The Pig Butchering Knife Protects the Ladies! Female Comrades' Hair Is Off-Limits

In the end, Black Shark had someone lower the gangway, though he did so very reluctantly.

"Get on board! Don't cause trouble!"

Sing Sing patted Black Shark on the shoulder, looking gratified.

"That's more like it. People in the service industry need to understand service."

Black Shark's eye twitched, but he said nothing.

His gaze, however, was dark.

It was the vengeful darkness of a man who had just been beaten into a "crispy shark" in public, after his authority had crumbled.

Once the ship left port...

Then he would lock those bastards in the refrigerated cargo hold.

He'd make them understand who was boss aboard the Black Shark!

Who was the law at sea!

Sing Sing pretended not to notice his gaze, adjusted his white cap, and turned to call to the others.

"Come on, comrades, aboard."

Just then, Slug pulled a satellite phone from inside his clothes and pressed it into Sing Sing's hand.

Its casing was badly worn, and tape was wrapped around its corners.

"Take it."

Sing Sing glanced down at it.

"What condition is it in?"

"Is now the time to ask that?"

"Of course." Sing Sing said solemnly, "Equipment depreciation affects asset registration."

Slug glared at him. "It's an encrypted satellite phone. Don't initiate contact before you resupply off Vancouver, unless the ship is sinking or you've been chopped to pieces."

Sing Sing frowned. "What if it's just a minor leak?"

"Bail it out with a bucket yourself!"

"Who reimburses the phone bill?"

Slug completely lost it. "You have to make it back alive before you're entitled to reimbursement!"

"Good point." Sing Sing nodded. "Go back and stay hidden. Don't get caught."

"You think I'm stupid? I'm moving somewhere else right now."

"What about the wellness center?"

"I'm about to lose my life. What good is wellness?"

Sing Sing sighed. "Capitalism is a sea of misery. Even the wellness industry can't count on stability."

Slug couldn't be bothered with him. He turned and climbed into a taxi.

Before leaving, he rolled down the window and called out one more time, "Remember, Black Shark is no good!"

Sing Sing waved. "Don't worry, I'm no good either."

The group boarded the Black Shark.

The Panama-flagged cargo ship looked old from the outside.

Rust covered the deck, old ropes were wound around the railings, and several shipping containers were stacked crookedly.

The crew stood on either side, casting lecherous looks at Lorna and Amy.

Even knowing that the women were mutants, in a place like this ship, they could still be blinded by lust.

Lorna's fingertips twitched slightly.

A loose iron nail nearby silently rose into the air.

Sing Sing reached out and held her wrist.

"Control your emotions. We're boarding right now."

"I don't like the way they're looking at us," Lorna said coldly.

"Let them look," Sing Sing said. "Their eyeballs are in their own faces. We can't dismantle public transportation just because they have no manners."

"This ship counts as public transportation?"

"Illegal transportation is still transportation. If you dismantle it, are we supposed to swim back?"

Lorna was silent for a second, and the nail fell back onto the deck.

Black Shark led the way ahead.

"You're staying below."

He lifted a hatch, revealing a narrow iron ladder.

Sing Sing leaned over to look down.

It was pitch-black below, with only a few dim yellow bulbs swaying.

The cargo hold's intermediate level was packed with boxes of frozen fish, diesel drums, old tires, torn canvas, and several coils of hemp rope.

The so-called "passenger quarters" were worse than a pigsty.

Sing Sing fell silent for a moment.

At last, a hint of a malicious smile appeared on Black Shark's face.

"What? Not good enough for you?"

Sing Sing shook his head.

"It's not that." He looked up and asked seriously, "How did these accommodations pass the fire safety inspection?"

Black Shark: "..."

"And piling so many diesel drums and old tires together is a serious safety hazard. Those bulbs are hanging from old-fashioned exposed wires, too. What if there's a short circuit and a fire? Where's your emergency evacuation plan at sea? Have the fire extinguishers had their annual inspection?"

A vein throbbed on Black Shark's forehead.

"Get down there."

"Don't be so rude."

As Sing Sing descended the ladder, he said, "With that attitude, you'll have a hard time growing your business."

Conditions in the cargo hold were even worse than they had imagined.

A few rats darted out from behind the tires, squeaking twice.

Sing Sing, however, was already in work mode.

He rolled up the sleeves of his white suit and looked around.

"A little hardship doesn't matter. We're on a business trip to the grassroots, so we can't expect too much."

Lorna looked at the frozen-fish boxes covering the floor. "You call this a little hardship?"

"It's better than some county guesthouses."

Sing Sing bent down, picked up an old tire, and tossed it into a corner.

"Riptide, move those diesel drums out of the way. Anton can't sleep in a draft, or next to the diesel drums. Lorna, help gather up these iron hooks, so nobody gets stabbed in the middle of the night. Amy, stand here for now. Don't step in that puddle of black water."

Sing Sing picked out a few relatively clean pieces from a pile of scrap wood, used the Pig Butchering Knife to shave off the splinters with a series of sharp cuts, then rigged up a simple partition with hemp rope and canvas.

"Female comrades' rest area. It's temporary."

"Resources are limited, so make do. Put two frozen-fish boxes inside as stools, then lay down a layer of canvas. At least it'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you," Amy said quietly.

Sing Sing waved a hand. "Don't thank me. Protecting female employees' privacy is a basic responsibility of the work unit."

Lorna looked at the crooked canvas and suddenly asked, "Did you used to take care of others like this, too?"

Sing Sing thought for a moment.

"When I used to sell pork, I covered it with a white cloth too."

Lorna's face darkened. "Are you comparing us to pork?"

"That's not what I meant," Sing Sing hurriedly explained. "I mean, covering things up is important. Meat deserves to be treated with dignity, and people even more so."

Lorna snorted, but said nothing more.

Riptide moved the diesel drums aside, clearing a space near a ventilation opening.

Anton was gently lowered down and settled against a roll of old canvas.

Sing Sing checked the ventilation opening and felt the temperature of the wall.

"This spot is all right. The draft won't blow directly on you, and it's not too cold."

Anton said quietly, "Were you really an agent before?"

"Of course."

Sing Sing placed a board beneath his feet. "Agents need to understand logistics too. An agent who can't arrange sleeping quarters isn't a good pork seller."

The cargo ship's engine rumbled to life.

The hull shuddered gently, and the ship slowly pulled away from the dock.

Seawater slapped against the hull with a dull sound.

Shouts from the crew and the sound of sliding chains came from above.

The Black Shark had left port.

Lorna looked up and sensed their surroundings.

"We've left the dock."

Sing Sing was arranging the frozen-fish boxes. Hearing that, he sighed.

"Now that we're out of sight of the people's supervision, the criminal forces are going to rear their heads."

Sure enough, before long, footsteps sounded on the iron ladder.

Black Shark entered the cargo hold with four of his men.

His face had been given some basic treatment, and a bandage was stuck on it.

He looked even more like a fish that had been flattened and then forced itself to swim back into the sea.

Standing in the doorway, he sneered. "You really have made yourself at home here, haven't you?"

Sing Sing was writing on the wall with a piece of chalk.

Temporary accommodation rules:

1. No smoking.

2. No harassing female comrades.

3. Pile garbage in a designated area.

4. Keep quiet after ten at night.

5. No open flames near the diesel drums.

Black Shark looked at the lines of writing, and the vein on his forehead began to throb again.

"The rules aboard this ship have changed," he said.

Lorna slowly raised her eyes, and Riptide stepped in front of Anton.

Amy instinctively took half a step back.

Sing Sing was still writing the sixth rule.

6. No urinating or defecating anywhere you please.

Only after he finished did he turn around. "What's changed?"

"On this ship, I decide how the fresh water, food, and berths are allocated."

He raised a hand and pointed at Lorna and Amy. "These two women will stay in the captain's cabin from now on."

"Creak—"

The nails and brackets in the cargo hold walls trembled at the same time.

A whirlwind appeared around Riptide, sweeping up dust from the floor.

"Does the captain's cabin meet the inspection standards for female employees' accommodations?"

Black Shark frowned. "What?"

"How many beds are there? How's the ventilation? Is there a separate lock on the door? Can it be locked from the inside? Are there rules against male crew members entering without permission?"

The smile gradually vanished from Black Shark's face.

Sing Sing said seriously, "If not, then it doesn't meet the safety requirements for female employees' accommodations. We can't go."

One of the crew cursed, "Do you fucking think this is a hotel?"

Sing Sing shook his head. "A hotel at least has a front desk for registration. You're worse than an unlicensed inn."

Black Shark stepped forward, his gaze vicious.

"I'm not asking you."

He went around Sing Sing, walked toward Amy, and reached out to touch her hair.

The next second, a flash of silver swept past.

The back of the Pig Butchering Knife stopped against Black Shark's wrist.

Sing Sing still wore a smile, but his eyes were ice-cold.

"Mr. Shark."

His voice was very soft.

"A female comrade's hair is not public waters."