Stirling couldn't wear his official robes to meet the Gray Spector, as well as he had to disguise his face.

  So, he thought of the human skin mask.

  As Stirling picked a mask, a soft light surrounded his hand for a few seconds. It quickly changed into a human facemask, as thin as a cicada wing.

  Stirling touched the mask in his hand, feeling a chill. This thing felt like his own skin; could it really be made of human skin?

  But he couldn't waste the lifespan he'd spent. Stirling suppressed his discomfort and pressed the mask against his face. He felt a cool sensation right away, then a slight itch where the mask touched his face.

  Stirling rubbed his finger on the itchy spot, and the strange feeling disappeared right away. He jumped around a bit, and only after confirming there were no problems did, he nod in satisfaction.

  Stirling muttered to himself. He took off his Flying Cloud Robe and pulled out a set of second-hand clothes he had bought for a dozen copper coins.

  Stirling changed into his rather sweaty old clothes. Then, he folded the Flying Cloud Robe and put it back in his bag. He wrapped his blade in cloth and tucked it into the bag. Then, he slung the bag over his shoulder and sauntered out of the alley.

  Passersby hurried by unnoticed, which reassured Stirling somewhat.

  Still uneasy, Stirling went into several shops, chatting with the shopkeepers. Noticing that no one saw his human skin mask after many tries, he walked toward the Six-Horses District.

  In the Six-Horses District. Several young men in gray tight-fitting clothes were eating noodles at a noodle stall.

  "Old man, hurry! Put in more noodles!"

  A young man banged on the table, yelling at the stall owner.

  The stall owner, a man in his fifties or sixties, hunched over. He looked at the young men with black thread tattoos of half-skulls on their clothes and shook his head.

  These men recently joined the Gray Spector. Since joining, they wandered the streets all day. They often ate and drank for free at his noodle stall.

  The Gray Spector members were lawless, and the old man didn't want to upset them. So, he just scooped up noodles in silence.

  "I thought joining the gang meant collecting offerings! I didn't expect the work to be so boring! Just waving these random iron objects around all the time!" A boy of about seventeen or eighteen said so with dissatisfaction.

  "Hehe, let me tell you, this is all a test!" Another boy chuckled.

  "What do you mean? Tell me right now!"

  "My uncle told me that the gang is looking for something very important! These iron objects are one detector. If we find it, we can get the full skull embroidery on our uniforms immediately!" The young man lowered his voice, but could not hide his excitement.

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  "No wonder; that thing must be precious, right?"

  The person next to him also looked excited.

  "I heard it is something from a high-ranking sect." The young man murmured.

  As the group was discussing this, a sudden voice joined in.

  "What are you talking about? May I take this seat here?"

  Hearing the voice, the thugs turned and saw a strange man sitting next to them. He had appeared without a second thought.

  "Damn it! Who are you? Do you know who we are?" A short guy, seeing the newcomer sit down so calmly, stood up enraged and cursed.

  Who were they? They were from The Gray Spector! In this outer city, besides the Night Watch, The Gray Spector was the most powerful! In just a few days at The Gray Spector, he noticed the residents walking with their heads down in front of him. They seemed scared of being seen, which showed how majestic the gang was.

  But the man, looking at the enraged little guy, simply smiled calmly and said: "So young and already out on the streets, almost crap."

  "Damn it! Get him!"

  Several thugs jumped up from their chairs. They pulled out daggers from their waists and lunged at the man.

  The man was none other than Stirling from the Three Rivers District.

  Stirling had heard plenty about the Gray Spector in the dojo. Now that he saw them in person, their actions seemed even more overbearing and unreasonable than the stories had said.

  Stirling looked at the Gray Spector members before him, a fierce smile playing on his lips. His right arm shot out, grabbing one by the arm. He pulled and twisted hard, sending two others crashing to the ground, screaming in pain.

  Stirling was no longer the na?ve PhD who had just arrived. He was now a samurai, having broken through the skin barrier to enter the Bone Forging Realm. These ordinary people wielding knives did not differ from chicks in his eyes.

  If he didn't need them later, Stirling wouldn't mind taking them out completely. It would rid the people of a scourge.

  Stirling released his grip on the boy's arm, and the latter screamed and staggered back. His arm was swollen, with five deep finger marks showing the substantial force Stirling used.

  The nearby stall owner cried out in fear. He hid behind the soup pot, unsure whether to run or stay. All he could do was pray that the men would finish their fight and leave soon.

  "You! You wait!"

  The two young men who had fallen got up, pointing at Stirling and shouting.

  They saw Stirling was not to be trifled with. They needed to save face. After all, they were in the Gray Spector's clothes and couldn't afford to look bad.

  Only the young man with the swollen arm was still groaning. Stirling had no plans of letting them off easily. He strode over and looked at the three scared thugs in front of him. Stirling grinned, showing a chilling smile, and said:

  "You must keep your word, mustn't you? Come on, take me to see your boss."

  ...

  Ten minutes later, Stirling arrived at a small house with the three thugs. There, he met their so-called boss—a middle-aged man with a scar by his eye.

  The scarred man was clearly much more astute than the three young lads. Seeing the fingerprints on the young man's arm made his pupils contract. He glanced at Stirling and then asked with civility, "Man, what's your deal?"

  Stirling thought this man was a low-ranking leader. He wasn't powerful, but he was qualified to be a microphone. So, he said, "No matter who I am, do you know you have got big trouble now?"

  "Man, what do you mean?" The scarred man felt astonished, with a fierce glare at the three young men standing beside him. The three immediately understood and ran away, downcast.

  "Nothing much. A man from the Night Watch asked me to inform you that someone is watching the batch of goods you just handled, which had malice."

  Scarface's eyes widened in shock. He snatched a half-step back on guard and said: "Impossible! We at The Gray Spector know what may not do. Don't talk nonsense."

  Scarface's eyes flashed with a fierce light.

  "I'm here to give you a head-up. If the stuff is missing, our agreement with your boss is void." Stirling snorted icily, ignoring Scarface's reaction, and turned to leave the house.

  Once Stirling left, the scarred man paced the house, his expression filled with doubt. After some time, he seemed to decide. He went to the gate, opened it, and peeked out. Looking around and seeing no one, he left the house. He locked the gate and hurried away.