Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Running a ship...

Xilun pondered to himself.

In the Brotherhood's business, sailing is a notoriously tough job.

Not only do they have to endure the wind and sun on the Greywater River, but they also have to face checks by the water police, harassment from water ghosts, and even being double-crossed by other gangs.

The mortality rate is not low.

"What? You don't want to?" Losas raised an eyebrow.

"Your subordinate wouldn't dare," Xilun replied immediately.

"This is a demotion; it's more dangerous, but it also offers more opportunities."

Lothar looked at him meaningfully, "If you do a good job and run this line smoothly, proving your ability and loyalty, I'll have a chance to use you in the future. It'll also prevent my old subordinates on the locksmith side from having any complaints about you, saying I'm being nepotistic."

At this point, Lothar's voice suddenly turned cold, carrying a chilling killing intent.

"Of course, if you do a terrible job..."

He grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by tobacco. "I'll transfer you to work for that bunch of locksmith mad dogs, so you can fight them out among your own kind."

Xilun felt a chill in his heart.

This is an open conspiracy.

If he does a good job, it's because Lothar recognized his talent and appointed people wisely; if he dies, it's a good opportunity to eliminate dissidents.

But he had no choice.

"Thank you for your guidance, Lord Lothar." Siron bowed deeply, his tone so sincere that it was impossible to find fault with him. "Your subordinate will do his utmost."

Although Xilun had made many preparations and put on a facade for this incident, he never thought it would be over so easily.

As for the demotion, he didn't care at all.

As long as you're alive, and as long as you have a knife, anywhere can be a hunting ground.

"Go and prepare."

Lothas waved his hand, picked up the newspaper again, and said, "Take these two weeks to familiarize yourself with the situation. The official documents will be issued in two weeks."

"Yes."

Xilun took two steps back, turned around, and walked out of the office.

As the heavy mahogany door slowly closed, the cold wind blowing through the corridor instantly calmed his feverish mind.

He subconsciously touched his palm.

There, claws imbued with the corrupting aura of the "Dark Gold Subel Bear" slowly wriggled in response to his thoughts.

......

The hands of the brass pocket watch skipped past the 9:30 mark.

"Click!"

Xiren pushed open the door of the Iron Cross Fight Club. The clock on the wall showed that it was already 9:30.

A cold wind blew into the hall through the cracks in the door.

He had just arrived from White Raven Wharf. The order for the ship's transfer from Lothar had not yet been officially issued, and he had to arrange the handover of the wharf properly in the next two weeks.

After signing the last few shipping documents and printing the forms, a considerable amount of time had already been wasted.

The training room echoed with dull, resonant striking sounds.

Fester, shirtless, was frantically pounding a sandbag in the corner.

No one around dared to spar with him.

Since becoming a disciple of "Silver Lance Knight" Aldous, Fester's punches and kicks have become increasingly ruthless, and ordinary sparring partners can't withstand more than a few of his punches.

Hearing the door open, Fester stopped what he was doing.

He wiped the sweat from his hands, turned his head, and looked somewhat strange.

"Mentor Raine wants you to come over."

Xilun paused for a moment as he took off his clothes.

"Understood."

He nodded, hung his clothes on the coat rack, changed into his training clothes, and turned to walk towards the instructor's office at the end of the corridor.

The oak door was ajar, and Xilun pushed it open and entered.

The gas lamps inside were burning brightly, their light dispelling the winter chill.

Besides Ryan sitting behind his desk, there was another person standing in the room.

He was tall and thin, wearing a well-tailored white shirt with the collar open, revealing his collarbone.

Kyrie Irving.

Xilun recognized the face.

Among the disciples under Rein, this person's strength is second only to Robert.

But he rarely comes to the training room; he's usually nowhere to be seen.

Xiren walked over and stood next to Irving.

Irving turned his head and looked Xiren up and down.

He glanced at it for only a second before looking away, casually turning his head to look out the window, too lazy to pay any more attention.

Apart from Robert, Irving didn't take any of Ryan's students seriously.

Siren didn't care at all; he looked at Renn, waiting for him to continue.

Ryan put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin.

"You two are, in my opinion, second only to Robert in terms of your disciples."

Ryan's voice echoed in the quiet office, calm and without cadence.

Irving raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Ryan looked at Irving.

"Irving, your temper is too volatile."

"This makes you complacent and distorted when facing a more composed opponent. This is a fatal weakness."

Irving smirked, clearly unconvinced.

Raine turned to look at Xiren.

"Xilun, your comprehension is actually quite remarkable."

"But resource supply is your biggest weakness."

"You can only use the most basic secret medicines to refine your body and practice extraordinary abilities. This will slow down your progress."

Xilun remained silent.

What Ryan said is true.

Raine stood up and walked to the bookshelf.

"Although I can still teach you some fighting techniques."

"But in my opinion, there are more suitable skills for you to practice."

He pulled out a red hardcover booklet and weighed it in his hand.

"Breathing techniques and combat skills are the two cornerstones of training and improvement. This is an ironclad rule."

"But in real combat, we will use more techniques."

Ryan walked back to his desk and slammed the booklet on the surface.

"For example, the 'Art of Weakness' for tempering the body."

"The 'guiding technique' for circulating Qi."

"Or it could be a 'secret technique' used under special circumstances."

He looked at Xilun and made a point.

"For example, the Bone-Crushing Fist."

"It can be called a fighting technique, or it can be called a secret art."

"Police combat techniques have many moves and routines, emphasizing combos. But the Bone-Crushing Fist actually only has one move."

"Because its power generation distance is short, there is a noticeable stiffness and backswing after the strike. Although it is very short, it appears somewhat clumsy to experts."

"These limitations mean it can't be used all the time."

"You need to seize fleeting opportunities. And opportunities require the tempering of experience."

Ryan opened the red booklet and went straight to the second page.

"This contains the advanced combat techniques that are suitable for you to practice in the club."

"I believe that compared to my other trump cards, what I have here is more suitable for your current stage."

Xilun was about to step forward to see the writing on it more clearly.

Irving had already reached out and pulled the booklet in front of him.

He quickly scanned the entries, then his finger suddenly jabbed into one of the lines.

"Mentor, I choose this one."

Irving looked up, his tone resolute.

"Dorok Dark Claw Technique"

When Xilun heard this name, it sounded strangely familiar.

"That name sounds familiar. Is it a claw technique?"

Renn frowned, his face darkening.

"Irving, you have already mastered a fighting style that focuses on killing."

"Moreover, given your personality, I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to handle such a volatile technique."

Ryan tapped the table, his tone becoming more forceful.

"I would recommend that you practice defensive combat techniques to make up for your weaknesses."

"Or, put all your energy into practicing breathing techniques and get through the threshold of baptism as soon as possible."

Irving wouldn't listen to any advice.

He shoved the booklet back at Ryan, his neck stiffening.

"My mentor doesn't need to try to persuade me."

"This fighting technique is the most powerful and most formidable skill among all extraordinary fighting techniques."

"I definitely have to learn it."

Irving stared intently at Ryan.

"Moreover, I don't think there's anything wrong with my personality; I'm actually quite kind."

Renn's brows furrowed into a tight knot.

"Irving, listen to me..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

"tutor!"

Irving raised his voice, forcefully interrupting Ryan.

"There's nothing wrong with my personality."

"I also believe I am capable enough to master this fighting style."

He straightened up, bowed slightly, but his tone showed no sign of backing down.

"Please let me choose."