Asset Restructuring and Transnational Express Delivery

Sing Sing undid the buttons of his white suit.

"I'm going up to arrange a refund and collect a little compensation for emotional distress while I'm at it. Get ready. We'll leave when I get back."

Riptide frowned. "Want me to come with you?"

"No need to use a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Keep an eye on Anton."

He slipped out of the cargo hold again, his footsteps completely silent.

The captain's cabin was on the second deck.

The door had an ordinary brass pin-tumbler lock.

Sing Sing pulled out the Pig Butchering Knife, slid it into the gap by the lock, and gave his wrist a gentle flick.

"Click."

The door opened.

He slipped inside and locked it behind him.

The room wasn't big, but Black Shark had decorated it like a Middle Eastern warlord's private club.

A studded leather sofa took up half a wall. Beside it hung an oil painting of a naked woman, poorly painted, with bubbles in the paint.

Half a bottle of tequila sat on the table, and a yellow ring stained the bottom of a glass.

The room reeked of cheap cigars and body odor.

Sing Sing covered his nose, his expression pained.

"The air quality index in here must be off the charts. The environmental protection bureau would seal the door on the spot."

He had no time to dwell on it and looked around the room. Wardrobe—clothes. Worthless.

Drawers—a pile of porn magazines, two spare handguns, and three boxes of ammunition. The handguns were too old to fetch much, but the ammunition could go into Lorna's stockpile.

Sing Sing tucked the boxes of ammunition inside his jacket.

He found a heavy tin box under the bed.

He split the lock with one slash.

Inside were more than a dozen neatly stacked bundles of US dollars. They were all old bills in assorted denominations, mostly hundreds.

A rough glance put the total at forty or fifty thousand at least.

Beside them were several gold bars and three thick gold chains heavy enough to tether a dog.

"This bastard's loaded."

Sing Sing's eyes gleamed green.

"This is called confiscating illegal gains to bolster the national infrastructure fund."

He stripped the sheet off the bed and bundled up all the money and gold bars, not even sparing the diamond-studded gold lighter on the table.

Done with the captain's cabin, he slung the half-full sheet over his shoulder and sauntered to the crew lounge.

The door wasn't fully closed.

Inside, four shirtless men were playing Texas hold'em.

A pile of colorful banknotes and coins lay on the table.

A blond man wore a smug grin, holding a pair of kings.

"Once we're out on the high seas and the boss gets tired of them, those two chicks are ours."

A bearded man beside him chuckled. "The green-haired one's a real firecracker. I'm going first."

The blond slammed his cards down. "Like hell you are. I won three hundred bucks at cards, so I get first dibs."

"Three hundred bucks gets you first dibs? Last time, I took a knife for the boss—"

Sing Sing kicked the door open.

"Room inspection! Anti-pornography and anti-piracy raid! Hands behind your heads and squat down!"

The blond snapped to his senses, grabbed a bottle, and swung it at him.

Sing Sing slid in close and smashed the Pig Butchering Knife, sheath and all, into the back of the blond's head.

"Thud."

The blond's eyes rolled back, and he fell to the floor.

Before the other three could react, Sing Sing had become a blur.

A left hook, a right roundhouse kick, and a Twin Dragons Emerging from the Sea.

Three seconds.

All four men lay neatly on the floor, foaming at the mouth.

"Filthy minds. Serves you right to lose your money."

Sing Sing walked over and swept all the money on the table into his bedsheet bundle.

He also pulled the gold Rolex off the blond's wrist.

"Nice watch. I'll give it to Director Wang when I get back and see if he still dares hold up my expense claims."

He returned laden with spoils.

Sing Sing carried the bundle back to the cargo hold.

Lorna's eyelids twitched as she looked at the bulging bedsheet.

"Did you go to defend your rights or stock up on merchandise?"

"Asset restructuring."

Sing Sing set the bundle on the floor. "Black Shark unilaterally breached our agreement. It's only reasonable for me to collect a little compensation, right?"

Amy's eyes widened.

"You robbed them?"

"How can you call it robbery when a scholar does it? I was teaching them the rules of doing business!"

"Besides, that money was dirty money he made from smuggling goods and people in the first place. I turned dirty money into infrastructure funding. That's called optimizing resource allocation. Haven't you studied economics?"

Edith sat on a canvas mat and burped.

She had eaten half a turkey and downed a whole bottle of whiskey.

Two patches of red appeared on her blue face.

"I'm full."

She stood up and stretched.

"Comrade Lorna, you're up."

Sing Sing snapped his fingers.

Lorna sneered and spread her fingers, green light bursting from them.

"Crankshaft, four-cylinder diesel engine, main drive shaft, reduction gearbox, three-bladed copper-alloy propeller. All metal construction, not a single plastic part."

"It's so easy to take apart."

Sing Sing gave her a thumbs-up.

"But don't take it apart. It'd be a shame if the parts sank to the bottom of the sea. Weld the drive shaft and propeller together, then twist the crankshaft a couple of turns. Make it impossible for him to repair, but don't sink the ship."

"Why not sink it?"

"If we sink it, that counts as deliberately destroying a means of transportation. What if there are innocent crew members on board? We have to be humane."

Sing Sing added, "Besides, if the ship sinks, the insurance company will pay him, and he'll actually make money. Keep it afloat, and he'll have to pay to tow and repair it himself. That's what I call real economic sanctions."

Lorna glanced at him.

The way this man's mind worked really was on a different track from normal people's.

"Okay."

The entire cargo ship suddenly shuddered violently.

"Creak—bang!"

A tremendous crash rang out.

The ship lost power, the lights went out, and the cargo hold plunged into darkness.

"Done."

Lorna clapped her hands, her tone relaxed.

"I welded their drive shaft and propeller together. This ship's worse than an iron turtle now."

"Nicely done!"

Sing Sing turned to Edith.

"Comrade Little Yi, let's roll!"

Edith walked over and wrapped her arms around Sing Sing.

Their bodies pressed tightly together.

Sing Sing drew a sharp breath, both hands raised in the air.

"Whoa! What are you doing?!"

"I have to be in physical contact to teleport someone with me."

Edith clung to him, utterly self-assured.

"I ate too much and don't feel like walking. Carry me."

Lorna snorted in the darkness. "You're getting pretty comfortable taking advantage of him."

"I'm not! I'm sacrificing myself for work!"

Sing Sing defended himself through gritted teeth.

"Riptide, hold on to Anton! Amy, grab Lorna's clothes! Lorna, grab my shoulder!"

Everyone quickly linked up in a chain.

Edith closed her eyes, and a layer of purple spatial ripples spread over her blue skin.

"China, here we come!"

"Whoosh—"

A flash of purple light passed.

Only a few worn-out tires and bones scattered across the floor remained.

The Black Shark's bridge.

"What's going on?! Why did the engine stop?!"

Black Shark roared into the radio.

The chief engineer's terrified voice came over the radio.

"Boss! It's like we've seen a ghost! The main shaft's broken! The propeller's jammed solid! All the metal in the engine room is twisted together!"

Black Shark's head buzzed.

That green-haired chick had to be behind it!

"Fuck! I'm going to kill them!"

Black Shark drew his revolver and charged out of the bridge.

As he passed his room, he noticed the door was open.

His heart skipped a beat.

He rushed in and looked around.

The safe stood wide open, and the bedsheet was gone.

The money, gold bars, and gold chains had all vanished.

Even the solid-gold lighter on the table was gone.

"Ah!!! My money!!!"

Black Shark let out a heart-rending scream.

His eyes red, he stumbled toward the crew lounge.

The door stood wide open.

Four of his men lay sprawled across the floor.

Drool hung from the blond's mouth, and a bump had swollen on the back of his head.

The bearded man lay facedown over a chair, looking like a beached walrus.

Not a penny of the money wagered on the table remained.

Even the blond's Rolex was gone.

Black Shark's lips trembled, but he said nothing and ran for the cargo hold.

"Bang!"

It was pitch-black inside, and nothing was there.

No lunatic in a white suit, no green-haired woman.

Only a faint trace of whiskey lingered in the air.

"Where are they?! Where did they go?!"

He looked closely and saw two more lines had been added to the chalk writing on the wall.

Temporary lodging rules.

Article six: No urinating or defecating anywhere on the premises.

Below that was another line, written in a bold, sweeping hand and clearly added afterward—

"Thank you, Mr. Black Shark, for your generous sponsorship of the nation's infrastructure. Yours sincerely."

A smiley face had been drawn beside it.