Starting as dockworkers, they swept through Chongqing.

Chapter 98 The Expensive Observation Fees and Robert's Hostility

Xilun leaned back on the sofa, his brain starting to race as he pondered.

In other words, according to the absolute upper limit of the power of the techniques, the most powerful and the best way to lay a solid foundation is undoubtedly to directly observe the extraordinary breathing method on the mysterious stone carving; the next best is the barrier-free translations made by later generations; and then there are those created by extraordinary individuals in modern times.

In this bizarre world where death is a frequent occurrence, a mere 10% difference in power can mean a 100% mortality rate in a life-or-death struggle.

He would never risk his life to save that little bit of money and learn the worst self-invented breathing method.

Xilun had already made up his mind. He took a deep breath and asked hesitantly, "Mentor, if I choose to view the most exquisite and mysterious stone carvings—approximately what would the price be?"

Raine held his teacup and glanced at him with his deep gaze, as if he had already foreseen Xiren's next reaction.

"The cheapest option," Ryan emphasized the words "cheapest" as he spoke slowly, "is a secret room provided by the club where you can view the mysterious stone carving that is now just a fragment, and learn the breathing techniques depicted on it using your own intuition."

"The club's price is set at one pound per hour for viewing the stone carvings."

"If you have exceptional comprehension, and you only study for two hours a day without any mentor, it would take you a full month to completely learn and even grasp the basics of this breathing technique—" Ryan silently did the math in his mind and cruelly stated the figure, "then you would need to prepare a full 60 pounds in cash."

Upon hearing the number "60 pounds," Celen's breath caught in his throat.

He felt as if his heart was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand. The composure and confidence he had gained from his successful baptism were shattered by this string of cold numbers.

Xilun's face darkened completely, and his facial muscles twitched slightly uncontrollably.

60 pounds!

This is not just a huge sum of money, it's like a mountain weighing down on the poor!

He worked hard as a dock supervisor, even risking his life to fight bandits at the bottom of the Greywater River, and finally managed to save up more than thirty pounds in savings.

I thought I was already considered a wealthy person in the lower part of the city.

And the result? In this cold and cruel trading system of the extraordinary, even the cheapest mysterious stone carving costs one pound to look at for an hour!

All his wealth wasn't even enough to last him three days in the secret room!

Not to mention, this doesn't even include the money he needs to spend in advance to learn the basics of mysticism.

poverty!

A profound sense of powerlessness and extreme poverty gnawed at the heart of Xilun like a venomous snake.

He finally understood why so many baptized people eventually became lackeys of powerful forces: without the financial support of these powerful forces, independent cultivators couldn't even get close to mastering the basics of breathing techniques!

Xilun was a little scared.

It's not that I'm afraid of death, but I'm afraid of the despair of being strangled by resources.

"Why is it so expensive?!" Xilun gritted his teeth, cursing this cannibalistic world in his heart.

He looked into his mentor Ryan's calm gaze and knew that the latter wouldn't make any concessions on this issue. The club's rules were the rules; without pounds, there was no power.

Xilun suddenly stood up. He needed time to calm his inner turmoil, and even more time to figure out how to make money.

"Let me think about it, mentor." Xiren's voice was a little hoarse, revealing a hint of reluctance.

He drank the precious tea in one gulp, then turned and walked towards the door.

As he grasped the cold brass doorknob, Xiren paused, turned his head slightly, and said in an extremely calm voice, "I'll give you an answer tomorrow."

After saying that, Xilun pushed open the door and strode out. The heavy oak door slowly closed behind him, completely shutting out the intoxicating aroma of tea.

The heavy oak door closed slowly behind us with a deep thud.

Xilun walked out along the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing in the empty space with a strange rhythm.

A short while later, a figure emerged from the shadows at the other end of the corridor.

Robert wore a well-tailored silk shirt with a violet brooch pinned to his chest, a symbol of family honor.

He watched Xilun's departing figure, his brows furrowing deeply involuntarily.

Although he is now a high-ranking baptist, whose life level has long since undergone a transformative leap, he should theoretically not take a commoner like Xilun seriously.

But in that brief moment when they brushed past each other, that not-so-broad figure gave him a subtle sense of threat.

The feeling was like being coldly watched by a wild beast lurking in the thorns on a starless, moonless night.

"What does this mean—"

Robert stopped, pondering the sudden fright he had just experienced. He touched the thick calluses on his palms, calloused from martial arts training, and felt the molten lava-like power of the baptized being flowing beneath his skin.

He shook his head, a self-deprecating sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.

It's probably just an illusion caused by my mind being too tense in order to break through to a higher realm recently.

How could a mere student who hasn't even crossed that insurmountable barrier possibly pose a threat to him?

Putting aside his chaotic thoughts, Robert straightened his collar and pushed open the door to Ryan's office.

Ryan sat behind a large mahogany desk, his fingers gently rubbing a cup of expensive Southern Colonial black tea, the steam rising in the lamplight.

After a series of routine aristocratic pleasantries and narration, Robert straightened his back, his eyes burning with a flame called ambition.

"Mentor, I plan to prepare for the junior knight fighting tournament in six months."

Raine paused slightly in the hand holding the teacup, looked up, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"There are still two full months until the club finalizes its roster of participants. You're quick enough, aren't you? What, it seems you've already figured out the method for the first-level breathing technique?"

Robert nodded slightly, his chin raised in a proud arc, a confidence that came from his bloodline.

"You should know about our family. In this desolate era, we still preserve our ancient traditions."

We possess the Dawn Breathing Method, a first-order breathing technique known for its "powerful energy, welcoming the dawn, tempering the body, and guiding the spirit."

Most importantly, it's a top-tier translation of a breathing technique, and just last night, I was officially approved by the family's elders to practice it.

Raine put down his teacup and nodded slightly.

"Your family treats you quite well."

Raine knew about this breathing technique. Among the many first-level breathing techniques that have been passed down, the Dawn Breathing Technique was definitely a top-tier and extremely powerful one.

It is not merely about physical training; it also involves, unusually, spiritual guidance.

However, this ancient practice is extremely obscure and difficult to translate. Very few translations are available on the market, and most are incomplete, with complete versions being extremely rare.

Robert's family happened to possess one of the very few complete translations.

Robert placed his hands on the edge of the table, his eyes becoming sharp as knives.

"Mentor, you understand my situation. In order to improve my status in the family and for the resources that should rightfully belong to me, I must defeat my brother Ross with an indisputable advantage in the junior knight fighting tournament."

He has seized the title of the eldest son; if I cannot demonstrate absolute power, I will forever be trampled under his feet!

Robert guessed that the club couldn't possibly have a more suitable candidate than him.

The rules for junior knight fighting are extremely strict: participants must be under 25 years old and cannot participate more than three times.

He was at the peak of his life, had just been baptized, and had received the blessing of the Dawn Breathing Technique. Looking across the entire Ironclad Club, there was probably no one more suitable than him.

Looking at the young man caught up in the power struggle within his family, Ryan hesitated for a moment, then tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"Perhaps so."

Robert paused for a moment, then laughed, his laughter carrying a hint of certainty and arrogance.

"Does the club really think they won't choose me in the end? Besides me, who else can represent Iron Cross?"

Raine stopped knocking, gave him a deep look, and hesitated for a moment.

"not necessarily."

Robert's smile froze, and a shadow crossed his eyes.

Raine didn't explain much, he just shook his head and his tone became serious.

"You should focus on practicing your breathing technique. The Dawn Breathing Technique is extremely powerful and puts immense pressure on the mind. If you get distracted and something goes wrong, causing your cultivation level to regress, that would be really bad."

When Robert came out, his brows were tightly furrowed.

Ryan's "maybe not" was like a thorn that couldn't be pulled out, stuck in his heart, giving him a vague but intense unease.

He subconsciously walked down the corridor to the second floor, wanting to vent his frustrations at the training ground.

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard cheers coming from the students' rooms on the second floor.

Many people lowered their voices, as if they were discussing some shocking news.

After his baptism, Robert's hearing and eyesight improved, and even from a distance, the sounds could still be clearly heard.

"I was really baptized! Just now!"

"My God, how long has he been here? Half a year? How is that possible!"

"Born into a commoner family with no resources, he actually managed to cross that threshold using only basic breathing techniques—"

Robert froze, his face blank, as if struck by lightning.

Surprise, doubt, and even a hint of unbelievable panic were intertwined in his eyes.

He suddenly turned his head and, following everyone's gaze, looked at the secluded figure in the corner of the training room.

Weston.

He stared intently at the young man in the gray training uniform, his heart filled with turmoil.

How is that possible?!

This person started several months late, had a weak foundation, no expensive magic potions, and no one-on-one tutoring from a famous teacher, yet he was baptized in such a short time!

He stared at Xilun for a long time, his chest heaving violently, his fingernails almost digging into the flesh of his palms.

The next moment, Xilun, who was standing in front of the wooden stake, also seemed to notice this extremely hostile gaze.

Xilun slowly raised his head.

Those were eyes that were extremely calm, so indifferent that they didn't show a single ripple.

Their gazes met heavily in the air, as if invisible sparks were flying.

There was no provocation, no boasting.

Xilun merely glanced at him indifferently, then lowered his head and continued to ponder his own affairs while facing the iron wire stake in front of him.

He was thinking about claw techniques.

Xilun slowly closed his fingers in front of him, his knuckles making a slight popping sound.

He was carefully contemplating and reflecting on the deeper applications of that corrupting power. The talent bestowed by the Dark Gold Subel Bear was far more profound than he had imagined.

When Xilun finished processing the violent energy within his body and looked up again, Robert's figure at the window had already disappeared.

Xilun gazed thoughtfully at the empty windowsill.

It seemed that this person's hostility towards him had increased considerably compared to their brief encounter in the corridor last time.

However, this was meaningless to Xilun.

The strong always attract resentment; if the other party dares to reach out, just cut them off.

After thinking for a moment, Xilun walked to the wooden table next to him, picked up his cup and took a sip of water.

He caught a glimpse of a figure not far away out of the corner of his eye.

Kanavi.

This companion, who had once struggled alongside him in the lower rungs of society and drunk cheap beer with him in taverns, was now standing a few meters away, seemingly staring at him for a long time.

Xilun put down his water glass, turned around, and casually asked, "What are you looking at?"

Kanavi snapped out of his daze, his eyes darting away.

"Nothing...nothing at all."

Kanavi's expression was very complex, showing awe, disappointment, and a deep sense of helplessness.

He knew very well that the man before him, Siron, had now been successfully baptized.

In this dog-eat-dog world of Fog City, the baptized are an absolute privileged class.

Siron has become a figure as important as his father, Carlo, and his future is even more limitless.

It seems that the two are no longer suited to interact as casually as before.

Xilun was no longer the overseer working at the docks, but a high-ranking nobleman.

Canavie vaguely sensed that a thick, invisible barrier had formed between them.

This class barrier cruelly hinders the originally equal communication between them.

He lowered his head, like a child who had done something wrong, avoided Xilen's gaze, and hurriedly left the training room.

Xiren frowned as he watched Kanavi flee in disarray.

He didn't say anything more, nor did he try to persuade him to stay.

In this cruel world, everyone has their own path to walk. If Kanavi himself cannot overcome his own inner hurdle, no amount of charity from others will help.

Xilun turned around again and glanced at the hard wooden stake in front of him.

He took a deep breath, gathering his strength in his palm, and suddenly thrust out his right hand, his five fingers digging deep into the wooden stake like steel hooks.

Amidst the flying sawdust, a pale red data stream flashed rapidly deep within his retina.

[Skill: Dorok Dark Claw Technique (Proficient)]

[Progress: 493/500]

"I'm almost an expert."

Xilun withdrew his hand, looking at the wood chips remaining on his fingertips, and secretly made a plan in his mind.

This is a claw technique that suits him perfectly, especially when combined with the talent of Corruption Claw, its power is multiplied.

Even though he is now a first-tier extraordinary being and qualified to cultivate more advanced first-tier extraordinary combat techniques, he plans to first thoroughly master this combat technique with its extremely solid foundation.

The deeper the foundation, the more stable the tower.