."

The old man didn't reply, but simply bowed slightly before turning and leaving the room.

As the door closed again, the air inside seemed to freeze for a moment.

Lothas took a cigar out of his pocket, paused on the table, but did not light it.

He raised his eyelids, and for the first time, his cloudy yet sharp eyes fell on Xilun.

"You can leave now."