Chapter 4545

Shiler and Deathstroke still climbed onto that massive cargo ship with some difficulty. The reason they had to climb up themselves was that the people on this ship were clearly not very friendly either. The goods inside the containers on this cargo ship could be used to compile a directory of contraband for any country in the world.

"It looks like you have some unrealistic expectations for this place." Deathstroke said while weaving between the containers. "Outsiders won't have a single ship here. That's both good news and bad news."

Shiler wrung out the hem of his jacket as much as he could. Clearly, this was bad news for him, because he had no waterproof armor and wasn't even wearing quick-dry clothing, which meant that every time he changed ships, jumped into the sea, and climbed back up, it would cause his body temperature to fluctuate.

"Do you have any more anti-inflammatory medicine?" Shiler asked.

"Clearly, you don't have a clear understanding of the potency of the medicine I use. That will last at least 16 hours." Deathstroke didn't look back; he was checking the markings on the containers, seemingly wanting to find one he was familiar with, or simply wanting to find some dangerous goods among the dangerous goods to cause some trouble.

"Not good." Shiler said. Because he could feel his body temperature rising again, and such drastic fluctuations in body temperature in a short period of time is not a good sign. This means that certain regulatory mechanisms are failing.

But actually, this is nothing. The fact that being in a bad state makes him perform better is, in some dangerous situations, completely a high-quality skill. But you have to know how to play your cards. The most troublesome problem now is that once the high fever affects his hearing system, which hasn't really recovered, he won't be able to hear anyone's voice—which means no one will be able to stop him.

In fact, for Shiler, any sense that can contact the outside world counts as interference, as a retarder and a brake, which can keep him from being driven by instinct and gradually return to sanity.

The language one can hear, especially the logic contained within the language, is a very important marker for distinguishing the boundary between the mental world and the real world. Once a person begins to understand the logic in language, it means they are regaining their sanity. Shiler is no exception.

And the negative effect brought by that broken gun can't even be called removing a brake pad; it's more like pulling out the handbrake directly. In this situation, stepping on the gas, how many people life won't let go of this time is just up to fate.

Relatively speaking, the agent is more stable. Between inflammation, low-grade fever, and deafness, if this were the Hunter, he would basically have started writing a thesis in his Death Note. But likewise, the higher the baseline for losing control, the harder it is to recover from it. From now on, he must concentrate his energy to ensure his physical condition remains above the passing line at all times.

Hearing Shiler's ambiguous answer, Deathstroke turned his head to look at him. Despite wearing a mask, Shiler could feel the confusion in Deathstroke's eyes. It was basically like saying: "How on earth did you become an agent?"

"I am a civilian staff member." Shiler answered very crisply.

"Heh. Even if you are a civilian staff member, you would never be the type to end up being sent to this place to die. I understand everyone has secrets, but in this situation, if we can't exchange information honestly..."

Fine, this cunning mercenary. Supplies for information, that's fair. Shiler thought for a moment and said, "The place I'm going to is Cairo, Egypt. We aren't far from there now."

Deathstroke hadn't taken it to heart, but he seemed to suddenly remember something and glanced at the revolver Shiler had been holding in his hand the whole time.

"I'm quite interested in your gun." He said bluntly, "If possible, can you give me the manufacturer's information?"

"Let's talk about that when I get to Cairo." Shiler said, "I mean, once I get to Cairo, I'll give you this broken gun."

Deathstroke raised an eyebrow: "I don't understand why you dislike this gun so much. Large caliber, sufficient power, the bullets seem to be able to automatically return; it's a quite violent and good weapon."

"It's still too advanced for humans." Shiler commented.

Deathstroke was noncommittal. They soon found a relatively familiar one among a pile of containers. It was a container from an Asian grain merchant, filled with flour.

And it just so happened that there was a blower for heat dissipation and ventilation nearby. Deathstroke didn't spend much effort creating an excellent occasion for a dust explosion. And in order to make a bigger commotion to attract people over, he took Shiler's revolver and fired a shot.

Bang!!!!!!

A few dozen seconds later, Deathstroke, who walked over, felt a bit hopeless. He even had to take off most of his mask to treat his bleeding ears. Shiler revealed a sincere smile, and he even had fewer complaints about Diana.

This revolver is like equipment in some games, with high stats in every category; the only problem is that there is a clause in the stats below that says "can only be activated by percentage health deduction," and it deals true damage that is unaffected by any defensive equipment or skills. Shiler decided to call it "Heracles," which is the Hercules in Greek mythology.

This name naturally contains these bad tastes, because among the Twelve Labors that Heracles experienced, there was the task of stealing the belt of the Amazon Queen Hippolyta, definitely one of the demigods Diana hates the most, to praise her bad luck for giving this gun such a shitty clause.

The power of a dust explosion is not to be underestimated. The container filled with flour was blown directly into pieces, and it also affected several surrounding containers. These smugglers clearly had no safety awareness; the fuller the cargo was stacked, the better, regardless of type or arrangement. Next to that pile of flour were ammunition boxes; the grenades didn't explode because their safety was high enough, but the batteries of some equipment caught fire.

By the time the people on the ship rushed up, the fire was completely out of control. Everyone knew there were grenades in there, and it was only a matter of time before they exploded, so no one dared to get close. And at this moment, with a "bang," one person fell to the ground, followed immediately by another gunshot.

"Sniper, there's a sniper!!!"

They were speaking the local language; Shiler couldn't understand it, nor could he read their lips, but he could roughly guess. Deathstroke didn't have a professional sniper rifle in his hand, but it was completely sufficient. He hit his targets precisely, never missing a shot, and with a few shots, he took down the four or five people who rushed up first.

"I'm going to hijack the ship." Shiler said.

Deathstroke was busy calling out names and just nodded. Shiler turned and walked toward the lower part of the ship's hull. The technicians on this kind of smuggling ship usually don't have any loyalty to speak of; a little threat and they will obey, he just needs to make them sail the ship to Egypt.

This time it finally worked, especially when Shiler blasted open the door to the security room with a shot; no one had any objections to his proposal. The cargo ship changed direction and headed toward the port in Egypt.

"Why not make them sail faster?" Deathstroke, covered in the scent of blood, poked half his body in.

"Can't sail too fast, the ships on the Red Sea aren't stupid. Seeing a cargo ship moving at maximum speed, they will definitely know it's been hijacked." Shiler is very cautious now. This place is now a large gladiatorial arena, perfectly conforming to the Dark Forest principle; not exposing oneself is the top priority.

"You are really strange." Deathstroke said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, "Sometimes very professional, but also looking not violent enough."

The time spent hijacking the cargo ship counts as garbage time, and there was nothing else to do. Shiler chatted with him, saying: "Do you think violence is a necessary quality for a law enforcement officer?"

"The idiots chasing me all think so."

"So they didn't catch up to you." Shiler said, "Anyone who wants to overwhelm you in terms of violence will realize they are dead wrong. Humans have no way to fight against a violent machine that has lost control. This is obvious."

"A novel description." Deathstroke smiled and said, "But you are right. All the bastards who dared to go head-to-head with me have gone to see Satan."

"This is the main reason I am cooperating with you." Shiler turned around to stare at the crew.

Deathstroke thought he was praising his strength, meaning that with a teammate like him, dealing with enemies wouldn't require much effort. But thinking about it carefully, that didn't seem quite right.

Shiler has indeed gotten into trouble, and it looks like the people chasing him have a significant background, very likely something like a shadow government. But at least they still have some scruples, seemingly wanting to capture him alive.

Deathstroke is different. The things he has provoked have completely abandoned all shame; as long as they can kill him, they will use any means necessary, and their methods are more than a little bit more violent. But even in this situation, Shiler is still willing to get mixed up with him, which has increased the difficulty of this journey by more than a little.

He doesn't seem like the kind of maniac who chases thrills. Deathstroke trusts his judgment. There must be some other reason. But it looks like their plan this time succeeded; as long as they can reach the shore, the world is their oyster, and he can only ask when they meet next time.

Soon, the port of Hurghada appeared on the skyline. After being able to see the city, Shiler also breathed a sigh of relief. The sea is really not his home turf. A ship is an isolated island at sea created by humans, and every ship is a society isolated from the world. Jumping between such isolated islands is more dangerous than walking in any land city. Fortunately, he had good luck and ran into a good teammate.

"Stay alert." Deathstroke said, "The people chasing you likely won't choose to cause trouble at the port, but the ones chasing me might not be so sure."

Shiler knows this final battle is unavoidable, but having a powerful teammate to escort him always comes at a price. Besides, Deathstroke will be wandering around this area for a while, which can provide help for his subsequent plans.

"Put down that cannon of yours." Deathstroke said, "We need to rush out at maximum speed; there's no time for you to aim. What cold weapons are you good at?"

"Exactly the opposite of you."

"What?"

"Meaning I'm not good at anything." Shiler looked out of the cockpit and said, "I'm afraid your deduction is wrong. The previous failures made them pin their hopes on the port checkpoint; the number of people is higher than expected."

Deathstroke narrowed his eyes; he walked directly out of the passageway to take a look outside. The other side clearly saw him too, but didn't dare to act rashly, obviously wanting to let them out before attacking.

Just from the angle Deathstroke could see, there were more than thirty guns outside, and more than half were standard-issue equipment with uniform paint. This made Deathstroke couldn't help but click his tongue.

"I really want to ask them what your bounty is." Deathstroke couldn't help but exclaim, "Looking at the situation, if I take you down, I can at least take a vacation for more than half a year."

Shiler stood at the cockpit door and grinned: "Do you think dealing with me would be easier than dealing with them?"

"Oh, you actually have a different opinion on this?" Deathstroke stared at him.

"You can just say you need my help." Shiler said, "Or in your words, 'Just don't hold me back'."

"Seriously, I don't hold any hope for that." Deathstroke said.

"Let me fire the first shot." Shiler looked at the door and said, "Then your biggest trouble won't be them anymore."