Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

The middle-aged man's lips twitched slightly, as if he were smiling, or perhaps mocking. "Paying money is buying a ticket, a ticket... to enter the next cage."

He paused, as if gathering his strength or carefully choosing his words: "Once we reach the shore, what awaits us may not be freedom, but rather... 'snake hunters'."

"A snake catcher?"

The man frowned and repeated, clearly not having heard of the word before.

"A gang composed of local thugs on Hong Kong Island,"

The middle-aged man explained, his tone still calm, as if he were recounting an anecdote unrelated to himself.

"They specifically wait at docks and remote beaches where illegal immigrants might land, to catch 'human smugglers' like us. That's why it's called 'catching snakes'."

"Why are you arresting us?"

The woman's voice rose slightly, tinged with confusion and a hint of fear, "We didn't provoke them! We just want to find a way to survive!"

"Of course it's for the money."

The middle-aged man looked at her; his eyes, which appeared unusually deep in the darkness, held no emotion.

"They want everything you have—clothes, shoes, even a rag. It's a 'gift'."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the woman's heaving chest and then over the man's gaunt face, gaunt from malnutrition: "Then, they'll ask you if you have any relatives, friends, or fellow countrymen in Hong Kong. If you do, they'll force you to write letters and make phone calls demanding ransom. If the money isn't enough, or if they don't come on time, then..."

He deliberately left the conversation abruptly, but that deliberate pause was more chilling than any straightforward description.

The woman's face turned deathly pale, her lips trembling as she stammered, "I...I have no relatives in Hong Kong! Not a single one!"

"Oh?"

The middle-aged man seemed to have expected this. He sized her up, his gaze more like assessing the value of a commodity than looking at a person. "If you don't have relatives and can't pay the ransom... the younger, more attractive women will be sold to Southeast Asia—Siam, Annam, Cambodia—to become prostitutes. The older ones, or the less attractive ones, might just be thrown into the sea, or... worse."

He turned to the men: "As for the men... the physically strong ones will be sent to illegal clinics and blood banks to be 'blood cows,' drawing blood until they faint, until they are completely exhausted. The weaker ones, or the disobedient ones, may just 'disappear,' who knows if they'll be used to fill foundations or be fed to fish."

With each word he spoke, the couple's faces grew paler, until finally they were almost deathly pale.

The man's arms, which had been holding the "spoils of war," fell limply to his sides. The tattered clothes and leftover food now felt like red-hot irons, burning him so much that he almost wanted to throw them away immediately. The woman trembled all over, tears welling up silently, but she didn't even dare to cry out loud.

Inside the cabin, a silence even deeper and more desperate than before fell.

Only the ceaseless roar of the cargo ship's main engine and the creaking of the ship's hull sounded like a monotonous and cruel requiem for those going to their deaths.

Chen Feng remained leaning against the corner, listening quietly. His gun had been serviced, and he was now with his eyes closed, as if resting or digesting the information in the middle-aged man's words.

Snake catcher.

Extortion, trafficking, and extracting the last remaining value.

This was not unexpected for him.

It was even more "conventional" than he had imagined.

At least there's a process, a way to extract value.

This shows that in places like Hong Kong Island, even the most lowly crime like "snake hunting" has formed a kind of "industrial chain" with its own "rules".

Where there are rules, there are loopholes, and there are places that can be exploited.

What we fear is, on the contrary, the utter chaos and violence that are devoid of any rules.

He needs more information.

Chen Feng slowly opened his eyes, and for the first time, his gaze was formally fixed on the middle-aged man.

"You seem to know a lot about this."

Chen Feng spoke, his voice calm and devoid of emotion.

The middle-aged man seemed to have anticipated Chen Feng's question. He slowly turned his head, his deep eyes meeting Chen Feng's calm gaze in the darkness.

"I've run it a few times."

The middle-aged man briefly explained why he was still alive after "running through several times": "I've seen it, I've heard it."

"How do I dodge? Or... how do I deal with it?"

Chen Feng asked a more direct question.

He didn't ask "Is it true?" because that was meaningless. What he needed was a solution.

The middle-aged man paused for a moment, seemingly weighing something.

His gaze swept over the gun handle at Chen Feng's waist, its outline still faintly discernible despite being concealed by his work clothes, then over the heavy tool bag at his feet, and finally settled on his eyes, which shone brightly even in absolute darkness.

"Hiding is difficult."

The middle-aged man slowly shook his head.

"They outnumber you, know the terrain well, and have informants. Unless you can disappear immediately upon landing, blend into the city's crowds, and never go to the docks or slums—areas they control—but..."

He glanced at Xiaoyu beside Chen Feng, "It's even harder with a child."

"How do we deal with it?" Chen Feng pressed.

The middle-aged man stared at Chen Feng for a long time before finally uttering two words: "Ruthless enough."

"Be ruthless, faster, and more reckless than them. Make them feel that the cost of capturing you far outweighs the value that can be extracted from you."

He paused, then added, "Or, make them think... you have a powerful force behind you that they can't afford to offend. Even if it's just an act."

Chen Feng nodded slightly.

This is pretty much what he thought. The survival rules in chaotic times (or rather, in such lawless areas) are essentially a contest of power and the establishment of deterrence.

"The landing location, time, and method of rendezvous; will the smuggler communicate with the snake catcher?" Chen Feng asked the crucial question.

"Usually...yes."

The middle-aged man didn't hide anything: "This is a 'handover.' The smugglers get a 'referral fee' or a cut from the subsequent ransom. The snake catchers ensure the 'goods' don't escape once they reach the shore, reducing their capture costs. It's a win-win situation."

Silence fell again inside the cabin.

The couple had completely sunk into the mire of despair, and even their trembling had become weak.

Chen Feng got the information he wanted.

He closed his eyes again and began to calculate rapidly in his mind.

The snakehead and the snake catcher are colluding – that's the worst-case scenario, but it also means… there might be an opportunity?

If snake catchers would "receive the goods" at a specific location in advance, then that location must be where they are relatively concentrated and where they believe they have the strongest control.

Chaos, but perhaps...opportunity?

Directly confronting a group of local bullies and going head-to-head is undoubtedly like throwing an egg against a rock, especially with Xiaoyu involved.

However, if one can create unexpected chaos at the moment of "handover" and take advantage of the opponent's underestimation and procedural mentality, it might be possible to create an opening.

It requires timing, accurate judgment, and... ruthless killing.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the cold grip of the gun at his waist.

The gun was full of bullets.

His heart was burning with murderous intent.

Hong Kong Island, snake catchers, snakeheads...

No matter what kind of demons or monsters lie ahead, or what kind of dragon's den or tiger's lair it is.

Did he want to harm Xiaoyu, to treat him like a "human snake" to be slaughtered at will?

Then let's tell them with blood—

Who is the real hunter, and who is... the King of Hell who cannot be provoked?