Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 89 Robert's Recruitment, Brief Encounter

He threw the fish bones into the river and wiped his hands clean.

The dock was brought ashore, and Xilun jumped onto the pier, said goodbye to Mark, and left.

After crossing three blocks, the sign for the Iron Cross Fight Club came into view.

Xilun pushed open the door and went in, changing into his training clothes.

I did some quick calculations to find out the dates.

After a while, another eight weeks have passed.

It has been exactly four months since he stepped into the realm of the extraordinary.

Four months ago, he was a newly promoted labor foreman at White Crow Wharf, with only a few shillings in his pocket and unable to afford even a decent meal.

now--

Iron Wall Breathing Method, Expert Level.

Bone-crushing Fist, beginner level.

Dorok's Dark Claw Technique, mastered.

Basic marksmanship, for beginners.

Basic cross technique, for beginners.

There are also three talents plundered from alien species.

Black scales, corrupted claws, swimming!

The harvest was acceptable.

Xilun walked to the wooden dummy in the corner, lowered his shoulders and elbows, and began his routine claw technique practice.

He clenched his fingers, and his strength tore outwards along the metacarpal bones, a flash of dark golden light appearing at his fingertips.

He deliberately suppressed the passive nature of the Corruption Claws and only practiced the path of force exertion.

One claw, two claws, three claws.

The surface of the wooden stake was scratched with deep marks.

At the same time, he was calculating another matter in his mind.

The progress of the Iron Wall Breathing Method is now over 360.

The threshold for master level is one thousand.

At the current rate, and with the aid of ointment, it will take about two more months.

By then, once the breathing technique reaches the master level, the success rate of baptism will be around 70-80%.

The safest option is to buy Frostwolf Potions at that time to try and reach Tier 1.

"Let's find an opportunity today to clarify the details of the baptism."

He withdrew his claws and wiped away his sweat.

When you feel at ease, you won't panic when you're doing something.

evening.

Xiren knocked on the door of Renn's office.

"Come in."

He pushed the door open and went in.

Ryan sat behind the table with a document spread out beside him.

There was another person standing in front of the table.

Robert.

Xilen walked over and stood behind Robert without saying a word.

Ryan glanced at Siron, then turned to Robert and continued, "I understand what you're saying. Speaking of which, you're at the baptism stage now. You certainly have the potion at home, and I don't need to remind you of the other preparations."

He paused, his tone becoming more serious.

I'll just mention one point.

Robert and Celen simultaneously tensed up slightly.

"I don't need to explain your identity. Your desire for success is far stronger than mine."

Ryan stared into Robert's eyes.

"But I hope you won't take a risky approach. You have many more opportunities."

Robert nodded. "I understand."

His tone was calm, making it impossible to tell how much he had listened.

He turned his head, glanced at Xilun, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

"It seems Junior Xilun also has something to ask. Go ahead, I'll listen, maybe I can help."

Xilun didn't look at him; the light fell on Renn.

"Teacher, I would like to ask about the details of baptism. What preparations should be made before baptism, and what should be noted during the process?"

The words fell.

The office fell silent for a moment.

Robert turned around to face Celen.

His pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Four months.

This poor boy from the countryside is only four months old and is already close to being baptized.

As the eldest son of a baron, Robert took nearly a year to reach the stage of approaching baptism.

Renn's brow twitched slightly.

He knew that Siron's Iron Wall Breathing Technique had long since surpassed the expert level, but he was still some distance away from baptism.

"How's the situation now?" Ryan asked. "Have you sensed some kind of barrier?"

Xilun shook his head.

"Not yet. I just wanted to let you know in advance, just to put my mind at ease."

Robert breathed a sigh of relief.

Robert quietly loosened his clenched fist and wiped the sweat from his palms.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, his tone returning to its usual calm.

"Without much preparation, just remember three things."

He held up his finger.

"First, get your body into optimal condition. Second, prepare spiritual incense to calm your mind and prevent distractions during the breakthrough process. Third, control your energy and circulate it in your daily routine until you feel some kind of shackle within your body."

He looked at Xilun.

"Break free from it, and you will become a first-order extraordinary being."

Xilun nodded, keeping it in mind.

"Thank you, mentor."

He turned and pushed open the door to leave.

Robert followed behind, and the two walked side by side down the corridor.

"Silon".

Robert's tone sounded casual.

"You're making good progress. I reckon you'll be baptized in another three or four months, right?"

"well enough."

Xilun gave a vague reply without elaborating.

Robert stopped walking.

"etc."

Xilun also stopped.

"You seem to be from the countryside?"

Robert pondered.

"A small village," Siren said calmly.

Robert nodded, as if casually remarking, "With your talent, you might have a chance to become a third-tier extraordinary being. Do you know what that means?"

Xilun didn't respond.

Robert continued speaking to himself.

"First-order baptized beings have tough skin and immense strength. Second-order rippers have skin and flesh like steel, impenetrable by old-fashioned pistols. Third-order beings are deformed."

His tone held a newfound eagerness.

"Those who practice Yi Jin Jing (a form of internal energy cultivation) become as light as swallows, able to run at high speed on walls and rocks. Such individuals can be granted the title of high-ranking knight and support an organization in the lower city, developing it into a formidable family."

He looked at Siren: "The chief of the Iron Cross Club, Lord Shusidis, is a high-ranking knight."

Xilun turned his head away.

"What do you mean by all this?"

Robert smiled.

"Don't you want to be that kind of person? A distinguished guest of all organizations in the lower city, a respected high knight. Even baronial families would greet him with deference. If you join the church, you can directly become a yellow-robed priest."

Xilun looked at him.

"What difference does it make whether I want to or not to think about it?"

Robert then revealed his true purpose.

"I am the eldest son of a baronial family. If you become my prospective knight and help me clear obstacles, I will support you to become the family's chief knight."

He extended his hand: "Let's help each other."

Xilun looked at the hand.

"Let me think about it some more."

He turned to leave.

The smile on Robert's face vanished.

"Wait a minute."

A hand reached out from behind, gripping Xilun's shoulder with great force.

Xilun's hair stood on end instantly.

He didn't break free, but instead turned around abruptly, clenched his right fist, poured all his strength into it, and slammed it down face to face.

boom!

The two fists collided head-on.

thump thump thump—

The two of them each took two steps back.

The air in the corridor seemed to tremble.

Robert slowly withdrew his fist, cracked his wrist, and his expression remained unchanged.

"Your Bone-Crushing Fist technique is quite good."

His tone was calm, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes.

"Unfortunately, this fighting technique is too basic; it can only be considered an entry-level extraordinary fighting technique. Compared to our family's profound fighting techniques..."

He raised his right hand.

Strength surged from his palms, and brownish-yellow scales appeared on the back of his hands, spreading from the base of his fingers all the way to his wrist.

His entire hand became rough and heavy, as if covered with a layer of rock.

"The Hand of the Giant Rock"

He glanced at Xilun with a hint of regret: "It seems you still have some arrogance in your heart, but unfortunately, with your strength, you don't have the right to be arrogant in front of me."

"Perhaps you do have some potential, but compared to me, the legitimate son of a baron, you're still far behind!"

The next moment, Robert stepped forward and his petrified fist came crashing down.

boom!

Xilun raised his hand to block, his five fingers spread wide, and a dark golden luster flashed between his fingers.

The outlines of claws and teeth faintly appeared in the palm of his hand.

Robert's massive fist struck Celen's palm, and a decaying, rotten aura emanated from the point of contact.

laugh-

Fine cracks appeared on the brownish-yellow rock shell, as if it had been corroded by acid, and it quickly disintegrated.

Robert sensed it.

The opponent was weaker than him, but the thing attached to the claw technique felt like something rotting, drilling into his flesh along the surface of the fist.

boom!

The two separated.

Xilun looked down at his palm, where a shallow, slightly reddish bloodstain had been drawn.

"Such solid palm strike!"

Robert also lowered his head.

His right hand still retained the shape of the giant rock hand, but the rock layer in his palm had shattered into dust, revealing the bloody and mangled skin underneath.

Five clear claw marks, deep enough to expose the bone.

He looked up sharply.

Xilun had already turned around and was walking slowly towards the end of the corridor.

His back was calm, his steps were steady, and he didn't even turn his head.

Robert stood there, his chest heaving violently.

He looked down at his right hand, which was crushed to pieces, with blood dripping from between his fingers onto the floor.

His face was so gloomy it looked like it could be wrung out of water.

He actually lost that one move!

The restaurant at the Golden Rooster Hotel was dimly lit.

Xiren sat by the window, with a plate of potato and pork stew, two slices of dark bread, and a glass of warm milk in front of him.

I just got into a fight with Robert, and my stomach is growling really badly.

He tore off a piece of bread, dipped it in the broth, put it in his mouth, chewed it twice, swallowed it, and then scooped up a spoonful of stew.

The potatoes were stewed until very soft, and the pork was a bit tough, but it was hot.

My mind was working even while I was eating.

I've been fighting quite a few times these days, and I'm gradually figuring out the logic behind those tactics.

If there is a large difference in strength, the outcome can be decided in three to five moves.

Even those with small differences in skill level only need about twenty or thirty moves.

The scenes in TV dramas where they fight for three days and three nights are pure nonsense.

When going all out, you need to process your breathing rhythm, fighting movements, footwork, environmental features, and the strengths and weaknesses of your opponent and yourself simultaneously.

It consumes a great deal of energy.

It can completely deplete a person's mental energy in just two or three minutes.

Therefore, in battles where the strength is similar, the key is who can seize the weakness first and who can make the first mistake.

He took another sip of milk and cleaned the stew off the plate.

Footsteps came from the doorway.

Feist walked in, wrapped in a thick woolen coat, and shook the snow off his shoulders.

The two nodded slightly.

Fester pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down, his gaze sweeping over the back of Xilen's hand before he paused for a moment.

"Are you injured on your hand?"

Xilun glanced down; the faint bloodstain on his palm hadn't dried yet.

"It's nothing."

"6

He clenched his fist and changed the subject: "How much do you know about Robert?"

Fester picked up the half-finished glass of milk in front of Xilun, smelled it, and then put it down.

"I heard he's a young master from a family who isn't very favored."

He thought for a moment, then added, "I don't know the specifics, but people like that are usually ambitious and ruthless. What, did he cause you trouble?"

Xilun didn't answer, he just nodded.

Fester didn't press the matter, leaned back in his chair and stretched, as if he had remembered something.

"By the way, recently a group of people have been targeting lone individuals for robbery late at night, and several people in the neighborhood have fallen victim to them."

He raised a finger and tapped the table.

Be careful when walking at night.

Xilun responded and got up to go upstairs.

The door to room 302 was unlocked.

An Man was squatting at the door, with a bucket of steaming water next to him.

Seeing Xilun come up, he quickly picked up the bucket and followed him in, pouring hot water into the washbasin with swift movements.

Xilun rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands. The hot water came up, and the bloodstains on his palms turned white from being soaked.

"How's work?"

Anman was taken aback, not expecting Xilun to ask this.

"Fortunately, I'm working for the foreman."

"You've become my deputy?"

An Man nodded, rubbed his hands together, and spoke with a hint of restraint.

"I must also thank Lord Siron for his guidance."

Xilun dried his hands with a towel and glanced at him.

"You're very busy right now, so you don't need to come anymore."

Anman opened his mouth as if to say something, but Xilun had already closed the door.

The room fell silent.

Xilun took a flat porcelain bottle out of the inside pocket of his trench coat and unscrewed the cap.

Ice Toad Snow Cream.

The cultivation aid medicine issued by the club had a cool, creamy texture and a bitter, grassy smell.

He scooped out a fingertip and rubbed it on his forearm, then sat cross-legged on the bed, relaxed his shoulders, and began breathing exercises, practicing the Iron Wall Breathing Method.

The energy circulates along the meridians, and the coolness of the plaster penetrates the skin, feeling like countless fine needles piercing into the flesh.

He closed his eyes, breathing steadily.

This lasted for a full hour.

A light sweat beaded on his forehead. Xilun opened his eyes, wiped off the remaining ointment, and lay down to rest.

I don't know how much time passed.

Xilun suddenly opened his eyes, his expression changing drastically.

A burning, itchy sensation came from the palm of my right hand, as if something was crawling around under my skin.

A thick, powerful force surged upwards along the metacarpal bone, rough, brutal, and carrying a burning sensation.

Xilun frowned, sat up, and gritted his teeth as he practiced the Iron Wall Breathing Technique.

He channeled his strength into his palm and pressed down layer by layer.

The surging force was suppressed for a moment, then bounced back.

Press down again.

Play it again.

This continued for four or five rounds.

The burning sensation in my palms gradually subsided, and that domineering force was almost completely crushed and erased.

Xilun looked down at his right hand.

A thick yellow line in my palm slowly dimmed, like a burnt-out wick, the last glimmer of light extinguished.

The residual power of the Giant Rock Hand.

Xilun grinned.

"That bastard Robert."

When we were exchanging punches in the corridor, this kid tampered with his fists.

The power of the Giant Rock Hand seeped in, hiding in the crevices of the palm, only to be unleashed when the person fell asleep.

That's really sneaky!

If it were an ordinary student, without the expert-level Iron Wall Breathing Technique to suppress it, this force would be enough to cause pain for half an hour.

Xilun wiggled his fingers.

My strength has been worn away, but my palms are numb and itchy, my joints are swollen, and I can't even make a fist properly.

He hesitated for a moment, then got out of bed, changed his clothes, tucked the pepper pistol into his waistband, and went out the door.

The streets were deserted late at night, with sparse streetlights.

Xilun pulled up the collar of his trench coat, walked briskly along the alley for fifteen minutes, and turned into a narrow street that was still lit up.

A small shop with a sign that reads "Bronze Pestle".

He pushed open the door and went in. The shop owner was a bald old man who was dozing off.

Xilun described the symptoms, and the old man pulled out a jar of dark ointment from behind the counter.

"Black Spotted Lin".

The old man gave instructions.

"Apply externally, wash off after five minutes, twice a day. It is specifically for treating bruises and also has an analgesic effect."

Xilun pulled out two shillings and slammed them on the counter.

The old man counted them and pushed the medicine pot over.

After leaving the pharmacy, Xilun didn't rush back.

He unscrewed the lid of the medicine jar, scooped out a lump of black plaster, and smeared it on his right palm.

It felt cool and refreshing, and the tingling and itching sensation subsided almost completely.

I waited for about five minutes.

He turned into a quiet alley, found a puddle of water in the corner, squatted down and washed off the ointment.

I stirred my fingers in the water a couple of times.

Xilun suddenly looked up, and a cat meowed from above.