In the lounge on Floor 3.5, Huo Ranyin’s ears twitched slightly.
He glanced around his surroundings; inside the lounge, there were only himself, Boss Radish, and Short Boss.
The other four bosses were not here.
And the difference between them and those other four bosses was whether they had stayed in Boss Lin’s room together with Mr. Liu when the second death occurred.
Mr. Liu… was intentionally separating them. From the shouting below just now, vague words like “who” and “person” could be faintly heard—was this also arranged by Mr. Liu? Huo Ranyin pondered, standing up and taking two steps toward the staircase.
The bodyguard immediately stepped forward: “What are your orders, Boss?”
Huo Ranyin: “Just taking a random walk.”
Bodyguard: “Please stay with everyone to ensure safety.”
Short Boss and Boss Radish chimed in to persuade him together: “That’s right, safety comes first above all else. Don’t wander off, just endure it for a bit.”
With him included, there were only three people… the headcount was too small. Wanting to steal out and take a look under the cover of a crowd was impossible; it would only add suspicion onto himself in vain.
Huo Ranyin fell silent for a moment, then sat back down in his original place.
Facing six potential answers concealing the truth, Mr. Liu had devised a solution.
The “Ghost”—the key was the “Ghost”.
This person whom no one had seen for the time being, yet who might truly be hiding on the ship.
Among the six answers, the possibility of the Ghost collaborating with someone on the ship accounted for two, representing a one-in-three chance of being the truth. Since the Ghost couldn’t be found, why not manufacture a Ghost?
As long as the “Ghost” was discovered, the accomplice on the ship collaborating with the Ghost would bound to be nervous, bound to want to protect and cover for the Ghost. Otherwise, once the Ghost was captured, the accomplice hiding on the ship couldn’t possibly escape unscathed either.
Mr. Liu pondered quietly.
In that case, let’s divide the people on the ship into several parts.
Coincidentally, after meeting him, all the bosses on the ship had been taken to the lounge by A’Bang, separated from the crew members and bodyguards. Next, he only needed to gather the crew members and bodyguards who were originally staying in the first-floor main hall into a closed space—they couldn’t be allowed to stay in the main hall. When the ship was designed, the main hall connected vertically across three floors, surrounded by semi-circular staircases sweeping upward on the left and right. Normally, it was indeed elegant, grand, and magnificent. But at a moment like this, the open design allowed the situation on each floor to be seen at a glance by those remaining, which was unfavorable for executing his plan—and then draw out the bodyguards separately.
Test the bodyguards first.
Dispatch A’Tang to play the “Ghost,” let the bodyguards hunt the “Ghost,” and have A’Bang monitor from the side to see if anyone couldn’t hold back and tried to contact or protect the Ghost.
…
The results were good.
Judging from the feedback from A’Bang and A’Tang, no one among the bodyguard group made any suspicious moves, all dutifully hunting the Ghost.
Next was the crew.
Bring the crew to the first floor, scatter them, and let them search on the first floor to create an opportunity for the accomplice to contact and cover for the “Ghost.” Would the accomplice be among the crew members? From A’Bang’s feedback, no suspicious target anxiously trying to contact the “Ghost” was spotted for the time being; instead, Executive Chef Ben was extremely proactive, charging at the very front and almost catching A’Tang’s shadow.
A’Tang wasn’t careful enough.
He could make some commotion to let the pursuers understand that a “Ghost” indeed existed, but he must never actually be seen by anyone. Being seen would expose his height, build, and various features, letting the accomplice realize that this “Ghost” was not that “Ghost.”
…
A’Tang failed to come upstairs within the designated time.
A’Tang had vanished.
There was someone down there who, starting from just moments ago, was playing hide-and-seek with the people on the ship.
Playing hide-and-seek wasn’t strange; what was strange was the identities of both sides in the game—Mr. Liu’s head bodyguard leading Mr. Liu’s crew members and bodyguards to play hide-and-seek.
What was their purpose in doing this, and what result did they want to achieve?
For Ji Xun, who was currently hiding inside the ventilation duct, these two questions were secondary matters. What was most critical right now was the head bodyguard who was curled up in the ventilation duct up ahead, just like him.
The head bodyguard was acting alone, carrying a gun loaded with bullets, hiding in a blind spot with his back facing Ji Xun, his full attention focused on the commotion outside the ventilation duct.
What did this count as?
Surviving a great disaster brings good fortune afterward?
Speaking of which, it was a bit embarrassing—Ji Xun felt that the “disaster” he had just experienced was hardly comparable to the “good fortune” he was about to receive…
For a chef, wasn’t that guy’s footwork a bit too good?
The shouting that drifted into his ears from outside the ventilation duct made A’Tang slightly annoyed. The more annoyed he felt, the more careful he became; he pulled out fine dust prepared beforehand and sprinkled it evenly over the spot at the entrance of the ventilation duct where he had brushed against.
Although he had already left misleading traces down below, there was no guaranteeing that the chef wouldn’t come up to check…
Peering through the vents of the duct, A’Tang stared at the situation down below. Sure enough, after a moment, the Executive Chef entered this room; he first noticed the trace A’Tang had left behind—a small scrap of cloth hooked on the window sill.
The Executive Chef was merely the first to enter, followed by a large crowd of people behind him.
After entering, the vast majority headed straight for the scrap of cloth and left in a rush, with only the Executive Chef returning to the room after running out to look, his gaze locking directly onto the ventilation duct.
He was getting a chair, preparing to climb!
His name was… Ben! This guy pursued so closely; previously he only remembered him for good culinary skills, never expecting him to be so loyal to Mr. Liu and work so hard to capture someone.
However, no matter what, he could not truly be seen, nor could he let Mr. Liu’s plan be ruined.
Curled inside the ventilation duct, A’Tang held his breath and concentrated.
He watched as Ben removed the vent cover, stuck his head in, looked around his surroundings, and after seeing that the dust was completely intact, shook his head and went back down.
“What’s the situation?” A voice came from below; the speaker was an unfamiliar face, dangling a cigarette, his voice somewhat slurred—was he named Meng something?
“The dust is intact, not up there,” Ben answered.
“Let’s go outside and check again.”
“Mm.”
They left.
A’Tang remained lying in place, waiting until he calculated that the two should have already departed and could no longer hear sounds inside this room—especially inside the ventilation duct of this room—before crawling backward inch by inch.
His ankle was grabbed by someone.
Huh?
Thinking it was an illusion from crawling, he took another step backward on his knees.
He was dragged backward directly by a powerful force, his head slamming heavily against a concrete pillar, making his vision spin.
Is there…
A person, or a ghost?!
A’Tang couldn’t control his brain, nor did he know if he could control his voice, but he controlled his hand—he clamped tightly onto his pistol, drew it out, and pulled the trigger—
The trigger wouldn’t budge!
A pen.
Ji Xun had jammed a pen underneath the trigger, blocking the space needed for the trigger to pull back. He went to snatch the gun, but the gun owner’s hand gripping the weapon was as tight as if welded in iron.
Ji Xun abruptly raised his fist, striking heavily toward the other man’s temple!
The fist didn’t hit its target; halfway through, it was blocked by a thick, muscular arm. A’Tang barely managed to cross his arm to block the incoming fist, but after blocking once, he failed to block the second strike. Almost at the same time, he felt a dull pain in his chin, and his brain—already riding a roller coaster—was shaken into tofu dregs again by a level-ten earthquake.
The strike proved effective. In the cramped space, Ji Xun kept his attacks as concise and powerful as possible, immediately pinning the opponent’s shoulder and twisting his arm backward, then raising a knee to strike the nerve on the opponent’s gun-holding arm.
Yet two consecutive strikes failed to make the opponent release the gun. Instead, experiencing severe chest and abdominal pain, A’Tang managed to struggle out of the agony of his concussion during this brief gap. Like a mad bull, he used the angles of his body to slam Ji Xun upward against the concrete wall!
In the nick of time, Ji Xun twisted his body sideways, causing both of them to slam heavily against the wall together and fall down heavily once more. In the tiny space, the two traded blows with limbs almost intertwined, throughout which A’Tang steadfastly refused to release his grip on the gun. But without the help of his other hand, the pen jammed the trigger just as stubbornly as his grip.
In a short span of time, Ji Xun seized an opportunity, flipping around to pin A’Tang face-down onto the floor. His knee pressed against the other man’s spine, while one hand still firmly pinned the arm holding the gun.
A’Tang raised his head, finally breaking free from the concussion at this moment. Controlling his lips and tongue, he opened his mouth, wanting to shout—
Too late!
Ji Xun had already wrapped his arm across, tightening it around A’Tang’s neck.
The shout turned into a wheezing gasping sound; after a few more breaths, A’Tang’s face gradually flushed red with blood, leaving him unable to make even a wheeze.
Ji Xun still didn’t relax. His gaze remained fixed on the opponent’s gun-holding hand until that arm finally lost all strength and dropped onto the floor.
Swift as a rising hare and a falling falcon, crisp and neat.
The battle was over.
A gun is a good thing, but one must know how to use it. Snatching the gun is a process whose ultimate goal is to neutralize the opponent’s threat; but once cause and effect are confused, the lethal weapon becomes a shackle instead, just like right now.
Ji Xun released the hand strangling the neck and placed a finger to check the other man’s breathing.
Still breathing, merely unconscious.
Ji Xun stood up, took the gun from the hand of the man on the floor, twirled it twice around his finger, and whistled.
Perfection.
