Speaking Straight Is My Ninja Way!

He had prayed to the stars and the moon. He had urged, urged, and urged again. Minkler had endured day after day, wandering around the Haian industrial park like an augmented worker who had slipped out of Workshop No. 0. Lu Feng had bailed him out of the security office several times while cursing up a storm, until Minkler finally received the news that Ji Jue was ready to depart. Then, Minkler's world collapsed. "What is this?" At a hidden smugglers' dock outside Xinquan, Minkler stared dumbfounded at the rust-encrusted, creaking contraption before him—a thing that looked ready to fall apart in the slightest breeze. Ji Jue replied placidly, "A ship." "You call this a ship?!" Minkler was on the verge of madness. He raised a hand and knocked on the hull, sending rust flaking down like a shower of rain. Look at how it rattled and dropped debris with a single kick! Forget rough winds and high waves—a slightly sharp turn would probably shake it to pieces! Even if you'd brought a smuggling speedboat, I could at least pretend speed was the whole point! He reached out and scratched at the hull, effortlessly peeling away a huge strip of paint. His face grew even paler. "We won't sink into the sea before we even reach the Seven Cities, will we?!" "Impudence! This is Haian's finest steel and firepower!" Ji Jue immediately took offense. "Don't go disparaging quality goods when you see them! I dug deep into my reserves to pull out this treasure!" No matter how much Minkler pleaded or argued, Ji Jue remained utterly obstinate. It was this one ship, and just him alone. That was the entirety of the reinforcements. Take it or leave it—there wasn't anything else! If that wasn't good enough, Ji Jue could always offer him a rotten plank and two oars so he could row himself back! Having lost all will to live, Minkler watched the colossal objects being hoisted into the hold, completely unable to comprehend what he was seeing. "—What are all these?" Ji Jue answered as though stating the obvious, "Crucibles, of course." "Do crucibles look like that?" Minkler felt even worse. "There are several huge cracks along the sides! These things have got to be older than I am!" "The older the crucible, the richer its spiritual affinity. What do you know? Three years new, three years old, patch it up for three years more. Dilapidation has its perks—cheap, effective, and zero waste. It'll do!" "J-just this?" Minkler watched the hold close once the hoisting finished. He waited and waited, but the true main event never arrived. "W-where are the missiles?" "Didn't you say you didn't want them?" Ji Jue shook his head. "We're out of stock. You boys will just have to make do with a few Rhinos. I'll give you a twenty-percent discount off the procurement price." *Damn it all, second-hand Rhino submachine guns go for eight hundred a piece wholesale in the Thousand Islands, and they throw in two full magazines! On your procurement sheet, they're nineteen thousand each, accessories not included, and the ammo has to be bought separately! Do you really take me for such a sucker?!* Minkler felt a mouthful of blood stick in his throat. He panted heavily for a long moment, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine, fine... consider it a bundled purchase requirement. What about torpedoes? Do you have torpedoes?" "What do you need torpedoes for? Aren't we fighting calamity beasts?" Ji Jue gave him a puzzled look. "I brought twenty fishing rods. That ought to be more than enough, right?" Minkler fell silent. He didn't say a word. He stared quietly at the mooring line tied to the dock, suddenly overcome by an urge to hang himself from it. Either way, he was dead meat. If he put on red clothes and died right in front of Ji Jue, maybe he could turn into a vengeful wraith and haunt him! Yet the moment he remembered Ji Jue was an artisan, his despair deepened. Even if he actually turned into a ghost to seek revenge, that bastard would probably grin from ear to ear. *Heavens above, free materials delivered right to my doorstep!* He might as well just jump into the sea and drown right now. At least that would be quick, painless, and end it all. And so, a rickety rust-bucket that rattled with every shudder set out, carrying an artisan who looked like he was heading for a leisurely picnic with nothing on him, a cannon-fodder officer whose heart had turned to ash amidst flowing tears, and a hold full of dirt-cheap, multi-hand crucibles, chugging and clattering on its way. Amidst continuous tremors throughout the hull, rocking violently like a tractor and belching black smoke, this relic dredged up from who-knew-what obscure corner of a shipyard plowed through the waves, heading toward the haze at the edge of the sea. Gradually, the land vanished. All around them, nothing remained except water that blended deep blue with iron gray. In the silence, the only sounds were the deafening roar of an engine groaning under what felt like an impossible overload, the creaking, warped wail of the hull under the assault of the waves, and the steady glug-glug of water leaking into the hold... Thinking back on it, wasn't his own bleak and hopeless future just like this broken ship? Minkler could no longer hold it in and burst into loud wails! "I'd rather be dead!" Pointing at Ji Jue, he choked with grief and outrage. "Old Ji, I've never shorted you a single cent! Whenever I bought your stuff, I paid double without batting an eye! As a human being, the least you could do—even if you don't act like a human, an artisan should at least have a con—even if you have no conscience, you... I... I—" His righteous indignation sputtered and choked, until by the end, he couldn't even keep the accusations going. Before an artisan renowned for having neither manners, nor morals, nor a conscience, any number of accusations was utterly futile. He only hated that he had been so blind as to come all the way to Haian for help, only to end up in such a humiliating state, toyed with by Ji Jue. "Hey, Old Ming, what are you babbling about? You can't just judge things by appearances!" Ji Jue sighed, offering earnest advice. "You're completely misjudging my good intentions. Haven't you ever heard that divine treasures obscure their own radiance and keep their brilliance concealed? Let me tell you, if you don't recognize the technical sophistication of this ship, I'll just chalk it up to your narrow horizons. If you understood even a fraction of it, it would be like a mayfly catching sight of the boundless sky—" "Sight of my ass!" Minkler had broken down completely. He couldn't resist stomping his foot. With that single stomp, a crack snapped open in the deck beneath him. Amidst the echoing creaks, both men fell silent. "If we rely on this pile of junk, we'll be laughed to death!" Minkler cursed furiously. "Look at this trash! Look at this piece of shit! You're telling me this thing can fight calamity beasts? Never mind calamity beasts—a good piss from me would wash it right into the sea!" "Watch your mouth!" Ji Jue's expression grew solemn. "My ship has its pride, too." "Pride my ass!" Minkler's fury only swelled. He didn't dare curse at Ji Jue, but he certainly dared curse at this wretched ship. Yet just as he opened his mouth, pointing at the vessel, a tremendous roar shook the air. A terrifying blast of sound hit him like a howling gale. At the highest point of the freighter, the steam whistle that had looked like a mere ornament suddenly vented plumes of white smoke, shrieking fiercely amidst a torrent of scalding steam. The deafening blast erupted so abruptly that Minkler's vision went dark, and he nearly lost his footing. The whistle, like a wild instrument, blasted out a boisterous melody: *Sol! Mi! Fa!* "—" Minkler was stunned. "—" Ji Jue fell silent. Minkler's expression twitched with utter bewilderment. "Was it... cursing at me?" "Huh? No way!" Ji Jue looked at him with apparent confusion. "It's just your imagination, Old Ming. Don't go around imagining you're being persecuted all the time. How could a ship curse at you?" Before the words had finished leaving his mouth, another shrill, booming blast sounded: *Sol! Mi! Fa! Hwa!* "It's still cursing!" "Come on, what's a curse or two? The kid's still young and doesn't know any better. It's just fooling around." Ji Jue waved a hand as if Minkler were making a fuss over nothing. "Look at me—I've got such a great temper, and I haven't cursed once. How could a ship curse? You're just overthinking things." Minkler was at a temporary loss for words. "Is... is that so?" "Of course!" Ji Jue nodded decisively. Then the whistle blew again. This time, Minkler didn't say a word. He just stared gloomily at him. "..." Ji Jue awkwardly averted his gaze toward the sea. In the end, he couldn't hold it back and let out a snort of laughter. "What are you laughing at?!" "I'm not laughing." "You're clearly laughing your head off!" Silent tears streamed down inside Minkler's heart. He was speechless. There was nothing left to say anyway. What else could he do? At the very least, a ship that could curse was still better than an ordinary scrap-metal wreck ready for the breaker's yard, wasn't it? As a desperate petitioner sheltering under another's roof, what could he offer besides empty promises? Let it curse. Better that than having this bastard Ji Jue turn against him for real. No matter how frequently they had dealt with each other over this past period, Minkler had always known that this man was by no means an easy customer, much less some merciful philanthropist. One needed only to look at how he had handled those unfortunates from the Blood Cleansing Fleet. Just days ago, one of those poor souls had been released from the industrial park after serving his sentence, put on display as a living specimen to recount his experiences! Nowadays, Haian's 'Blessing' industrial park was treated like a horror story across the Endless Sea... Moreover, the messes this bastard had stirred up in the Mid-Continent weren't hard to uncover at all. If one truly provoked him, he'd go around slapping the label of the Evil Transmutation Cult on anyone he pleased. Who could possibly withstand that?! At this juncture, no matter what Ji Jue did, Minkler's only option was to believe. Believe first, and keep believing! Just trust him and be done with it. If he didn't, his only choice was to wait for death! He didn't even bother going down into those leaking cabins where the lights flickered constantly. Instead, he grabbed a rickety chair and sat down on the deck. The moment his rear touched it, the chair shattered beneath him, nearly skewering him on a splintered wooden post! Fuming with rage, he simply threw himself down flat on his back, staring up at the sky. He refused to move. Whatever happens, happens. He was exhausted! In truth, this really couldn't be blamed on Ji Jue! One had to realize that before departing from Punabantu, this ship had been brand-new. The quality of its hull materials and equipment specifications hadn't lagged behind military grade in the slightest, even utilizing top-tier composite armor. Yet... Yet Little Niuma was simply too damn voracious! When Desolate Ruins converged, material properties attracted each other—that was an ironclad law governing the flow of matter. Lesser matter naturally gravitated toward greater matter. The stronger the material properties, the more terrifying this gravitational pull became. To the point where, once this attraction and repulsion originating from dragon blood reached a certain threshold while carrying the inherent effect of Three-Phase Alchemy, the Juque dragon bone alone would continuously leach the material essence of everything surrounding it. Like a black hole. What was more, Ji Jue's corrupted version of Earth Bears and Sea Embraces was built entirely on the principle of taking from the deficient to enrich the abundant! Expressed outwardly, this meant any matter that drew near to the *Prosperity*—or rather, near to the Juque dragon bone—would rapidly lose durability, turning brittle, rotten, and aged! This wasn't even under Little Niuma's conscious control; it was merely the dragon blood's instinct to repair itself. Ji Jue's method of reducing quantity to increase quality had indeed dramatically elevated the purity and properties of the dragon blood, but the price was that he needed to expend vastly more matter to mend it. Until the Juque dragon bone's durability was truly restored to one hundred percent, this gravitational pull wouldn't cease. Unfortunately... According to Ji Jue's estimates, even after feeding it a massive pile of assorted ores and materials, the Juque dragon bone's durability had only risen by less than three percent. The deficit still exceeded seventy percent! Having an excessively long health bar was a headache in its own right. It could never get enough to eat! If Ji Jue hadn't used alchemy to maintain the critical machinery, the entire ship would likely have been stripped down to a solitary dragon bone before they had traveled even a few nautical miles. By then, the two of them would have had no choice but to grab oars and row their way to the Seven Cities to beg for scraps. Fortunately, the sea route between the Federation and the Seven Cities wasn't overly long. Aided occasionally by ocean currents, and with the cargo ship being exceptionally light, even at such an awkward, lumbering pace, a proper course would bring them there in two days. In reality, the *Prosperity*'s speed was far more astonishing than that. Without landmarks on the open sea, it was hard to tell, but in its steady acceleration, the entire freighter had surged to a terrifying seventy knots. Even slightly slower speedboats couldn't have kept up. In just a couple of hours, they had cleared the Federation's territorial waters and entered the high seas. Catching sight of the buoys marking international waters, Minkler was momentarily stunned. He stared in disbelief, glanced at Ji Jue, and upon seeing that Ji Jue had no intention of explaining, held his tongue. He finally breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up a cup of instant noodles and began to eat. Amidst the chugging engine, the *Prosperity* continued to speed along, cleaving through the wind with uncanny agility. The whistle sounded repeatedly, practically singing in a ceaseless cacophony of squawks and blares. From far away, a fishing vessel hauling nets fled in panic at the sight of them, leaving Minkler thoroughly amused. It felt just like a fugitive at the end of his rope dressing up as a wild boar in the bushes to scare people for fun. One could only say that a person needed a little amusement to keep on living. Ji Jue shook his head and sighed. "Still laughing? The ones coming to collect your life are here." "Huh?" Minkler froze. "It's true that it's fishing season right now, but any fishing boat operating in this stretch of water resupplies and gathers at Xinquan. The problem is, that boat has never shown its face in Xinquan at all. Its transponder identifies it as a fishing vessel, sure, but that registration was lingering around Chaocheng just two days ago." "Is... is something wrong with that?" Minkler asked, bewildered. "The Federation's high-seas fishing permits have annual quotas and strict thresholds; only genuine fishing conglomerates can secure them. Common fishermen might ignore those rules, but in the end, it's business kept off the books—nothing that can see the light of day." Ji Jue asked, "And whose whims do businesses off the books have to respect?" "Uh, the Wild Gathering?" "At least you're not completely beyond saving." Ji Jue sighed. "The Wild Gathering has few rules, but they are far harsher—harsh enough that crossing them means death, and once crossed, your whole lineage gets wiped out. For some smuggling boats, even docking at the wrong port or arriving at the wrong destination can cost the captain his hands and feet. "Even if the higher-ups don't care about the meager pennies earned by fishing boats, rules are rules. This area belongs to Yacheng by default. A boat from Chaocheng showing up to fish here without paying respects at the dock or paying tribute to the Dragon Head is what we call crossing the line. "The season for yellow-lip croakers here is brief each year, and the yield isn't high to begin with. Then you come over and cast sweep nets to wipe them clean? If a Yacheng boat spotted that, they'd report it to the guild and hunt them to the ends of the earth! "So, do you still think that boat came all the way out here and just happened across you purely for a few fish?" Minkler stood paralyzed, stiff as a board. Even as they spoke, a thin mist had risen over the sea ahead at some point, wisps weaving together and growing rapidly dense. In a matter of minutes, a high gray-white wall seemed to have materialized out of thin air before them. The sea fog surged like a tide, howling as it rolled in! "Heh—" Ji Jue chuckled, letting out a soft sigh. "Why do you Thousand Islands folks always love conjuring up abnormal weather before making a move at sea? "Quite the sticklers for ritual, aren't you?" Some things were best done with the lights turned off. Deep within sea fog and dense clouds, where no satellite could spot them, they could finish the job and walk away without leaving a single trace. Classy! *Hiss!* Minkler sucked in a sharp breath of cold air, his face pale. Understanding finally seemed to dawn on him, and he shook his head frantically. "No, that's impossible. How could my whereabouts—" His journey to the Federation had utilized secret channels that were absolutely trustworthy, and his face had been disguised. Unless it was someone who knew him intimately, no one could have recognized him. Even he himself hadn't known the departure time, location, or route until now—so how could word have leaked? "Oh, your whereabouts?" Ji Jue said placidly, "I leaked them." "What—" Minkler shouted in sheer shock, flipping up from the deck like a landed carp. He scrambled to his feet, nearly stomping a hole through the deck and plunging into the hold in his disbelief. Tears were genuinely about to spill over, brimful of grief and indignance. "Wait, brother, what are you after?!" *If you wanted money, just say so!* *I'll pay whatever you ask! Why did you sell me out?!* *Who else could match the price I'm willing to give you?!* "What's all this about what I'm after? Watch your tongue." Ji Jue continued calmly sipping the tea from his cup, asking in return, "Don't you chum the water before you go fishing? You've got to let me see what kind of big catch you can lure in, don't you?" He flicked his fingers, and Minkler's phone instantly lit up, displaying an image on the screen. A screenshot of the Wild Gathering app. Information regarding Minkler. It had been packaged into the Seven Cities column by the Wild Gathering as part of a bundle, though it could also be purchased separately. It had been sold seventeen times. More detailed intelligence and his specific movements had been put up individually and sold seven times. "In other words, the wave ahead might just be cannon fodder sent to scout the way," Ji Jue said slowly. "There are at least four or five factions along this route that want you dead. But here's the question." He paused. The smile on his face gradually faded, and he looked at Minkler without any expression. "No matter how I think about it, Old Ming, I just can't wrap my head around it. Why are so many people fixated on a sacrificial pawn like you who's doomed to die sooner or later anyway? "Do you have any clues?" *The situation's got me a little confused. Would you mind explaining to me what kind of mess we're actually in right now?* Minkler stood rigid, his face bloodless, his lips trembling without making a sound. Several times he opened his mouth to speak, only to stop short. He could offer explanations, of course—a hundred thousand reasons. He could come up with hundreds of different excuses and conjectures without even engaging his brain. Yet under the gaze of those calm eyes, the mass of tissue weighing less than two jin inside Minkler's skull—his brain, his very instincts—screamed at him that he had only one chance. He was free to say whatever he liked. Say the wrong thing, and he would die. So explain, Minkler. Explain it. *Wasn't this supposed to be a simple C-rank escort mission? Why would so many ninjas want a foul-mouthed old man who only knows how to build bridges dead? Because you build bridges exceptionally well, or because you drink too much liquor?!* Minkler's face was paper-white, his lips parting and closing. In the silence, no sound escaped him. "If you have something to say, you'd better say it now, Old Ming. It's better for you, and better for me." Seated in his chair with teacup in hand, Ji Jue looked down at his phone and told him, "You have one minute. Oh, fifty seconds left now." Minkler's expression twitched, and cold sweat began beading on his forehead. Ji Jue remained detached, reminding him once more, "Less than half a minute now." "..." Minkler panted heavily, his pupils dilating. A fierce struggle raged within his mind. His face flushed red, then turned an iron-gray, his ears filled only with the callous countdown. "Ten, nine, eight, seven—" He jerked his head up, looking at Ji Jue with pleading eyes. But Ji Jue didn't budge. Glancing at the feed on his screen, he remained as cold as ever, merely continuing to count: "Five, four, three, two—" Ji Jue sighed, shut off the screen, and shook his head in regret. "I'll talk!" In that split second, Minkler finally broke down completely, screaming in absolute collapse: "I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!" *Boom!* "—" The moment Ji Jue reached out, the sonic boom of an object tearing through the air arrived a beat late. Amidst the shrill, spreading screech, a wisp of iron gleam soundlessly appeared at Ji Jue's fingertips. An ultra-thin, handleless blade came to an abrupt halt in midair right before Minkler's forehead. Tearing through the sky, and freezing dead in its tracks. Only on the tip of the blade, inches from his eyes, a faint, heart-stopping crimson glow smoldered— A drop of cold sweat leaked silently from his forehead, landing on the tip of the blade and hissing as it vaporized. *Clatter.* The blade dropped to the deck. "Now, you can speak." Ji Jue withdrew his fingers and once again raised his cup to take a gentle sip. Paying no heed to the chilling murderous intent creeping through the fog, he told him, "You have thirty seconds at most."