Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 95 Breathing Technique Master, Advancement and Baptism, Physical Transformation

As time went by, the changes in his body became more and more astonishing. His originally somewhat thin muscles began to develop a second time, becoming as hard as iron and full of streamlined beauty.

The skin surface is no longer a normal skin tone, but has a subtle, dull sheen similar to bronze.

Even a casual pinch on the corner of the table can easily leave a fingerprint on the hard oak.

Time passed slowly, until the tenth day.

Night fell again, and the charcoal fire crackled faintly in the furnace.

Xiren ate the last black trout, and the enormous energy accumulated in his body, as if it would burst his blood vessels.

He took a deep breath, sat cross-legged like an old monk in meditation, and began his final sprint.

As he practiced his breathing technique, the air in the room seemed to resonate subtly with the rise and fall of his chest.

"boom!"

A deep, rumbling sound seemed to echo in Xilun's mind.

He suddenly opened his eyes and exhaled a long, white arrow of air. This arrow of air condensed in mid-air and did not dissipate, shooting a full three feet away before slowly dissipating into the air.

On his retina, the pale red data stream that had accompanied him through countless days and nights flickered violently once more, finally settling into a static image.

[Successfully completed one breath control exercise, Iron Wall Breathing Technique experience points +1]

Current progress: 1000/1000

[Skill Advancement - Master Level!]

[Master-level breathing techniques, perfected to perfection, with no further refinement possible.]

【Characteristics: Sustained stamina, impenetrable to swords and blades.】

Xiren slowly regulated his breathing. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them casually.

He didn't unleash a great deal of force, but he could feel that his body had reached a perfect state that was incomprehensible to ordinary people.

He tried to circulate his energy. The blood and qi that originally required deliberate guidance were now like a gentle stream. With a thought, all his meridians were instantly connected, filling his entire body.

The strength and endurance of the energy are more than double that of the expert level.

But at the same time, an unprecedented sense of oppression also descended upon us.

Xilun vaguely sensed that a profound bottleneck had appeared above his head, or rather, deep within his body.

It was an invisible shackle.

It stood there coldly and rigidly, as if it were an iron law set by the Creator for all mortals.

It completely blocked Xilun's path forward, and no matter how much he practiced his breathing techniques or how many black trout he ate, he could not increase his strength by even a fraction.

Water overflows when it's full; this is the limit for mortals.

One must struggle to break free of these shackles and shatter the mortal body completely before stepping into a new world of extraordinary existence!

Xilun stood by the window, feeling the violent power within him that was being suppressed, and took a deep breath of the chilly night wind.

His face did not show any frustration due to the bottleneck; instead, an irrepressible joy welled up on it.

He beamed with joy.

He walked this path with unwavering determination, yet with immense difficulty.

From a despised dockworker to a fight club student, and now to a yakuza martial artist who has reached the pinnacle of human potential.

"Finally—finally, we've come this far."

Xilun murmured softly, his eyes flashing with a wolf-like sharpness.

With everything in place, he had no reason to stop.

The time for baptism has come.

After a brief moment of joy, Xiren quickly regained his composure. His young face once again regained its signature coldness and focus.

He turned and walked to the bedside, pulling open the bottom drawer.

There lay quietly a finely crafted black tin box.

Unlock the door, and you'll find it lined with dark red velvet.

On the velvet cloth, on the left, lay a grayish-white incense stick—an expensive spiritual incense used to stabilize the mind and prevent mental breakdown during excruciating pain; on the right, a dark blue liquid—Frostwolf Potion—was sealed in a sturdy crystal tube.

Sensing that he was about to break through to the Master level, Xilun did not hesitate to use his savings to prepare for it, just waiting for the moment of baptism.

Xilun placed the box on the table and then began pacing back and forth in the room to relax.

He slowly circulated the full power within his body, allowing his spirit to gradually enter a state of tranquility.

He closed his eyes and carefully sensed once again the shackles that tightly bound his qi and blood within his body.

Slowly, he stopped, gently clenched his fist, and pondered over and over in his mind what to do during his baptism.

Ordinary martial artists have only a 30% success rate in being baptized; those who fail may suffer from hemiplegia at best, and death from ruptured blood vessels at worst.

But he was different; his foundation was extremely solid.

After a long while, Xilun finally nodded slightly, his eyes revealing absolute certainty.

He had a feeling that he would succeed on his first try.

"laugh--"

The match struck the phosphorescent paper, and a faint light appeared in the dim room.

Xilun lit the incense stick.

A wisp of smoke, carrying a peculiar, bitter herbal scent, rose and entered the nasal cavity.

Instantly, Xilun felt a clearing in his mind, and all his distracting thoughts, fears, and excitement were forcibly suppressed by the cool fragrance.

The mind is clear and empty.

Without hesitation, he uncorked the crystal tube and poured the chilling, dark blue Frostwolf potion down his throat.

The medicine didn't taste fishy or bitter as I had imagined.

Instead, it felt like a mass of ice water at absolute zero, sliding down the esophagus.

But the moment it entered the stomach, the icy water suddenly exploded, transforming into a primal force of extreme rage.

This force was anything but gentle; it was like a pack of hungry wolves, tearing at Xilun's internal organs, slowly and brutally merging into his body.

Excruciating pain instantly overwhelmed Xilun. He clenched his teeth tightly, and the veins on his forehead bulged like earthworms.

In this extreme sense of tearing apart, Xilun felt that some kind of bloodline, some kind of primal human potential, hidden within him, was being forcibly stimulated by this violent drug power.

In a daze, he recalled what his mentor, Ryan, had said in class.

"The fall of mythical creatures created an extraordinary system. Humans, born weak and vulnerable, must utilize their extraordinary characteristics..."

By using magical potions extracted from alien species, combined with breathing techniques and martial arts, the body's potential can be forcibly unlocked.

"This step is called casting."

"Or, to put it more arrogantly, it's called—the forging of a sacred body!"

Using sacred yet brutal power, they forge and strip away the holy bodies of mortals, thereby gaining control of the terrifying powers that belong only to mythical creatures.

The medication is taking effect.

Xilun felt an extreme chill run through his body, as if his blood was about to freeze.

But immediately afterward, the perfect energy and blood within his body began to launch a fierce counterattack.

Scalding hot blood and qi surged from the soles of the feet, rising all the way up, passing through the knees and spine, and flowing through the shoulders and back, producing a dense cracking sound like popping beans.

The blood and qi, along with the cold medicinal power, formed a massive reflux within the body, much like a roaring steam engine.

This merged power no longer violently destroyed, but began to greedily nourish every inch of his body.

The force, like a heavy hammer, began to temper his skin.

Xiren's breathing became heavy and labored, like a bellows. Visibly, his skin began to undergo strange changes.

His originally bronze skin gradually became covered with a layer of light gray marks resembling dead skin, and it was extremely taut.

"Sizzle—"

An extremely faint tearing sound rang out.

The layer of pale gray old skin, like a snake shedding its skin, began to crack inch by inch from his arms and chest.

Beneath this cracked, dead skin, new flesh is rapidly taking shape.

It was a flawless, white new skin, like the finest porcelain, completely replacing the rough old skin.

But this whiteness does not mean fragility. Xilun could clearly feel that the new skin was extremely tough and very hard. Even if a sword or blade were to cut into it, it would probably only leave a white mark.

Xilun quietly savored this transformative change.

He gradually tightened the scattered energy within his body, like a steel wire that gets tighter and tighter with each pull.

Finally, at the moment when the force was tightened to its limit.

"Click."

He felt the shackles that had been pressing down on him for so long slowly and without any suspense break free.

There were no earth-shattering phenomena; everything unfolded naturally, as if it were meant to be.

Once the shackles are broken, the world suddenly becomes vast.

My previously dormant body was once again engulfed in intense heat.

The energy not only flows through the muscles, but also begins to deeply penetrate the newly formed skin.

Then, an even more astonishing change occurred.

His talent—black scale texture—was acquired from hunting alien species.

The black membrane that was originally hidden under the skin is now undergoing a cruel process of tempering, tearing, and regeneration under the influence of this enormous baptismal force.

Xilun saw that the black scales on his forearm had become deeper and more three-dimensional, as if they had grown directly into his flesh and bones, making them more resilient and increasing his defensive capabilities dramatically.

But it's not over yet.

Xilun looked down and saw that his hands were also beginning to change.

Between the five fingers, the instinct of the "Claw of Corruption" was fully activated.

The bony claws, which were originally somewhat immature due to insufficient strength, were now peeling away like necrotic nails.

Shedding.

Accompanied by excruciating pain, new, sharper, and thicker claws grew deep within the knuckles.

These new claws were no longer pale white, but rather a faint dark color that exuded an aura of death.

Xilun tried to muster his strength.

"Clang!"

A dark golden light burst forth from his fingertips, flickering intermittently, as his energy was continuously replenished from his dantian, seemingly inexhaustible.

The pain of transformation continued. Xilun was soaked in cold sweat and blood, but he didn't utter a sound. He just held on to the last bit of clarity in his mind.

Finally, the long night passed, and the sky outside the window began to lighten with the first light of dawn.

All the pain receded like the tide.

The transformation is only now complete.

Xilun slowly stood up and stretched his body. His bones made a series of cracking sounds.

He could clearly feel that his skin was as solid as an iron wall, and with the added defense from the tempering of the black scales, his current ability to withstand blows had surpassed that of most ordinary baptists.

He raised his right hand and clenched his five fingers.

At the fingertips, the faint dark claws gleamed like lurking venomous snakes, exuding a deadly aura.

Success achieved.

"call----"

Xilun exhaled a long breath of foul air, the smell of blood lingering in his eyes. A hint of relaxation finally appeared on his face, which had been tense and hard all night.

He closed his eyes, feeling the strength throughout his body, which was several times stronger than before, and the seemingly tireless and powerful body that had been reforged by the magic potion.

"This... is this the power of a first-order baptized being?!"

Xilun sighed softly.

He walked to the window and looked at the foggy city that had just awakened, as if he had a sense of déjà vu, as if his senses were sharp and clear.

Through the thick wooden wall, he could clearly hear the muffled snoring of the sleeping person in the next room; turning his head, he could even see the fine hairs on a spider's leg in the corner of the wall and the intricate patterns on the old leaves outside the window, with the help of the extremely faint moonlight.

The whistling of the night wind blowing through the cracks, even the soft rustling of insects crawling in the cracks of the wall, all created a vivid picture in his mind.

The foggy city was still shrouded in a thick, leaden-gray smog in the early morning.

Cold dew dripped down the dilapidated eaves of the hotel, splashing onto the moss-covered stone path and creating tiny droplets.

With a creak, the heavy wooden door was pushed open, and Xilun finally stepped out of the room where he had been in seclusion for ten days.

The cold wind rushed towards him, scraping his face like a knife, but Xilun felt no cold at all.

He felt refreshed and invigorated, as if someone who had been covered by a heavy drum for a long time had suddenly had the cover lifted, and the whole world was presented to him with unprecedented clarity.

He took a deep breath of the crisp early winter air, his lungs expanding powerfully in his chest cavity. Even the pungent smell of coal smoke, the sour smell of sewers, and even the aroma of freshly baked charred bread three blocks away were all precisely detected by his transformed sense of smell.

He could even hear the faint cracking sound of a stray cat stepping on fallen leaves on the street corner.

This sensory feedback of absolute control over the surrounding environment made Xilun's lips curl into a slight smile.

He walked briskly down the stairs, his leg muscles, reforged by a magic potion, concealing explosive jumping power beneath his roughly tailored trousers.

With each step, he felt as if he were not standing on a hard wooden board, but on a highly resilient air cushion, and he couldn't help but hum an unknown, cheerful tune.

Arriving at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, the charcoal fire in the stove was burning brightly, dispelling some of the chill.

The owner, Morrie, was wearing a greasy apron and wiping up spilled ale behind the bar with a stained rag. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, and a slick smile immediately spread across his weathered and fleshy face.

"Hey, you've been so listless and cooped up in your room these past few days. I thought you were sick and dying in bed. You finally decided to come out?" Mori teased with a laugh, without stopping wiping the table.

Xilun walked over with a grin, casually leaned against the bar, and tapped the greasy wooden board with two fingers: "A bowl of oatmeal, extra sugar, a glass of hot milk, and two boiled eggs, please."

After saying that, he skillfully reached into the inside pocket of his trench coat, his fingertips rummaging among the thin stack of banknotes and coins, precisely pinching out four gleaming yellow pennies, which he then slid across the bar counter.

Morrie glanced at the coins, turned and yelled a gruff urging at the kitchen staff, then draped a rag over his shoulder and reached for the few pennies.