South America, Caribbean Sea.
Zhou Xu leaned against the cabin wall, exhausted, and it took him a while to recover.
Pei Ye sat at the bow, vigilantly watching his surroundings, clutching his sniper rifle tightly in his hand.
As for their boss, Zhao Lang, he sat stern-faced at the stern, tapping away at his phone.
Zhou Xu opened his water bottle, carefully sipped what little freshwater remained, and let out a long sigh.
"Damn it, we've been chased by those pirates for three days and nights now. When the hell can we escape this wretched place!"
Pei Ye glanced at him and said coolly, "Complain less and conserve your energy. The person we're rendezvousing with arrives tomorrow night, and then we'll have another tough fight."
Zhou Xu let out an anguished cry before looking over at Zhao Lang.
After a week drifting at sea, he was burnt to a crisp, resembling a stinky, pitch-black salted fish.
