“I think Huo Ranyin makes sense,” Ji Xun expressed his position.
Is what I said any different from what Huo Ranyin said? Meng Fushan glanced at Ji Xun.
Since the three of them had reached a consensus, they began preparing for their upcoming actions.
There was no rush to fight; there were still plenty of preparations to make before combat. They went up to the fourth floor first, heading toward the area where Mr. Liu worked and lived. Every bodyguard on this ship carried a gun, which meant there had to be an “armory” to supply them with ammunition and spare firearms. The bottom three floors had already been searched countless times today, and no such place existed there.
It was obvious that the “armory” could only exist on the fourth floor, where Mr. Liu was located.
They passed through the waiting lounge and the reception room without stopping, then entered Mr. Liu’s office. This room was locked, but Ji Xun once again demonstrated his formidable lock-picking skills.
“Where would the armory be?” Meng Fushan whispered.
“The office, or the bedroom,” Huo Ranyin said.
“Hmm…” Meng Fushan mused.
“Keeping it in the bedroom brings peace of mind; keeping it in the study makes it convenient to retrieve,” Ji Xun chimed in.
“Huo Ranyin’s answer wasn’t confusing in the slightest.” Meng Fushan glanced at Ji Xun again.
“So?”
“Why must you act as a translator everywhere you go?” Meng Fushan sneered. “He and I can communicate normally.”
Ji Xun choked on his words.
Huo Ranyin let out a scoff at the same time, clearly also feeling that Ji Xun was meddling needlessly.
The two each found a wall to inspect. They clearly felt there might be a hidden door inside this office, and that pushing or tapping around in various places might reveal a path leading to the armory.
Ji Xun didn’t crowd in with them. Instead, he sat down on Mr. Liu’s throne-like chair, looked to his left, then to his right, and finally gazed at the white porcelain Mazu statue on the desk.
The Mazu statue looked back at him with compassion, holding a ruyi scepter in her hand.
“There’s really a lot of porcelain here.”
“Mr. Liu likes porcelain.” Huo Ranyin sounded completely businesslike, saying neither a word too few nor a word too many.
Ji Xun let out another sigh, but before the sound could escape his lips, it was swallowed whole by the wind and rain outside.
He reached out and picked up the ruyi from the Mazu statue’s hand.
Compared to the Mazu statue—which was roughly the size of a water kettle—this ruyi was a bit too large. It was the size of a child’s palm, off-white, and appeared to be made of bone… It looked identical to the bone fan they had found in Old Hu’s envelope back in Qin City.
Ji Xun stared at the ruyi in his hand, lost in thought for a moment, then reached out to pick up the white porcelain Mazu statue. However, the statue seemed welded to the desk and didn’t budge. Substantially switching his force, Ji Xun pushed it sideways instead of lifting it up.
The Mazu statue turned.
With a few clicks, the magnificent ceiling in the office underwent a transformation. Several panels rose upward a short distance, disappearing into the darkness. Then, transparent cylindrical glass pillars lowered from the dark openings with a low hum… Mr. Liu’s armory was actually hidden above the ceiling!
However, when these glass pillars lowered completely, all three realized that every single rack and hook meant for holding firearms was completely empty.
“Could it be hidden somewhere else?” Ji Xun asked, though he held out little hope.
“Yeah,” Meng Fushan replied. “Hidden in the ocean.”
Obviously, no one actually believed Mr. Liu had hidden the guns in the sea; this was merely a dry, sarcastic joke about Mr. Liu dumping all the extra firearms into the ocean.
“He’s way too cautious,” Ji Xun remarked. “Destroying everything just so no one else can get their hands on more weapons.”
“Alright, let’s check downstairs,” Huo Ranyin said.
They headed back down. While observing the second floor, they noticed that Mr. Liu and the remaining bodyguards had returned to the hallway, patrolling back and forth.
With some effort, they leaped from the deck outside the third-floor therapy room down to the deck of the Western restaurant below, then took the staircase inside the restaurant straight down to the kitchen beneath.
The three filed into the kitchen one after another. A moment later, Ji Xun backed out the door with his eyes closed, bumping right into Huo Ranyin, who was walking behind him.
After talking through Chen Jiashu’s case, all three had agreed to cooperate. Yet, Meng Fushan still didn’t trust Huo Ranyin, and Huo Ranyin didn’t trust Ji Xun or Meng Fushan. As for Ji Xun… he was just a senseless little kitten playing around with the bone ruyi he’d swiped from Mr. Liu’s office.
Thus, the team formation became Meng Fushan at the front, Ji Xun in the middle, and Huo Ranyin bringing up the rear.
Another strange queuing philosophy unlocked.
“Sorry,” Ji Xun said.
Huo Ranyin didn’t reply. He took a step to the left, intending to step around Ji Xun and move forward.
By complete coincidence, Ji Xun also stepped to the left, blocking Huo Ranyin’s path with a 0.2-second margin.
Huo Ranyin stepped back to the middle.
Ji Xun, again with a 0.2-second margin, moved back to the middle, blocking Huo Ranyin once more.
Huo Ranyin stopped.
Ji Xun stopped too. “You might not believe it… but I really just wanted to yield the way for you.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Even if I wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t use a method so infuriating.” Ji Xun paused. “Though, since we’re already like this, how about a chat? Three minutes?”
“Fine.”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?”
“I did say that. But agreeing so quickly is a bit unexpected. It makes me feel like the upcoming conversation is definitely going to be something I don’t want to hear.” Ji Xun spoke slowly, as if making a joke. “But whether I look forward to it or not, the exchange has to happen, so let me speak first.”
In truth, what Ji Xun wanted to say didn’t require three minutes—thirty seconds was enough.
“The reason I didn’t contact the police and went on the ship alone with Meng Fushan is because Meng Fushan threatened me.”
They were talking outside the kitchen while Meng Fushan stood inside searching for usable items. The door between them was wide open, and without a doubt, Meng Fushan could hear everything.
Yet from their perspective, the person in the kitchen wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to them.
That chiseled profile remained as still as a rock.
Did this mean Ji Xun was telling the truth?
Huo Ranyin smiled playfully, refusing to take Ji Xun’s bait. Instead, he brought up a completely different matter: “Your analysis of Chen Jiashu’s case was pretty good.”
Ji Xun looked at Huo Ranyin.
Sure enough, Huo Ranyin wasn’t finished: “But after thinking it over carefully, I realized there’s another possibility in Chen Jiashu’s case.”
Even now, Meng Fushan still didn’t turn his head around—unshakable as a mountain indeed.
“I’m all ears,” Ji Xun said.
“You said that in Chen Jiashu’s case, you clung onto Zheng Xuewang because you couldn’t escape the maze inside your mind, but with just a slight shift in perspective—like the ‘isolated island in a blizzard’ scenario on this ship—stepping outside the boat makes everything fall into place… Ji Xun, the reason you didn’t investigate Meng Fushan in the beginning probably wasn’t because you didn’t think of him. You did think of Meng Fushan, but you intentionally guided the police investigation to buy time for him. Why did you do that? Because Meng Fushan’s objective was completely aligned with yours. You also wanted to know—you desperately wanted to know—the truth behind your family’s death.”
Huo Ranyin spoke word by word.
“That’s a not-so-bad answer. There’s an even worse answer—do you want to hear it?”
“Go on.” This time, it was Ji Xun who smiled.
“The worse answer is that you manipulated Meng Fushan, just as Meng Fushan manipulated Zheng Xuewang. You injected poison into Meng Fushan’s heart, and as it fermented, it ultimately became a deadly poisoned arrow… Perhaps a venomous snake has been coiling beside me all this time. A snake I’ve slept with countless times.”
Huo Ranyin delivered that last sentence softly and quickly.
Meng Fushan couldn’t hear it, but Ji Xun undoubtedly did.
“Hmm…” Ji Xun analyzed objectively. “I can’t say it’s completely baseless, but it’s a bit too idealistic.”
“How rare. You, who always rely on idealistic deductions, are actually calling me idealistic,” Huo Ranyin mocked.
“Focusing on the issue, not the person.”
“Are you going to preach about judging actions rather than intentions next?” Huo Ranyin sneered, before suddenly dragging the topic back. “What did Meng Fushan threaten you with?”
“Still want to hear?” Ji Xun raised an eyebrow.
“Three minutes aren’t up yet,” Huo Ranyin said unhurriedly. He had said what he wanted to say, but he didn’t mind listening to what Ji Xun had to say either.
“I’ll tell you after everything on this ship is over,” Ji Xun answered.
A flash of displeasure surfaced on Huo Ranyin’s face. “You stopped me for three minutes just to leave the story half-finished?”
“It wasn’t an intentional stop. Just an accident,” Ji Xun emphasized again. “Besides, what I want to tell you is something even I don’t know the answer to—it’ll take some effort to figure out, so it’s not suitable to talk about right now… However, nothing stays buried forever. Maybe if we wait a bit longer, the answer will naturally pop out on its own.”
“…”
“Don’t worry. If I said I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” Ji Xun said with a casual smile. “Even if I die, I’ll write the answer down in an envelope and mail it to you.”
“Your turn,” a voice suddenly sounded. Meng Fushan appeared behind Ji Xun like a ghost.
“My turn for what?” Ji Xun poked his head out and looked back. “I have a gun; I don’t need to go in there and scavenge.”
“Go in and take a look. You have strange luck.”
Without giving him room to argue, Meng Fushan shoved Ji Xun into the kitchen. Then, Meng Fushan shifted his gaze to Huo Ranyin’s face. He let out a cold laugh: “You hold Ji Xun in high regard, but you sure look down on me. What, do I need someone to teach me how to do things?”
Huo Ranyin frowned slightly.
Ji Xun wisely chose not to interfere with the two outside the kitchen. Doing his best, he covered half his eyes with a hand to avoid looking at the knives, rummaging through the stove, cabinets, and drawers. First, he found a jar of rock sugar, picked out a small piece, and popped it into his mouth. Next, he saw a line of condiments: black pepper, chili powder, five-spice powder, and curry powder. Throwing these directly into someone’s eyes would surely be nasty.
He then spotted several cleaning products, including a green bottle of degreasing spray. Naturally, it could be sprayed into someone’s eyes, but it could also be mixed with water and splashed on the floor around a corner—stepping on that while running would probably be quite slippery, wouldn’t it?
He opened another cabinet filled with various small kitchen appliances. Next, he pulled open a drawer packed with all sorts of kitchen tools. As Ji Xun idly flipped through them, he noticed a bare phone charger plug tucked away in a corner.
After walking around the space, Ji Xun popped two more pieces of rock sugar into his mouth and shifted his gaze toward a large bag of flour sitting in the corner.
“Pity there’s so little of it…”
The other two turned their attention to Ji Xun, who was staring at the flour.
Ji Xun looked puzzled: “Why are you looking at me? A flour explosion—it’s basic common sense, nothing to be surprised about, right?”
Are we surprised by a flour explosion?
We’re surprised that you’re still this ruthless even when you already have a gun.
Neither of them spoke, though their thoughts surprisingly reached a rare alignment.
Then Meng Fushan suddenly said, “Why look for flour? There are plenty of small gas canisters and glassware here. We can just make a few Molotov cocktails as spares.”
Since both of them had ideas, Huo Ranyin felt he should chime in as well.
He said casually, “Let’s make an elastic stretch baton. Catch them off guard with a strike to the eyes, and their combat capability will be instantly dismantled.”
“You’re not making a crossbow?” Ji Xun asked in surprise.
“…”
“Got it.” Ji Xun nodded. “A police officer’s self-restraint.”
After completing their initial preparations, Ji Xun and the other two came up with a basic tactical plan, then set out to draw the bodyguards over.
Considering the unique situation on the ship, Mr. Liu wouldn’t send all his bodyguards over at once under any circumstances. However, whether he sent a large force or a small one, the smaller portion could end up being a breakthrough point. Thus, the most likely—and perhaps only—logical move for Mr. Liu was to split his forces in half and send four bodyguards over to investigate.
Half meant four people. Three against four didn’t even require much of a detailed plan… they would just improvise on the fly.
With their strategy decided, Ji Xun specifically went to the gambling area to fetch a microphone. Turning the volume up to maximum, he tossed it near the central spiral staircase.
An extremely piercing screeching noise echoed throughout the entire vessel.
Immediately, everyone got into position, completing their ambush, and waited in suspense for the response from the bodyguards on the second floor.
Silence.
Silence.
Still silence.
A dead, heavy silence.
Outside… there was no reaction at all?
