Chapter 17

Even if he was going to cross the border, he had to be extremely careful. Bai Lang really didn't want to get tripped up at the last moment. Fortunately, there were signposts along these highways. A distant glance at the place names and directions, followed by a check against the map, was enough to confirm his location.

Bai Lang carefully approached the highway under cover of darkness. He looked at the signs reflecting in the night and finally confirmed where he was. "I didn't expect to have made it into Yunnan already. This past month hasn't been wasted after all. Looks like I haven't taken a wrong turn." That was only natural. Anyone with martial arts skills like his could manage the same feat by following a compass and traveling in a straight line.

According to the map, if he continued south for a little over a hundred kilometers, Bai Lang could try to cross the border. The foreign country on the other side was, without a doubt, Myanmar. Overall, this country, which shared the longest stretch of border with Yunnan, was not particularly peaceful—not remotely comparable to China. Clashes between Myanmar's government and border warlords broke out frequently, and in the warlord-controlled areas bordering China, all sorts of illegal dealings took place.

Much of the region consisted of mountainous terrain too rugged for people to traverse, so there was basically no such thing as a barbed-wire border fence. And because of the severe anti-drug crackdown, security here was actually quite tight. The authorities mainly kept a close watch on towns along major transport routes. After all, ordinary people couldn't travel through dense tropical mountains for long. So all they had to do to fight drug trafficking and smuggling was secure a handful of transport hubs. That was also why the police lacked the capacity to seal the entire border, leaving Bai Lang a chance to slip across.

By now, experienced detectives knew the suspect was bound to get away this time. A criminal's chances of being caught declined as time passed. That was true of countless cases, including missing-person cases: the longer things dragged on, the more the golden opportunity slipped away. It had already been over a month since Bai Lang killed those human traffickers, and he was highly skilled, making his way over mountains and across rivers as if walking on level ground. Where could he have gotten to in a month? "By now, he could be anywhere in China," the veteran detective concluded. "Even if he's planning to flee the country, we probably can't stop him in the next few days. We can't block every inch of the border. With his skills, he can cross wherever he finds an unguarded stretch."

The crime was, of course, heinous. He had killed four people and wiped out an entire family. The poor punk had been forgotten, though, and deep down, people felt those four had deserved their fate. If a killer like Bai Lang fled the country, changed his name, and never came back, there didn't seem to be much reason to bring him back just to give those scumbags justice. So let him go, then. At least the trafficked woman who had been rescued said Bai Lang was a chivalrous hero who had done her an enormous kindness.

At that moment, however, the chivalrous hero was unkempt and bearded, though his movements were still agile. He was walking along a mountain ridge, and the treacherous peaks could not slow him down. After a month of hiking through the mountains, Bai Lang had become quite familiar with the art of crossing them. His martial arts had also begun to take shape, and his lightness skill had become part of his overall repertoire. His ability to travel through the mountains had grown more and more polished. Not long after crossing the border, he spotted a town below, with a highway running through it. Bai Lang felt a little nervous when he saw that all the signs were written in Chinese. He thought he was still in Yunnan.

But after confirming that he had made it to Myanmar, he let out a long sigh of relief. Bai Lang had great respect for National Law. Deep down, he had no desire to break it. If the police from his homeland found him, he really wouldn't know how to fight back and could only run. Now, at last, he could relax. With the weight off his mind, Bai Lang stretched, and his joints crackled all over. His whole demeanor immediately grew more relaxed.

Now that he had arrived, he could get in the water and wash himself, then put on some simple clothes and find a hotel to clean up. No problem—Myanmar commonly accepted Chinese yuan. After reaching the border area near China and making himself presentable, Bai Lang noticed armed soldiers and militia members carrying rifles in places on the street that were easy to overlook. This area was still at war with the Myanmar government, but that did nothing to stop casinos catering specifically to Chinese patrons from opening their doors.

Now that he was abroad, Bai Lang felt he should stick to his original plan and see if he could join the professional fighting circuit. Myanmar wouldn't do; he would have to go to Thailand, at the very least.

That didn't stop him from trying his hand at the fights in the casinos. Some casinos let people sign up to compete, and it didn't count as an underground fight. He could place bets on himself, too. "I can't go overboard. They could threaten me at any moment." Bai Lang glanced at the men with guns. "I've never tried dodging bullets." He had no intention of testing whether he could fight his way out barehanded while surrounded by people aiming guns at him. That kind of thing depended on the terrain and the timing. Either way, it wouldn't work like it did in the movies, where bullets never ricocheted and doors could stop them.

The result of his little test was that Bai Lang easily loosened up and won himself a little money. Next, he would follow the Mekong River south into Thailand. Myanmar had no wanted notice out for him, so he could freely use the money he had on hand to stock up on supplies. He could even buy a bicycle and ride it along the way. The banks of the Mekong were covered in rainforest, though, so he could only use the bicycle for part of the journey. In the end, he would still have to travel on foot.

In Myanmar, Bai Lang really didn't cause any trouble. He crossed the border into Thailand without incident. From now on, he would have to improve his English. But people in the Thai countryside didn't speak English either, which was a real headache. Martial arts were still popular in the Thai countryside. Poor people there had two ways to get ahead: either have surgery below the waist and pay for cosmetic procedures, or train hard and compete in the ring. Thailand's identity system was just as shoddy, so Bai Lang had no trouble getting into the ring.

These people weren't interested in any status. They just wanted bloody, exciting fights. As long as Bai Lang controlled his strength and didn't kill anyone in the ring, he could sweep the matches and collect the prize money with ease. Naturally, this also put him in contact with the local betting syndicate. Bai Lang told them only his surname and kept his specific identity to himself. The syndicate even helped him obtain a professional fighter's license. After all, he already had a fake identity, and out in the Thai countryside, nobody really had an ID anyway.