Chapter 28: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Killing the soldiers in front of him with a single blow didn't mean Bai Lang and the crew were out of danger—these soldiers weren't some rag‑tag militia; they each dispersed, naturally forming a formation where they could cover each other, and crucially, they kept their distance such that a single grenade couldn't take them all out. That slowed Bai Lang's killing speed just a bit—maybe a few tenths of a second wouldn't be enough for them to react, but a full second was definitely enough for them to respond.

Fortunately, Bai Lang let out a shout; as a result, even if they had time to react, they were now dazed and unable to move, giving Bai Lang a final chance. He finally disengaged the safety and fired a burst—because a rear‑centered, stock‑less gun is easier to control, combined with Bai Lang's great arm strength and bodily control, so aside from the first round, which was a test shot, the rest of his bullets struck every living soldier on the spot with great accuracy.

It happened to be a roughly semicircular arc; the bullets went out about halfway. All the soldiers lay on the ground twitching—basically the death throes—and Bai Lang, who had controlled the point of impact, still shot quite accurately. 'Killing is still fastest with a gun... martial arts have become obsolete.' Bai Lang stated a fact: given his current martial skill, at this range using a gun is indeed the most efficient way to kill—he can manage the recoil, and his training has given him sharp hearing and eyesight and bodily coordination, which isn't that just the ideal soldier template......

Moreover, the Vajra Shield added tremendous strength and made his muscles and bones as tough as a regular bulletproof vest...... Thinking this, Bai Lang also shook his head, 'I originally wanted to master a set of martial arts, but I ended up mastering a "hidden weapons" skill instead... Well, it's fine this way.' However, the ship's captain and crew were terrified; although they made a living on this river and had heard of such things before, seeing a few people killed right before their eyes was still extremely frightening.

The chief mate didn't even know what to say; those soldiers were indeed threatening him, demanding he transport some cargo upstream to another vessel. The situation really did seem dangerous, but according to the chief mate's experience, paying a little money should have made them back off and find another boat to work for—who could have guessed that this passenger would suddenly erupt in violence, killing them so swiftly and cleanly?

The captain wanted to curse, and the chief mate wanted to as well, but they didn't dare—the chief mate was up close while the captain, looking down from above, could see clearly that this passenger truly possessed the kind of martial arts seen in TV dramas and movies: tearing a man's chest ribs was as easy as peeling an orange, and kicking apart a skull was like kicking tofu. Moreover, that tiger roar still rang in both their ears. To make matters worse, this violent man still had a gun in his hand......

Bai Lang also realized the situation was now up to him to control—'Don't just stand there; hose down the deck with the water cannon, toss the corpses into the water, ditch the guns, and then we'll get moving. Don't be afraid; keep on your course, I'll disembark when we reach our destination—you can call the police, but I suggest reporting to the homeland's authorities instead. The people here aren't trustworthy.' He casually kicked a corpse into the water and, in the same motion, threw his gun after it, signaling the crew to spring into action.

Bai Lang wasn't afraid of them having guns—their footing was unsteady, so even if they played with firearms they couldn't aim at him. Moreover, they were frightened; as soon as Bai Lang spoke, they sprang into action. The soldiers' corpses were thrown into the river; the Mekong River's catfish would help gnaw them beyond recognition, and then all the weapons were also tossed into the water—these items are trouble, and if discovered they'd cause a major incident. As for the soldiers' speedboat, the helmsman died at his post, and Bai Lang stomped a foot, shattering the hull and breaking the keel; river water rushed in rapidly, and the speedboat began to sink.

The ship set off again, and Bai Lang knew he probably couldn't stay aboard much longer, but for now he couldn't leave. 'At least we'll talk after we reach Myanmar, and if possible, I might be able to get hold of a speedboat.'

The situation was much the same: the atmosphere on board was tense, and everyone feared Bai Lang, who killed as casually as eating and drinking—even if his victims were Thai soldiers. There was no helping it; if they had previously been indifferent, after seeing Bai Lang kill, looking at him now was like looking at a human‑shaped tiger. Bai Lang cultivated the Tiger Form True Meaning; at this moment he was also armed and his killing intent arose spontaneously. His mastery over his own mind had not yet reached flawless perfection, so at times a hint of killing intent would leak out—making him all the more frightening.

Fortunately, not long after, before the crew went mad from fear— they didn't even dare call the police, even though Bai Lang had told them to do so, for fear that this tiger‑like man might go back on his word and kill whoever reported it— before they lost their minds, members of a Myanmar drug‑trafficking syndicate appeared— compared with the Thai military‑police, these Burmese were mostly a private armed group, far inferior in equipment and skill to those Thai soldiers.

They appeared to be holding Type 56 rifles, approaching in a speedboat near the Yuhua 3; Bai Lang didn't step forward but half‑crouched behind the gunwale to observe. He carefully sized up the people on the speedboat, then suddenly shouted, 'Everyone back into the cabin! Get down! These people are about to attack!'

Sure enough, the Burmese militants on the speedboat raised their weapons and began spraying the Yuhua 3 with gunfire; thanks to Bai Lang's shout, basically everyone hit the deck in a flash. However, the freighter's hull offered about as much resistance to 5.56mm rounds as paper—it couldn't stop the spraying. Only because the attackers' elevation limited their line of sight have they, so far, fortunately not hit anyone.

Bai Lang had no way to seize their weapons; frankly, he regretted throwing those rifles away too soon. Using his Lightness Skill and reflexes, he dodged the barrels' aim, darting swiftly across the deck as he tried to close in on the speedboat. 'An aerial strike isn't realistic; it's better to go underwater and attack from there—luckily I can swim. And I recall an episode of MythBusters that tested shooting bullets at the water surface; it seems that at a depth of about two meters, most rifle and machine‑gun rounds actually lose their lethal power.'

Bai Lang jumped into the water from the other side and darted down deep—he couldn't go around the bow, as he'd be struck by the ship; the Yuhua 3 doesn't stop, nor would going astern waste time, so he went straight under the keel. His breath held out, enabling him to stay underwater for a stretch.