Axolotl Translations

“What do you mean, our propeller’s damaged? How did I miss that?” Zheng Yijie blurted the question the instant Liang Zhao hung up the radio.

Liang Zhao didn’t even glance his way, already switching the high-frequency channel to 22, relaying the situation to Heng Rong Sheng 2.

With his burning curiosity finding no outlet, Zheng Yijie turned to Gu Mengran, who shot him an exasperated glare. “Has your caution completely deserted you? You treated Brother Fang like a criminal, and now you’re just taking some stranger’s word for it?”

“Huh?” Zheng Yijie blinked, momentarily stunned. “You think he’s lying? No way. He sounded completely genuine. His explanation made sense, and he wasn’t pushy. Didn’t strike me as a con.”

The old man nodded in agreement, looking equally serious. “I was skeptical at first too. But think about it—they have boats, fuel. And even when they heard we were carrying mineral ore, they didn’t hesitate. They just asked for a little food and medicine. Doesn’t sound like a scam.”

“Of course, even if they’re telling the truth, I’m not stupid enough to just sail Windwing straight over there. At most, we send a small diesel boat with some supplies, show some goodwill, and get them to clear the way.”

Gu Mengran let out a sharp laugh, a mix of amusement and annoyance. He pointed at the floating bodies in the river ahead, his voice dropping to a serious tone. “You don’t see the corpses? In this heat, after a week in the water, you really think they’d still look like that?”

Zheng Yijie muttered under his breath, “I’m not a forensic expert, how should I know?”

The old man fell silent, smacking his lips thoughtfully before muttering, “You know… he’s got a point. That guy said the bodies have been there for at least seven days. But in this weather? A week in the water should have them completely decomposed. What are they after?”

Gu Mengran’s gaze lingered on the river before subtly shifting to Liang Zhao. “We don’t trust them, and they don’t believe we’re really carrying mineral ore. I mean, who in their right mind would still be transporting ore in times like these?”

Meng Gaoyang followed his gaze towards Liang Zhao, his eyes narrowing in realization. “So what’s Liang Zhao up to? Getting them to clear the water—was that just a setup? A trap? A distraction?”

Liang Zhao had made the decision on his own, so even Gu Mengran wasn’t entirely sure what he was thinking. But after hearing his last words, he had a rough idea.

Liang Zhao was still on the radio, talking to Xu Xingran. Unable to bear the old man’s piercingly curious gaze, Gu Mengran paused, then shared his theory. “It’s not some elaborate scheme. He just wants them to hand over the key and open a door.”

Meng Gaoyang mulled that over for a long moment before reacting. “A key? A door? You mean… by making them clear the waterway, he’s actually pushing them to untie their ropes and send out a ship?”

Gu Mengran nodded.

The old man’s frown deepened. “But what if they don’t send out a big ship? They could just use a diesel boat with a high-pressure water cannon. That’d be enough to clear the way.”

“No. They’ll definitely send out a large vessel.” Gu Mengran’s voice was firm. He turned to his grandfather and explained his reasoning. “If ‘waterpox’ has truly been contained, or if they were never infected, would they really risk getting close to these murky waters?”

“And if they are infected? In that case, they wouldn’t risk exposing themselves in an open diesel boat where we could easily observe them. Not when we’re still being cooperative and haven’t raised any suspicions. Their safest move is to send out a large ship.”

His analysis completely won over the old man. He looked at Liang Zhao with newfound respect, his mouth slightly agape in surprise. “Didn’t expect that from you, Xiao Liang. You’ve got quite the sharp mind.”

Just as he spoke, Liang Zhao set down the radio. When he looked up, he met the gazes of both the old man and Gu Mengran.

He had caught snippets of their conversation—especially Gu Mengran’s deduction and the old man’s praise.

But… Liang Zhao simply curved his lips into a faint smile and admitted, “Mengran’s guess was pretty close. The goal is to make them send out a ship—to create an opening in their blockade so we can find a chance to break through.”

“I wasn’t overthinking it—I’m taking a gamble. If it works, we get through quickly. If not, we force them to spread their forces. Either way, it’s a win.”

Zheng Yijie, who had been staring blankly out the window, snapped back to attention. He fixed his gaze on Liang Zhao. “So… from the start, you planned to force our way through?”

Liang Zhao nodded. “If we’re not heading to Lingjiang, then forcing our way through is the only option. We have no choice.”

“Come on!” Zheng Yijie still clung to a sliver of hope. “What if—just what if—they really only wanted supplies and would have let us pass? I’m not saying we should give them anything, but between a direct confrontation and handing over a few supplies for peaceful passage, the latter is clearly safer! Risking the Windwing is just—damn!”

Gu Mengran understood his concerns. If he could store both the Windwing and Heng Rong Sheng 2 in his spatial storage, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He’d rather move everything onto land than gamble with their ships.

But with hundreds of tons of diesel already taking up space, there wasn’t even room for a single Windwing, let alone both vessels. The only way to make space would be to transfer massive amounts of supplies onto the ship, and that would take time—time they didn’t have.

Reality was cruel.

Gu Mengran glanced at Zheng Yijie and mercilessly shattered his last illusion. “Stop kidding yourself. People who block waterways in times like these—do you think they’re good Samaritans? Their story doesn’t add up. The high-frequency channel isn’t just for decoration. If they can reach us, they could have easily reached ships coming from upstream. So why haven’t they?”

Zheng Yijie was speechless. His head drooped, disappointment etched on his face. He’d once been overly cynical, assuming the worst of people. Now he was being too naive, hoping for the best. No judgment at all. He was the kind of guy who’d end up getting tricked into buying bogus health supplements in his old age.

Ten minutes later, on the other side of the Lingjiang Bridge, the ships blocking the river finally loosened their mooring ropes. Then, from the center of the formation, a mid-to-large-sized bulk cargo ship slowly began to move forward, clearing a path ahead.

The scorching sun beat down on the open deck as two men emerged into the heat. They were completely covered—long sleeves, long pants, hats, and masks—leaving only their eyes visible. Even their hands were protected by rubber gloves.

The bulk cargo ship sailed steadily forward, its propellers churning at full speed. The swirling current sucked in rotting fish, decomposed shrimp, and bloated corpses floating on the river’s surface, grinding them to bits before spitting them back out as murky waste.

It was a brutally efficient way to clear the path—crushing everything in its wake. Only the larger corpses that refused to be dragged under were pushed aside by the two men on deck using high-pressure water hoses.

In just over ten minutes, a channel was carved through the silver-white waters of the Huang River. The surface rocked with gentle ripples, but the water remained thick and polluted, littered with indistinct black and white chunks of flesh.

The cargo ship remained cautious, clearing only seven or eight hundred meters of the thousand-meter route before stopping. It turned in place and idled in the middle of the river, maintaining a measured distance from the Windwing, the two vessels now facing each other across the murky expanse.

“——Zzzzz… Windwing, Windwing.”

The high-frequency radio crackled to life again. Liang Zhao immediately grabbed the receiver. “Copy, go ahead.”

It was the same voice from earlier, speaking in a direct, no-nonsense tone. “The waterway has been cleared. Start your engines, maintain a speed of four knots, and follow the Xiangyang.”

Before Liang Zhao could respond, a deep, resonant horn echoed across the river, sending ripples through the heavy air. “——Wooooo—”

Gripping the radio, Liang Zhao’s fingers tensed slightly. He took a deep breath and forced out a response. “Copy that.”

Plans had changed. The original agreement was for the clearing ship to continue ahead to the floating service station and wait for them there. But at the last minute, the other side suddenly changed course—now they wanted the Windwing to follow them instead.

Following the Xiangyang wouldn’t have been a problem in itself. After all, reaching the floating service station meant docking anyway, and the route wasn’t a straight shot. They could use the Xiangyang’s turns to accelerate and break free.

The real danger was if the other side had changed the “trading location” as well. If they were being led straight to the enemy’s base, the gap could be closed behind them in an instant, trapping the Windwing.

Of course, Gu Mengran wasn’t the only one who realized this. The already tense atmosphere on the bridge grew even heavier.

They had one shot at this. At this point, any attempt to negotiate would only raise suspicion.

Gu Mengran gritted his teeth, quickly gave his grandfather a few instructions, then pulled three hazmat suits and three wired earpieces from his storage space.

The horn sounded again, and the lead vessel began to move forward at a slow, steady pace.

Grandpa Meng, now in the captain’s chair, took over control from Liang Zhao. He maneuvered the Windwing in silence, maintaining a measured, deliberate pace as they followed.

Simultaneously, Gu Mengran, Liang Zhao, and Zheng Yijie quickly secured their earpieces, connecting them to their internal radios. Over their clothes, they donned fully enclosed chemical protective suits, adding thick protective face shields for extra security.

Once geared up, the three of them hurried to the lower deck, stopping at the door leading to the main deck, waiting in silence.

Above them, the three engines roared in unison, the deep hum echoing over the Huang River.

Three ships, one in front, two trailing behind—each maintaining a safe yet deliberate distance—moved in a delicate formation, inching toward the Lingjiang Bridge.

Breaking the stalemate required both courage and precise timing.

The moment the Xiangyang’s bow passed beneath the broken bridge, the Windwing, which had been moving sluggishly, suddenly lurched into action. It turned sharply, accelerating in one fluid motion, shifting from a straight course to a sideways lunge—like a runaway truck veering out of control—barreling at full speed toward the shore.

The observers on the Xiangyang barely had time to react before the Windwing swerved again—just as it was about to slam into the bank, it rebounded with a violent jolt, kicking up a massive surge of water as it scraped past the muddy shoreline and charged forward.

The lead ship had been outmaneuvered.

Chaos erupted aboard the Xiangyang. The crew scrambled to steer back on course, trying to block the escape, but before they could adjust, the Heng Rong Sheng 2 pulled off the exact same maneuver, slipping past like a slick eel and overtaking the Xiangyang.

“Shit! Those sneaky bastards—they figured it out!”

“Catch them! Don’t let them escape!”

“We finally got these fat lambs in our hands, and now you idiots are letting them run? Get after them! NOW!”

The Xiangyang’s bridge descended into chaos. Four or five men yelled at the pilot, their eyes locked on the front windshield, their expressions twisted with rage and desperation.

But one man stood apart.

Leaning casually beside the helm, he seemed utterly unfazed. Unhurriedly, he tuned the high-frequency radio, then picked up the transmitter.

His voice was calm, almost lazy. “The fish are in the net. Get ready to reel them in.”

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