Chapter 20.2

Mo Zimu watched Mammon slowly disappear into the vast night, and suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. It was an instinct he had developed after surviving countless life-and-death situations over the years. He quickly turned around, just as a flash of cold light swept across his vital spot.

A Japanese man wielding a curved blade swung it in front of him, missing with the first strike. Without blinking, he bent the blade and countered with a horizontal slash.

Mo Zimu couldn’t help but cry out in surprise. The Hunter was actually on their ship.

In that instant, he finally understood what Geoffrey had meant. He had been warning him to watch out for this man. The realization made Mo Zimu’s heart nearly leap out of his chest.

At that moment, he suddenly felt his body lighten, as if he were being lifted off the ground. Looking down, he saw Jack’s towering figure, standing like a wall before him.

The blade flashed again, slicing through Jack’s thick flesh, and blood immediately sprayed out.

Hearing the noise, Tom and Tommy rushed from the cockpit. Jack threw Mo Zimu toward Tommy, and Kōsō immediately abandoned his struggle with the human wall in front of him and continued charging toward his target.

Tommy and Tom pulled out their guns and fired wildly at him. However, Kōsō suddenly vanished, as if he had disappeared into thin air.

“Heavens!” Tom screamed. “Is this a vampire?”

“No, this is ninjutsu from the East,” Mo Zimu shouted. “He’s wearing black, blending into all things dark.”

Tommy, Tom, Jack, and Mo Zimu stood back-to-back. Tommy nervously scanned the surroundings. The yacht wasn’t large, and the Japanese man could be hiding anywhere!

“Be careful!” Tommy yelled.

A cold light passed by as a ghost-like figure appeared from the shadows, materializing as if inflating from a paper cutout into a solid form. Tommy pushed the distracted Tom aside as his own arm was severed by the gleaming blade.

Mo Zimu’s fork flew in that instant, but Kōsō disappeared once again.

“Dad!” The girl, seeing her long-lost father suddenly lose his arm, ran out in a panic.

“Don’t move, don’t move, little Nelly, stand against the wall!”

Despite her extreme fear, Nelly obediently pressed herself against the wall.

Mo Zimu scanned the surroundings and slowly walked, speaking coldly, “I know you’ve been injured. I’m certain that fork hit you. Soon your blood will reveal your position. We still have a gun, and four of us. Your odds aren’t good. How about we talk?”

He stood under the light, and suddenly, something felt off in the room. A shadow dropped from above as if a giant bat had fallen from the sky. Mo Zimu was ready with his fork, but before he could strike, two gunshots rang out, and the bat-like figure crashed to the ground like a falling bird.

A wet young man with black hair walked in, smiling, “That was close. Glad you guys hurt him, or killing Kōsō would’ve been tough.”

“You are…?” Mo Zimu looked at him. He wasn’t seeing him for the first time. This young man always had a diplomatic air about him. He said, “Noè?”

Noè smiled, “The honor is mine! Now, how about you all put down your guns?”

Tommy’s gun had already flown along with his severed arm, and the only one left holding a gun, Tom, glanced at the gun aimed at them. After a moment of hesitation, he swallowed and reluctantly tossed the gun aside.

Noè nodded with a smile. “No wonder you’ve made it this far. Knowing when to assess the situation is crucial.”

Following Noè’s instruction, except for Tommy, everyone was bound by Mo Zimu, and after a thorough check, Noè bound Mo Zimu as well.

Once done, he opened the hatch to the lower cabin, “Sorry, but you’ll have to stay down there for a while.”

The group had no choice but to follow his words and descend the stairs one by one. As soon as Nelly stepped down, she let out a scream.

The cabin floor was littered with the bodies of men and women, likely Donald’s servants, bodyguards, and crew members. Organs were spilled everywhere, painting the walls with blood. No wonder they hadn’t seen a single soul in this cabin earlier. For someone like Donald, who loved extravagance, it was unimaginable that he’d only bring one bodyguard on a trip. It seemed Kōsō had helped them take out quite a few people.

Mo Zimu did his best not to look at the grotesque sight of the gutted bodies, like frogs splayed open as he squeezed into the yacht’s kitchen with the rest. Though cramped, especially with Jack’s massive frame blocking most of the space, the group was packed together like sardines in a can, struggling to breathe. Yet, no one dared to step outside to face the nauseating stench of blood. Instead, they endured the kitchen’s faint aroma of herbs and freshly baked butter cookies, likely prepared under Donald’s orders for Mo Zimu’s arrival.

Noè glanced at their predicament, smiling faintly as if he didn’t notice the corpses underfoot. Stepping into the kitchen, he collected all the knives and cooking tools, then grinned and said, “Doesn’t it feel more spacious now?”

Mo Zimu let out a sigh of relief. “You’re one crafty guy.”

Noè raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You flatter me.”

Noè took out a first aid kit and bandaged the arms of Tommy and Jack. Mo Zimu then said, “Thank you.”

Noè smiled again. “You’re remarkably fair in grudges and gratitude.”

Mo Zimu remained silent as he stepped back up to the deck.

The boat continued its journey.

Tom muttered under his breath, “Why doesn’t this hunter want to kill us? What’s his purpose?”

Mo Zimu shook his head. Nelly clung to her father, sobbing quietly. Tommy let out a heavy sigh.“We’re already lucky. Very lucky.”

The yacht traveled farther than they had anticipated but stopped short of dawn. Noè descended once more to drag Mo Zimu away.

Tom, seemingly already accustomed to depending on Mo Zimu, saw Noè take him and panicked, “Where are you taking Seven?”

Noè didn’t answer. Mo Zimu smiled faintly. “Take care. Goodbye.”

Back on the upper deck, the yacht docked at a small, secluded island. The scenery was picturesque, with lush greenery scattered across the terrain. It was clearly a private island belonging to a wealthy elite in the Virgin Islands.

The boat was anchored at a private dock where a young man in black stood waiting, watching them disembark.

As Mo Zimu glanced at him, his face instantly turned pale. The man was none other than Rong Qing.