Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 82 Pre-departure Arrangements; Practical Drills

He quickly reviewed the situation in his mind.

The core of the silver armor and gauze robe is "overcoming strength with softness".

The yarn is woven with pneumatic force, making it extremely elastic and able to absorb and disperse impact.

The heavier the punch, the better the cushioning effect of the gauze, which is why the Bone-Crushing Fist cannot break through the defense.

Of course, this is also because Xilun and Fester are of similar strength.

If Siron was already a baptized, this silver veil would certainly not be able to withstand his bone-crushing fist.

But the claw technique is different.

Claws, fingers, guns—these types of combat techniques utilize the principle of "breaking through the surface with a single point."

The power is not spread out, but gathered at the fingertips, piercing through defenses like an awl.

No matter how supple a gauze garment is, it cannot withstand being pierced by five points simultaneously and then torn outwards.

This is a relationship of restraint.

Therefore, he only used four-tenths of his strength to achieve an effect that the Bone-Crushing Fist could not.

Despite the help of the Claws of Corruption.

Xilun looked at Fester, who was still leaning against the sandbag rack.

Fester snapped out of his daze, staring at his bare chest, his expression as if he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water.

"—I haven't even warmed my seat in fourth place yet."

His voice was muffled.

Xilun didn't respond.

He walked to the corner, picked up the water bottle, took a sip, and wiped his mouth.

Outside the window, the leaden sky hung low.

Fester muttered something behind him, probably swearing.

Xilun put down the kettle and flexed his fingers.

The power generation path of the Dark Claw Technique has been etched into muscle memory.

The passive ability of Corrupted Claws should be avoided as much as possible during practice.

He had already managed to control part of it; he would try to manipulate the power again when he got back.

The evening light seeped in through the cracks in the window, dim and yellowish.

Xilun hung his coat on the iron hook behind the door, unbuttoned his cuffs, and tore off his shirt, throwing it into the wooden tub.

After going through the whole process, my hand had already touched the towel rack.

The movement stopped.

He stood there, shirtless, tilting his head and thinking for a few seconds.

Something's not right.

Hot water!

Anman usually brings hot water up at this time every day, but she didn't today.

Xilun glanced at the sky outside the window, confirming that he hadn't returned too early.

He didn't rush to move, but leaned against the table and waited for a while.

Footsteps finally echoed in the corridor, hurried and slightly stumbling, as if they were jogging.

There were three knocks on the door, faster than usual.

Xilun opened the door.

An Man stood at the doorway, carrying a steaming copper kettle, a fawning smile plastered on his face, but the smile looked unnatural, with a slightly crooked corner of his mouth.

"Lord Sir, please forgive the late hot water supply today."

Xilun took the copper pot and glanced at Anman.

There was a bruise on Zuo Huan's bone, not very noticeable, but visible under the kerosene lamp in the corridor.

My right wrist is also swollen, and my fingers are shaking when I lift the kettle.

"How did this happen?"

An Man subconsciously hid her right hand behind her back.

"I fell; I didn't step properly going down the steps."

Xilun didn't ask any more questions, nodded, and closed the door.

Water from the copper kettle was poured into the basin, and steam rose up.

He washed his face, dried his neck and chest, and took out the nearly empty earthenware jar from a hidden compartment by the bedside.

The blood of the earth dragon.

He scooped out the last finger-knuckle amount of the dark brown ointment and applied it to his chest and the inside of his forearms.

The moment the ointment melted, a warm sensation surged up under the skin, as if something was slowly moving through the muscle fibers.

Xilun looked down at the pottery jar.

It's clean.

He placed the empty jar on the corner of the table, then took out the black box containing the deer antler cream and opened it.

There's still a little bit left inside, enough to last for a while.

The combined effects of the two medications caused the pores all over the body to open slightly, and a fine layer of sweat to seep out.

Xilun sat cross-legged on the bed, placed his hands on his knees, and began to practice the Iron Wall Breathing Technique.

Inhale, relax your shoulders, draw your breath to your lower abdomen, and then slowly exhale.

The pace is steady, neither rushed nor impatient.

The room fell silent, with only his even breathing remaining.

It was completely dark outside the window. Occasionally, someone would pass by in the corridor, their footsteps echoing in the distance before disappearing.

Deep within the retina, a stream of deep red data pulses slowly.

[Skill: Iron Wall Breathing Technique (Expert)]

[Progress: 77/1000]

At the current pace, it will take about three months.

In three months, he was promoted from an expert to a master.

Xilun exhaled a breath of stale air and opened his eyes.

He stared at a non-existent point in the darkness, pondering.

For ordinary but extraordinary individuals, the success rate of baptism by taking the Frostwolf Potion is 30%.

The cost of failure is not just the wasted eighteen pounds of potion money; one's energy and blood will also decline, and the body will need to recover, which will take at least several more months.

He didn't want to gamble.

If you can master the breathing technique, your success rate should increase even further.

If we could stack it to 100% —

Xilun clenched his fist; that felt so good.

He closed his eyes again and continued practicing the breathing technique until the effects of the medicine completely wore off before lying down to sleep.

The next morning, after having breakfast, Xilun went to the dock office.

Hevy had already stacked the day's documents on the table.

Xilun sat down and flipped through a few pages; they were all routine cargo lists and staff schedules.

He didn't even look up when he turned to the third page.

"Was anything unusual at the dock yesterday?"

Hevy stood beside the table, holding a notebook in her hands.

"Nothing serious."

"Tell me about even the small things."

Haiweier didn't speak immediately, but paused for a moment.

Xilun looked up at her.

"Please feel free to speak."

Hevi opened her notebook, speaking as calmly as possible.

"Many people are spreading rumors that you are going to be demoted."

Siren leaned back in his chair; it seemed the news had already spread.

He was to be transferred to work on ships, going from a dock supervisor to a minor shipping manager in charge of five sailors.

In terms of job prestige, it has indeed declined; in terms of job content, running goods on the Greywater River is much harder than sitting in an office.

"What exactly was sent?"

Hevil's fingers pinched the edge of the notebook.

"Some people are talking about your past. Some say you ambushed Master Xiu Suo while he was fighting the alien, while others say that Master Xiu Suo was killed because you ran away."

Xilun's lips twitched, but he didn't laugh.

That guess was pretty accurate!

"Anything else?"

"An Man spoke up for you and got into a dispute with another group of people."

Haiwei paused.

"The other party is an old subordinate of Master Locksmith, named Deed. He used to be in another group, but he resigned to learn breathing techniques and only came back last week. Now he works as a long-term laborer under us. He probably attacked Anman because he spoke up for you, and we beat him up."

An Man's bruises and swollen wrists matched up.

Xilun closed the file and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

Before I even left, someone jumped out and stepped on my foot.

"That Deed," Siron said, "is getting cocky now."

He thought for a moment: "How do I treat him?"

Haiweier didn't hesitate for long.

"There's a batch of high-altitude crane operations coming up soon; you can arrange for him to go."

Xilun nodded.

Working on a high-altitude crane is extremely dangerous; in strong winds, it's difficult to even stand. The work is strenuous and risky, so nobody wants to do it.

That's enough to make him suffer.

"Anything else?"

"You can check his reputation and disciplinary record to see if there are any oversights. If so, make a note of it in his work experience file."

Xilun nodded again.

A stain on your personnel file will be a thorn in your side, whether it's for a job transfer or a promotion.

Unless one's actions are truly flawless and every move complies with rules and regulations.

"Okay, I understand."

He paused for a few seconds, then changed the subject.

"What will you do after I'm gone?"

Haiwei smiled calmly.

"I'm returning to Lord Yuri's side."

Xilun didn't say anything more.

Haivier was originally sent by Yuri to help him; now that he's gone, she naturally has to go back.

“Give Aman an easier job,” Xiren said. “I’ll write a couple of nice things about his resume.”

Hevi nodded and noted it down.

Xiren sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

That's all I can do.

With his guidance and positive feedback in his file, Anman will have some advantage when competing with other farmhands in the future.

If you're lucky, you might be able to compete for the position of the next foreman's deputy.

If you don't make a living at the docks, you'll have more advantages if you go elsewhere.

As for anything else, he can't help.

Everyone has his own life.

The creaking of cranes turning came from the dock outside the window, and the shouts of the laborers drifted over from afar.

Xilun estimated the time.

In about two days, the official notification of the transfer should be issued.

boom!

Xilun withdrew his right palm, his five fingers feeling slightly numb.

Across from him, Fallon frowned.

He flexed his wrist, which was still sore from the impact, and stared at the hand that Xilun had just withdrawn.

Something's not right. After more than a week of sparring, Xilun's claw technique has improved at a rate that can no longer be described as "fast".

With each palm strike, the force from the other side grew heavier and more intense.

It's not brute force.

It's that kind of thing—something that seeps out from the bones.

Fallon clenched his fist, his knuckles still aching slightly.

When Xilun extended his claws, a very faint layer of dark gold hue floated on his palm, and the flow of his energy carried an indescribable sense of oppression.

It felt like being targeted by some wild beast.

That threatening feeling of claws approaching the skin wasn't feigned.

Fallon took a deep breath, said nothing, and simply readjusted his claws.

Xilun didn't notice the change in Faren's expression.

He looked down at his right palm, his brows furrowed slightly.

The dark golden aura had dissipated, and the palm had returned to normal.

He closed his eyes and focused his attention on the depths of his retina—the pale red area of ​​data stream was completely blank.

No new skills were generated.

Still zero.

After practicing for more than a week, I haven't even gotten close to the basics.

Xilun flipped his palm over; the restless itch deep in his finger bones was still there, but he was far from the "beginner level" of skill recognized by the panel.

The difficulty of Dorok's Dark Claw Technique was much higher than he had imagined.

He mastered police combat techniques in just a few days, and the Bone Crusher Fist was only a matter of a week or two.

This claw technique is quite something. Despite having the talent of the Corruption Claw as a foundation and a far superior understanding of the power generation path compared to other students of the same period, the stats on the character panel just don't light up.

What's missing?

"Stop everything."

Hughes's voice came from the front of the hall.

All students finished their postures and stood still.

With his hands behind his back, Hughes scanned the training ground, his gaze lingering briefly on several groups of trainees before finally settling on Xilun and Faron, where he nodded slightly.

"The sparring session ends here."

He walked to the blackboard and tapped the chalk on the board twice.

"Before get out of class ends, let's do a practical test."

The trainees exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with eager anticipation.

After a week of theoretical lectures, they were finally bursting with frustration.

"Shuthers continued."

"Starting from the ninth group, each group will challenge a member whose group number is one place higher than their own. The ninth group will challenge the eighth group, the eighth group will challenge the seventh group, and so on, until the challenge is completed."

He paused for a moment, then added, "When I was grouping the students, I arranged them according to the length of time they had practiced the breathing technique. The smaller the group number, the deeper their energy and the more solid their foundation."

The chalk drew a vertical line on the blackboard.

"But what does it mean if people in higher-ranked groups can win—for example, group nine winning against group eight?"

Hughes asked and answered himself: "This shows that despite his weaker physical strength, he has a deeper understanding of the Dark Claw Technique. Understanding the technique can compensate for the lack of physical strength; this is the core of combat skills."

As soon as he finished speaking, the atmosphere in the training field heated up instantly.

Several students in the front row had already started flexing their wrists. Those in the back rows didn't say anything, but their fists were clenched.

Xilun clenched his fist.

But his attention wasn't on anyone else.

After several days of repeated attempts, he finally found a precise control path—to completely lock the power of the Corrupting Claw between the joints of his palm, preventing it from overflowing.

That layer of grayish-black corrosive aura was now suppressed in the gaps between his finger bones, not a trace of it could seep out.

It won't hurt anyone.

Even without the passive bonus from the Corruption talent, his Dark Claw skill progress was still faster than most people.

the reason is simple.

He killed the Dark Gold Subel Bear.

His bones harbored the instinctive claws of that beast.

Each time he uses the Dorok Dark Claw Technique, that instinct leaves an extremely subtle correction on his power path—the angle of the palm heel's outward rotation, the timing of the fingertips' retraction, and the point at which the power is channeled into the metacarpal bone.

These corrections are invisible to the naked eye, but over time, his claw shape and power have far surpassed those of his peers.

Based on his own observations, he would most likely be the one who gets the hang of things the fastest out of the eighteen people.

"Group Nine, come out."

With a command from Hughes.

Xilun pushed aside his thoughts, stood up, and stepped out of the queue.

Fallon also stepped forward, and the two stood side by side in the center of the field.

On the opposite side, the two trainees from the eighth group were already in position.

Xilun's opponent was a young man of medium build, with calm features and standing very upright.

Xilun walked up to him and clasped his hands in greeting.

"Silon".

The other person nodded.

"Jesus".

The moment the words left his mouth, Jess made the first move.

He flipped his right palm over, making it into a claw, and dark golden energy surged outward along his metacarpal bones, his claw grabbing straight at Xilun's chest.

The power application path is very accurate, and the hand shape is clean.

Group 8's foundation is indeed more solid than Group 9's.

But that's all.

Xilun did not retreat.

He raised his right hand, also in a claw shape, to meet the attack.

The two palms touched.

boom.

A dull thud echoed across the training ground.

Jess's arm suddenly sank, and the claw shape was instantly broken.

His five fingers uncontrollably curled outwards, and the dark golden luster that had just gathered on his palms scattered and dissipated as if crushed by something.

Xilun's right hand cut through the shattered energy, his five fingers precisely gripping Jess's wrist.

The whole process took less than half a second.

Jess froze on the spot, looking down at his wrist that was being gripped, his expression shifting from focused to bewildered.

Hughes's voice was completely flat.

"Group Nine, Xilun, wins."

On the other side of the field, Fallon also defeated his opponent at the same moment.

Hughes glanced at the two of them.

"Xilun and Farun have been promoted to Group 8 and will challenge Group 7 tomorrow. The original Group 8 has been relegated to Group 9, and can try to challenge Group 8 tomorrow."

He turned to the other students.

"Seven groups, challenge six groups, come up."

Silen released Jess's wrist and retreated to the sidelines.

Jess rubbed his aching joints, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything in the end. He lowered his head and walked back.

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