Hou Xian stood nervously at the airport customs checkpoint, waiting to clear the border. Unease showed faintly on his face.
Lower River's customs was notoriously hard to get through. Word was that nine out of ten people bringing goods in got caught, and those who were caught often disappeared, never to be seen again.
That was why their people privately called the route to Lower River the Death Line. Unfortunately, this time it was his turn. He had no choice but to make the trip...
The experienced customs officers spotted his unease at once and took him into a small room for inspection. Before long, they found a large packet of something resembling table salt hidden inside the fake paunch strapped to his stomach.
"Holy Salt..."
The customs officers' faces changed. They recoiled from the stuff as though they had seen a nest of vipers, and the looks they gave Hou Xian turned hostile.
Hou Xian cursed inwardly. He tried to fight his way out at once, but how could it be that easy? The moment he moved, they subdued him and snapped handcuffs on his wrists.
They pulled a hood over his head and took him away. After a long, jolting journey, they even boarded a boat. He could hear waves around him.
Hou Xian was baffled. What was going on? Did he have to take a boat just to reach a prison in Lower River? Was it on Small Island?
When someone began tying a rope around him, his confusion gave way to a creeping fear. He shouted, "Where the hell are we? Where are you taking me?"
"Where? To the bottom of the sea, of course." A strange, mocking voice sounded by his ear. "Don't worry. We'll reach international waters soon..."
Panic seized Hou Xian. Suddenly he