Chapter 139: The Mighty Dragon Crosses the River

The off-road vehicle came to a halt outside the blockade.

Mo Fei jumped out of the car, clutching the door as he tried to catch his breath. "I mean, big brother, do you remember that I'm a wounded man?" Mo Fei felt his stomach churning; if he had actually eaten anything, he would have vomited by now.

Long Er unloaded the equipment with a straight face. "Forgot."

Mo Fei choked, thumping his chest and rolling his eyes as he struggled to steady his breathing.

Long Er had truly forgotten that Mo Fei had just been blasted by a rocket launcher. It was hard to blame him, though; an ordinary person would have been bedridden for at least two days after being tossed aside like that, not darting around with such vitality. He was thick-skinned and rugged, seemingly in no danger of dying. If he wasn't dying, what was there to worry about? For mercenaries, as long as you weren't dead, it wasn't a major problem.

Long Er handed him a square scarf. "Cover your face. Copy their style. The Golden Triangle is a melting pot of filth and chaos—keep your mouth shut."

Mo Fei tied on the mask and nodded, patting his chest to show he understood. He finally realized that in this place, Chinese was like a second language; there was no way to encrypt anything here. Long Er definitely knew the rules of this place better than he did, so as long as he followed him and didn't drag him down, he would be fine.

Seeing Mo Fei promise with such conviction, Long Er hesitated, then began putting on his tactical vest. Whether he understood or not... he had better actually understand.

Dressed in a tan tactical vest, cargo pants, and combat boots, with a submachine gun cradled in his arms, Long Er looked like he belonged in the Golden Triangle. Just looking at him, one could tell he was someone not to be trifled with. Mo Fei covered the lower half of his face with a triangular scarf, trailing behind Long Er like a subordinate.

In the Golden Triangle, everyone—man, woman, or child—carried weapons. Every person who saw a stranger would cast a scrutinizing, measuring gaze, as if one had stumbled into a pack of wild beasts. They only looked away once they confirmed the newcomer was of their own kind, rather than a hunter or prey. Long Er was well-adapted to this environment, but Mo Fei was not quite as used to it. Had it not been for the mask, he wouldn't have known what kind of expression to wear.

He felt an urge to laugh. But a clown's laugh wasn't exactly friendly; it always carried a hint of threat and provocation... which actually suited this place quite well.

Long Er navigated the area with ease, finding a local intelligence dealer and communicating in English. The linguistic landscape of the Golden Triangle was complex: Burmese, Chinese, English, Hakka, Spanish, Thai... in short, if you could think of it, you could hear it. It was truly a place where one had to be wary of walls having ears.

Mo Fei’s English was mediocre, and the dealer had a thick accent that only someone like Long Er, who dealt with them regularly, could decipher. After negotiating for a while, Long Er took out his phone, typed something, and handed it to Mo Fei. It was the dealer’s asking price.

Mo Fei stared at the number and whispered, "Yen?"

"US Dollars."

What a profiteer! Why not just go rob someone? No, wait—even robbing a bank wouldn't be this fast!

Long Er took the phone back and started typing again. If not for the ongoing civil war in Myanmar, no amount of money could convince anyone to betray the location of the medical ship. If something happened to that ship, it wouldn't just offend the five major families; it would also anger many wealthy and powerful people waiting on the black market for organs to save their lives.

Since these things couldn't be explained in a few sentences, Long Er gestured for him to walk to a quieter spot.

"You were in the country before, so you don't understand the importance of the medical ship. There are countless people in the world who need organs and blood to treat their illnesses, but the number of natural deaths and voluntary donors in each country can't come close to meeting that massive demand. So, the medical ships were born for this purpose."

Mo Fei pulled a sour face, clearly unhappy. "Garbage. Blow it up."

"And then you’d have a global kill order on your head," Long Er lowered his voice, his face more serious than ever. "The former Italian godfather lived to be eighty-two, but he should have died when he was seventy-five. Do you know why he lived so long? In his later years, he underwent three kidney transplants and two heart transplants. Every single donor was a young person in their twenties. There are also princes, bishops..." Long Er stopped himself.

"Some people wait years for an organ transplant and die waiting, while others feel a little unwell and immediately have a suitable donor. Where do you think those organs come from? The medical ships and Indonesia have always been the largest exporters of human organs. If the ships are gone, you're cutting off their lifeline. They will never let you go."

Mo Fei fell silent.

"But it’s not me affecting the ship right now; it's the bigger picture."

"That’s why I had Third Sister go back to report it to the authorities," Long Er scanned the surroundings, ensuring no one was paying attention before continuing. "With the state getting involved, if you keep a low profile, they won't be able to pin it on you."

"How can they get involved with a ship in international waters?" Mo Fei asked, recalling the criminal law books he had studied. "Jurisdiction by nationality."

According to the principle of territoriality, crimes on the high seas are governed by the laws of the country where the vessel is registered. But the law doesn't just have the principle of territoriality; it also has the principle of personality. Article 7 of the Criminal Law states that as long as either the perpetrator or the victim is a citizen of the country, and someone reports it, the police have jurisdiction!

"Thank your citizenship," Long Er scoffed as he saw Mo Fei realize the implication. "Third Sister and I both hold dual citizenship. It makes working abroad easier, but it's not recognized by the family."

This was why Long Er hadn't sent Mo Fei to report it himself. There were undoubtedly citizens on that ship, but that alone wasn't enough of a safeguard. Nothing was more convenient than having someone on the scene to handle things—it gave the 'Old Man' a reason to smash the faces of those black-hearted vultures.

If the police intervened, the matter would be transferred to the Navy, then hit the international news, and then the 'righteous' parties would jump out to point fingers and claim the Old Man was overstepping. But if his own people were involved, he could simply say, "My people are on that ship; what's wrong with me going to pick up my own family?" It would be perfectly justified! He could stand on the moral high ground and slap the faces of those moral hypocrites. It would also allow the Old Man to act without hesitation.

After grasping the principle of personality, Mo Fei smiled. "I didn't realize that for someone who looks so stiff and stern, you've thought this all through."

His face fell. "But after all that, we still don't even have a shadow of the ship. How are we supposed to find anyone? If we actually bought information from that black-hearted dealer, even selling myself wouldn't cover the cost of a single clue."

"It's correct that we can't find it. The ship isn't even here," Long Er said casually. "Follow me."

Mo Fei, having heard only half the answer, was displeased. "You could at least explain yourself. What do you mean the ship isn't here? Hey!"