Chapter 17: Centrifugal Force

“Dazi!” With Zhong Yuan’s sharp call, he and Zhong Da moved almost simultaneously.

Zhong Da took a swift step to the left. Before his foot even touched the ground, his hand shot out, grabbing the barrel of the old-fashioned rifle held by the nearest man, yanking it hard backward. At the same time, his body twisted sideways, catching the man as he closed in, his right hand grabbing the man’s collar and pulling him back.

Behind them was a railing.

The man was pulled backward straight into the railing. Before anyone else could react, half his body was thrown over the railing. A sharp, agonized scream echoed as he slid down the edge of the speedboat, crashing into the water with a loud splash. The old rifle fell into Zhong Da’s hands.

Meanwhile, Zhong Yuan’s movements were even quicker.

He launched forward with a flying kick that sent one man flying. Before landing, he used the momentum to pivot and drive his knee into another man’s chest.

Neither had time to react before two of them had already fallen.

As Zhong Yuan landed, he charged forward again, slapping away the muzzle of a gun aimed at him. With his other hand, he grabbed the gunman’s wrist and twisted it backward. A painful scream followed, and the gun was torn from the man’s grasp and into Zhong Yuan’s hands.

Everything happened so fast that even the man in charge couldn’t react in time. By the time his gun was aimed at Zhong Yuan, Zhong Yuan had already seized the weapon and pressed its muzzle against the temple of the man standing before him.

The brewing turmoil suddenly fell silent.

The man in front of Zhong Yuan held his breath, face pale, eyes desperately fixed on his leader not far away, full of silent pleading.

Zhong Da stood beside Xiaohua, holding the newly seized old rifle, his expression calm but edged with cold ruthlessness. Xiaohua, however, held a man firmly with one hand, while the other gripped the butterfly knife Zhong Yuan had given him. The sharp tip had already pierced the skin of the man’s neck, blood silently seeping out.

“Zhong Yuan, even if you’ve captured my men, it’s useless. No matter what, none of you will escape today!” The leader’s face darkened as he spoke.

He had anticipated that the two brothers might be skilled fighters, which was why he brought so many men and weapons to trap them. But judging by the recent scene, he had clearly underestimated their strength.

Now, out at sea, these men had nowhere to run. Though a fight would cost him dearly, none of them would leave alive.

With this thought, the man’s gaze toward Zhong Yuan grew more confident.

But Zhong Yuan ignored him, instead turning to Xiaohua and instructing quietly, “Tell them if they release our people now, everything can still be negotiated. But if they insist on making this difficult, we don’t mind fighting it out. In the end, who will survive—maybe just one or two—is anyone’s guess.”

The leader heard and understood the words clearly. Most of his dozen or so men, however, couldn’t understand Mandarin. Zhong Yuan had Xiaohua translate to ensure everyone comprehended.

They held two hostages. If the man refused to negotiate and insisted on fighting, he would be risking his men’s lives. Zhong Yuan wasn’t sure how society operated in southern Thailand, but human nature was universal: few want to die if they can survive.

Xiaohua’s Thai was excellent, and after a rapid exchange, he made the message clear.

The leader glanced at Xiaohua with surprise before scowling darkly at Zhong Yuan.

After a moment, he spoke in Thai, “I already said, as long as you hand over Tanwei unharmed, I won’t trouble you. So…”

Zhong Yuan interrupted before he finished, “Have your men bring out my people, or don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

Without waiting, Xiaohua translated into Thai.

At the same time, Xiaohua pressed the butterfly knife deeper into the hostage’s neck.

The man couldn’t help but cry out, “Brother Ma, save me!”

“Brother Ma” was the leader himself, who frowned deeply, his face darkening further.

A few seconds later, the leader signaled someone.

Soon, the noise inside the cabin stopped, and Dongcuo was dragged out.

Only minutes had passed, but Dongcuo’s mouth was bloodied, one eye swollen shut, unable to stand on his own. Their men supported him as they brought him forward.

Zhong Yuan cast a glance, then withdrew his gaze. Dongcuo’s injuries were unsurprising. Since the enemy sought to use him as leverage, they wouldn’t hold back. Dongcuo had lost many parts already, considered restrained by their standards.

Earlier, Zhong Yuan hadn’t stopped them from taking Dongcuo because, under the current circumstances, they had little advantage to gain from resistance.

Zhong Yuan wanted all of them to survive if possible; whether they emerged unscathed was no longer his concern.

Yet, often, excessive rationality equaled coldness.

He could be cold, but Xiaohua and Dongcuo were Zhong Da’s men. His indifference could not cause them to lose faith in Zhong Da.

Zhong Da frowned, worry etched deeply as he called out, “Dongzi!”

Dongcuo hung his head, unresponsive.

But Zhong Yuan noticed the hands holding him trembled slightly before relaxing.

It seemed his heart was finally breaking away.

Zhong Yuan’s feelings were complicated.

“The hostages are here. Now, tell me—where is Tanwei?” Brother Ma demanded, dragging Dongcuo beside him.

He pinched Dongcuo’s face, lifting it to glare before releasing it.

Zhong Da looked at Zhong Yuan, emotions churning: worry, anxiety, regret.

They could never reveal Tanwei’s whereabouts; if they did, the enemy would never let them go.

But if they kept silent, the enemy wouldn’t release them either.

“We truly don’t know where Tanwei is…” Zhong Yuan began, but Brother Ma frowned and raised his gun to Dongcuo’s head. Zhong Yuan raised his voice sharply, “Brother Ma, what’s the rush? Hear me out first!”

Brother Ma narrowed his eyes, expression grim. “Fine. I’ll give you one more chance. Speak.”

“We don’t know where Tanwei is, but I do know someone who does,” Zhong Yuan said.

Brother Ma stared suspiciously for a moment, then asked, “Who?”

“Old Pu,” Zhong Yuan replied.

Brother Ma paused, then sneered coldly, “Zhong Yuan, do you take me for a fool?”