I do not eat beef. Please, please, please.

The identity card was entirely in English, and the only thing Du Ruo could make out was the name.

But he knew that from this moment on, Du Ruo would be fishing for a week on a yacht in Malaysian waters, and that this man named Sun Qian would have nothing whatsoever to do with him, no matter what he did in the Philippines.

“Not bad at all, taking such a roundabout route for this. They look pretty practiced at it, and the plan is thorough enough.”

Du Ruo put the card away, thinking back over what had happened that day. These people seemed to be very experienced at this sort of work, though who exactly was behind it remained unclear.

Before long, a fishing boat came over, and Du Ruo did not hesitate before leaping aboard.

As soon as he was on deck, the boat immediately turned around.

“Sun Qian, come over and have a bite.”

There were only two men on the fishing boat. One was steering, while the other crouched in the middle of the deck beside a small stove, cooking something. When he saw Du Ruo come aboard, he hurriedly called him over.

“Cook more. I eat a lot.”

Du Ruo was not being polite. By now the boat had already picked up speed, but his footing was as steady as if iron nails had been driven into the soles of his feet; he walked the deck as freely as if he were on level ground.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of fish. My name’s Paka, and I’ll be your guide and driver for the next few days.”

Paka was the one cooking on the boat. He looked up at Du Ruo and flashed a row of white teeth, his hands never stopping as he added one ingredient after another to the pot. His Mandarin was not very good, and his accent was heavy.

Du Ruo did not stand on ceremony either. He moved over, sat down on the deck, and took the bowl and chopsticks Paka handed him, waiting with him for the fish in the pot to cook through.

He had barely eaten anything all day. Truth be told, Du Ruo was rather hungry. The food on the plane had been mediocre and scanty, nowhere near enough. In the afternoon he had either been changing vehicles or riding on boats, and there had simply been no chance to eat.

“It’s ready.”

Paka fixed his eyes on the pot. Seeing that the timing was about right, he turned the heat down as low as it would go and said a word to Du Ruo before lifting out a piece of fish and eating it first.

Paka did not seem afraid of the heat at all; in just a few bites he finished one piece, then went on to another. Only then did Du Ruo begin eating.

The fish itself had nothing fancy about it, but it made up for that with fresh ingredients and generous portions. One pot was enough to fill them both. When it was empty, Paka opened the boat’s hold, used a hook to fish out another catch, cleaned it in a few quick strokes, tossed it straight into the pot, and the two of them went on eating.

They both ate quickly, and their appetites were equally astonishing. By the end, Paka was even so thorough as to drink up every last drop of the fish broth.

“Brother Sun, you really can eat. You’re the first person I’ve seen who eats more than I do.”

After they had finished and tidied up, Paka sat with Du Ruo on the fishing boat and spoke first.

“Mm. How much longer?”

Du Ruo nodded, his gaze on the dark sea beyond the boat. Night had fully fallen. Aside from the engine’s rumble, the only sounds were the waves and the wind. Nothing could be made out outside the boat; only a lamp above the captain’s head lit a small area of the deck, leaving the visible space on board very limited.

Anyone timid would have been frightened in such a situation.

“At least three more hours.”

Paka sat beside Du Ruo on the deck, took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and offered one to Du Ruo.

When Du Ruo refused, he did not mind and lit one for himself.

“A week ago I took on a team of four. They blew up a local police station and then left. Since then the city’s been under pretty strict scrutiny. If you also plan to blow up a police station this time, tell me in advance so I can prepare a bit. Of course, I’m not asking you to.”

Paka smoked as he spoke, half-reclining with his face turned toward the sky, savoring the happiness of being full.

“These foreigners are like this in your country, and you don’t hate them? You still help them as a guide.”

Since there was nothing else to do, Du Ruo chatted with him idly.

“Hate them? What’s there to hate? Last time I guided them, I made enough to get a car. It was secondhand, sure, but it gave me a job and a way to make a living.”

Paka took another drag and went on.

“Brother Sun, you’re from China, so you can’t understand how we feel. I grew up in the slums. The best food in the slums is something called pagpag. People collect leftovers or bones from restaurants, rinse them in clean water, coat them in batter, fry them in oil, and then sell them again.

“Pagpag means dusting off the dirt. It’s one of our most important food sources, and even to buy that much, we have to spend most of our income.

“We know better than anyone what caused all this. We hate them more than anyone does. So don’t talk about being a guide. If they pay me, I’d even dare to throw that bomb myself.”

Paka smiled at Du Ruo.

“Then you should cherish that car you just got, do your job properly, and not get any other ideas.”

Du Ruo felt no sympathy for his words. On the contrary, he became a little more wary of Paka. He was not his compatriot; trying to win pity in front of him would only make him want to laugh.

As for caution, it was because the poor could risk everything for the slightest chance, but once a poor man put on shoes, everything changed. He not only no longer dared to gamble his life, but might even make foolish choices for the sake of those shoes. That could not be ignored.

“Heh, of course. Brother Sun, sit a while—I’m going to check on the captain.”

Paka smiled, took a hard drag on his cigarette, and kept smoking until it was nearly burning his fingers. Only then did he flick it into the sea and walk toward the captain.

Du Ruo paid him no more mind. He stood up, looked at the stars overhead, and his fingers kept gripping and releasing a pole on the fishing boat.

When Du Ruo was at sea, this was how he trained. At home, he made sure to practice every day; now that he was out here, he would not slack off for a single day. The deck was a perfect place to train his balance and footwork, so whenever possible he stood instead of sitting.

His hands did not rest either. He kept grasping any protrusions, table edges, and the like, training finger strength and the Iron Body technique.

So although he had been away for two days, Du Ruo was still able to gain his daily attribute points, and his skill experience did not lag behind either.

When the boat reached shore, Paka arranged for Du Ruo to stay in a small inn. Over the next two days, with Paka as his guide, Du Ruo wandered all over the city and learned many things.

In the Philippines, the kidnapping of Chinese people had already formed a black industry chain. It was being done by smugglers of contraband, by wealthy family clans, and even by local police.

The Garcia family was considered the most powerful clan in the area. Its shadow could be found in many black and gray industries. Even the local mayor had been brought to power by this family. Needless to say, in that city, the Garcias were the undisputed local strongmen.

“Paka, I came here without hiding the fact that I’m Chinese, and I’ve been wandering around all the properties under the Garcia family’s name. Why do you think no one has stopped me to ask who I am, or tried to kidnap me?”

One evening, after Du Ruo and Paka had finished dinner at a restaurant and were heading back to the inn, Du Ruo suddenly asked him as they were about to enter an alley.

“Uh, probably because of the change in administration. Want a cigarette?”

Paka had not expected such a question. He took a cigarette from his pocket, lit one for himself, and offered another to Du Ruo.

“I don’t smoke.”

He raised his left hand in a casual wave. The dragon tail flashed into Du Ruo’s grasp, and with a concealed flick of the hand, the dragon tail, wrapped in a reddish steel wire, stabbed into Paka’s left eye.