Axolotl Translations

The moment Zhou Jing grabbed the steel pipe and the pair of folding knives, a grim realization settled over Gu Mengran—a serious confrontation today was unavoidable. What truly surprised him, however, was how the initially conceived, meticulously planned high-stakes strategy had abruptly devolved into something so direct and seemingly reckless.

After all, their numbers were meager, fewer than twenty. A direct assault would be nothing short of suicide. Their revised approach? To infiltrate the guest quarters, one room at a time, silently unlocking doors, coordinating with the villagers inside to neutralize individual crew members, and gradually transforming prisoners into allies. A slow, deliberate chipping away at the enemy’s strength, while simultaneously bolstering their own.

Their small team of twenty was merely the initial spark. Whether they could ultimately wrest control of the ship from Dong Hongbo hinged entirely on whether the captive villagers could unite and fight back alongside them.

Back on land, there had been no opportunity for proper communication. Most villagers remained blissfully unaware of the true situation—many were even caught up in the naive excitement of “moving to a new home.” Living in close proximity to the crew under such false pretenses was dangerously foolish.

Just contemplating the villagers’ ignorance sent a fresh wave of anger through Xiao Dong. He shot a venomous glare at Zhou Zhiqing and snapped, “You’ve really got it all figured out, haven’t you? Not enough manpower, so you brainwashed the whole village, tricked them onto this ship, and now you expect them to be your backup?”

“Calm down, Xiao Dong,” Zhou Zhiqing said, rubbing his temples in evident frustration. “They were getting on this ship whether I talked them into it or not. These people—Dong’s people—they had more than enough ways to make it happen. I simply chose the least agonizing path.”

Xiao Dong scoffed derisively. “Least agonizing? And what about their safety? You threw them in with a pack of monsters who’d devour them without a second thought. You really think your conscience is clean after all this?”

“No destruction, no rebirth,” Zhou Zhiqing murmured quietly, his gaze fixed on the endless expanse of grey sky visible through the window. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “This world is brutal. Survival of the fittest. The weak simply don’t get to choose.”

Xiao Dong’s body stiffened with indignation. “What the hell kind of excuse is that—”

“Alright, Brother Dong, that’s enough. We’re wasting precious time. Let’s go.” Zhou Jing interjected, effectively cutting off the escalating argument. He crouched low and slipped silently through the now-open window.

Gu Mengran followed immediately behind him, stepping into the unknown. Seeing them move, Xiao Dong’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek, before he finally moved to follow. But after only a few hesitant steps, he stopped abruptly and looked back at Zhou Zhiqing, his eyes cold and accusatory.

“You’re not coming?” he asked, his voice laced with disdain. “Just gonna sit here and wait?”

“Some people haven’t arrived yet. I’m waiting here to back them up. You guys go ahead—stay safe,” Zhou Zhiqing said calmly, his tone even.

Xiao Dong’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “What about the others? Didn’t you say there were over a dozen more?”

“They’re already out there. The operation’s started.”

Without another word, Xiao Dong turned and stalked away, his back rigid with unspoken accusations, completely oblivious to the complex, unreadable look that flickered in Zhou Zhiqing’s eyes.

Unlike Zhou Jing’s cramped room, this suite offered a few luxuries—windows, and a narrow balcony. Climbing over the left railing led directly to the second-floor open deck—their only viable escape route from this floating prison.

A steady drizzle slicked the metal surfaces as the three of them carefully clambered over the wet railing, each movement a calculated risk of slipping and being plunged into the unforgiving sea below. Balancing precariously on the narrow edge, they edged forward along the outside deck.

Zhou Jing took the lead, his movements displaying a quiet confidence that suggested a familiarity with the ship’s layout. After traversing about thirty or forty tense meters, he stopped before a white hatch door that blended almost seamlessly into the ship’s exterior. Reaching into his pocket with practiced ease, he produced a key and unlocked it.

Inside, they found a small, utilitarian storage room. Fresh, damp footprints that hadn’t yet dried indicated that someone had been there recently. Across the confined space was another door, this one likely providing access to the guest cabins within the ship.

Once inside, Zhou Jing quietly shut the hatch door behind them, quickly moving to a shelf cluttered with various cleaning supplies. He rummaged through the items for a few brief seconds before extracting a large pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

He wordlessly handed the cutters to Xiao Dong, then led the other two towards the inner door. Before turning the handle, he paused and delivered a quiet, concise briefing.

“This leads directly into the dining hall. We’ll stick to the right side. There might be patrols outside—if you spot anyone, don’t hesitate. Take them down. Everyone out there knows—”

He paused, his gaze shifting to Gu Mengran, a questioning brow raised. “You cover the rear. Use your best judgment. Our people are mixed in with them—be absolutely certain you don’t hit one of us by mistake.”

“Got it.” Gu Mengran nodded, his expression earnest and focused.

They were as ready as they could be. They had waited for this day, this opportunity, for what felt like an eternity. Still, as Zhou Jing’s hand reached for the cold metal of the door handle, a fleeting flicker of nervousness betrayed his otherwise composed demeanor.

This was it. The pivotal moment. Their gamble. If they failed to seize control of the cruise ship now, a watery grave awaited them all.

Zhou Jing held little regard for his own life—in his estimation, it was already forfeit. But the innocent villagers…

“There’s no turning back now,” he muttered, a grim resolve hardening his features.

A gentle tap landed on his shoulder, breaking his dark thoughts. Zhou Jing turned to find Gu Mengran looking at him, his gaze steady and unwavering, a silent reassurance.

No turning back. Settle your scores. Get your revenge.

Click. The door yielded.

Just as they had anticipated, the utility room hadn’t been locked. The three figures who had just slipped out of the guest cabin area now walked boldly right back in, their movements purposeful.

Silence. An unsettling absence of life. No one in sight. No sound to break the heavy stillness. The elegant dining tables were coated in a thick layer of undisturbed dust, lending the entire space an eerie, abandoned quality.

Zhou Jing and Gu Mengran both flicked open their folding knives, the sharp metallic clicks echoing softly in the silence, while Xiao Dong raised the heavy bolt cutters to his chest, his eyes darting around the vast room, every sense on high alert.

The restaurant was conveniently located not far from the guest rooms. In a mere three tense minutes, they reached a narrow hallway and halted before a nondescript door secured with a sturdy padlock.

They didn’t rush the entry. Zhou Jing leaned in close, his eyes meticulously examining the faint, almost imperceptible glue residue left behind by a hastily ripped-off room number—checking, confirming their target.

Less than thirty seconds ticked by before a small, confident smile tugged at the corner of Zhou Jing’s lips. Certainty radiated from him.

“Alright, hand me the bolt cu—”

“Watch out!”

Without any warning whatsoever, the locked door burst violently inward from the other side. None of them even caught a fleeting glimpse of who was behind it before a jagged, curved blade was suddenly pressed against Zhou Jing’s throat.

The cold steel grazed his skin, a chillingly intimate sensation. Zhou Jing instinctively swallowed hard, but his body remained perfectly still, frozen in place. He couldn’t even make out the figure wielding the weapon behind him—he simply froze, not daring to move even an inch.

The sheer shock of the sudden attack had Gu Mengran and Xiao Dong both raising their weapons, poised to strike and defend their comrade—until, from behind Zhou Jing’s still form, the person holding the wickedly sharp sickle slowly stepped fully into the dim light filtering from the hallway.

And revealed a face that was undeniably familiar.

“Uncle Liu?!”

The name burst from Xiao Dong’s lips, the heavy bolt cutters suspended uselessly in mid-air. The older man wielding the sickle froze for a split second, a flicker of utter confusion flashing across his weathered face as his eyes darted from one stunned face to another.

“Xiao Dong? Xiao Gu?”

The two faces staring back at him were undeniably familiar. So, the chilling question hung in the air: who was the unlucky soul he had just held at knifepoint?

Uncle Liu seemed to snap back to reality as if jolted awake from a deep sleep. With a muttered exclamation, he swiftly retracted the sickle and stepped to the side, his eyes widening as he finally got a clear look at the person he had nearly sliced open.

The moment his gaze landed on Zhou Jing, his weathered face darkened considerably. For a tense second, it looked as though he might raise the sickle once more—but before he could act on the impulse, Xiao Dong, still reeling from the shock and confusion, finally snapped out of his daze and pointed at the door hinge, which was hanging precariously loose.

“What happened, Uncle Liu? Wasn’t the door locked? Are you seriously strong enough to rip off the hinges just like that?”

“Oh, that?” Uncle Liu turned back towards the damaged door and offered them a quick, almost nonchalant demonstration. He gently pulled the door shut, then deftly pushed the hinge screws back into their stripped holes, making it appear as if the door had never been forced open.

“We unscrewed them ahead of time. Just pushed ‘em back in so it looks fine at a glance.”

Door hinges, he explained, were somewhat like chain locks—even when the door was locked from the outside, it still left a small but crucial gap. Just enough space to slip an arm through and manipulate the lock.

Clearly, this simple yet effective trick hadn’t occurred to Xiao Dong. He was about to pepper Uncle Liu with more questions, but Gu Mengran, ever the pragmatist, beat him to it, his gaze fixed on the menacing sickle still clutched in the older man’s hand.

“Uncle Liu, what in the world is going on? Why did you suddenly burst through the door like that—and why are you holding a sickle like you’re about to harvest wheat?”

Before Uncle Liu could offer an explanation, two more doors nearby creaked open. The same aunties who had engaged in a heated argument with Xiao Dong back in the village shuffled out nervously, each one clutching a makeshift weapon—a heavy meat cleaver in one hand, a sharp chopping knife in the other…

Everyone stood frozen for a moment, staring at each other with wide, stunned eyes, clearly grappling with the unexpected turn of events and unsure of the unfolding situation.

But this was no time for bewildered pleasantries. They quickly regrouped in the narrow hallway, exchanging a few hushed words and hurried explanations, and Gu Mengran finally began to piece the fragmented information together, the bigger picture slowly coming into focus.

It turned out that Xiao Dong’s earlier claims hadn’t been mere exaggeration after all. Sister Fang had indeed made the resolute decision to fight back against their captors, and she had managed to rally a significant number of the villagers to her cause.

She must have shrewdly realized that there was no way to avoid getting on the ship—and that this journey could very well be a one-way trip to their doom. So, the night before their forced departure, she had secretly gathered the others and devised a daring plan: feign cooperation, pretend to turn on their own, board the ship quietly and without resistance, and lull the unsuspecting crew into a false sense of security, causing them to lower their guard.

Remarkably, the risky gambit had worked flawlessly. Tons of essential supplies were loaded onto the ship without any suspicion. The crew, believing they had successfully broken the villagers’ will, readily accepted their apparent “surrender” and even turned a blind eye to the villagers’ personal belongings.

And that was how they had managed to cleverly smuggle in all sorts of seemingly innocuous tools, essential gear, and even farming equipment—items that, in this desperate new reality, had become the unexpected weapons of their burgeoning rebellion.

As Uncle Liu continued his explanation, a weary sigh escaped his lips.

“Xiao Fang, bless her sharp mind, she saw right through those people. Said they’d never treat us with any decency. Figured once we were on board, they’d probably lock us up like animals. We thought maybe they’d keep us all together, so if push came to shove, we could at least try to fight our way out with kitchen knives or whatever we could get our hands on—but wouldn’t you know it, they split us all up.”

“No kidding,” Aunt Wu chimed in, her voice tinged with lingering anger. “Everyone who came up together from the village got separated and shoved into different rooms. Lucky for my old bones, I ended up in the same cabin as Sister Wang here—if I’d been alone with those two brutes, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Sister Wang offered a soft, almost sheepish chuckle. “We really owe Old Liu a debt of gratitude. If he hadn’t heard the commotion and come to unlock the door for us, we’d probably still be stuck inside, nursing our bruises.”

They spoke with a surprising lightness, considering the circumstances, but Xiao Dong’s heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t help but voice the question that was gnawing at him. “Wait a minute… the people in the rooms with you… you actually fought them? Like… physically fought them?”

“Of course, we fought them!” Aunt Wu snapped, her eyes suddenly blazing with fierce determination. “Xiao Fang herself said it—kindness to the enemy is cruelty to yourself. Or something along those lines. Whatever! Doesn’t matter the exact words, they’re all scum. They deserved every bit of it!”

The uncles and aunties around them looked surprisingly calm, their expressions resolute, and none of their makeshift weapons bore any visible traces of blood. Xiao Dong felt a sliver of reassurance, but a knot of unease still tightened in his stomach. He cautiously opened Uncle Liu’s door and peered inside—sure enough, a man was tied up tightly on the floor, trussed like a holiday roast, a foul-looking sock stuffed unceremoniously into his mouth.

The scenes in the two rooms next door were similar—crew members had been effectively subdued and restrained, but thankfully, no one had been killed.

This left Xiao Dong with a confusing mix of emotions. Logically, he knew they shouldn’t be showing any mercy right now. Leaving enemies alive, even bound and gagged, could very well come back to haunt them with deadly consequences. But even he couldn’t bring himself to suggest going that far—how could he possibly expect these older, gentler villagers to commit such an act?

With most of the villagers still locked away in their cabins, they knew they couldn’t afford to waste any more precious time. Once the older folks fully grasped the essence of Zhou Jing’s hastily formulated plan, they didn’t hesitate for a moment. They jumped in immediately, their initial shock replaced by a steely resolve—the impromptu rescue mission was officially underway.

Simple as the core idea sounded, putting it into effective action was proving to be a different, more daunting story.

Looking down the seemingly endless rows of identical cabin doors lining the narrow hallway, Aunt Wu’s earlier nerves resurfaced. She let out a long, worried sigh. “Who knows where everyone is? We’re going to have to check each and every room, one by painstaking one.”

Just then, Zhou Jing, who had been deliberately keeping a low profile, offered a confident, almost smug grin that hinted at a hidden advantage.

“Relax, Aunt Wu. We marked the doors ahead of time—any room that could potentially house villagers, especially those with fewer than four occupants, has a little tell-tale sign on it. Look closely for faint adhesive marks—there’s a small, almost invisible triangle. Those are the rooms we’re after.”

“No way! That’s actually genius,” Gu Mengran exclaimed, giving Zhou Jing a genuine thumbs-up of impressed approval.

The older villagers didn’t voice their relief, but the visible tension that had been etched on their faces visibly eased.

Everything was falling into place, piece by precarious piece—they simply needed to seize the opportune moment.

Zhou Jing stepped forward, raising a hand to command attention, and declared with a newfound authority,

“Alright everyone, let’s move!”

That rainy afternoon, the deceptive calm that had settled over the cruise ship docked at their unsuspecting village abruptly shattered, plunging into utter chaos.

One by one, the cabin doors swung inward, revealing determined faces. More and more villagers, armed with their unexpected arsenal, gathered together in the narrow hallways, and the long-suppressed horn of rebellion officially blared its defiant call.

There’s a calculated way to navigate compromise—and a brutal way to confront violence. Dong Hongbo, in his arrogance, believed he held more than just one advantage up his sleeve. But his overconfidence, his unwavering belief in his own absolute control, had blinded him. He genuinely thought a mere flick of his wrist could subdue the entire village.

Now, he was about to pay a steep and bloody price for that fatal miscalculation.

---

Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter