I started by watching videos, and I chose 10,000 combat power.

When the three coaches saw Luo Fei speeding up, they assumed he was going to run away.

They immediately sped up, their flippers kicking so hard they almost splashed water, and soon caught up with Luo Fei.

Three yellow diving suits surrounded Luo Fei's family from different directions.

The coach closest to Li Xiulan was less than three meters away. He could even see her eyes shining with excitement behind the mirror, and her cheeks puffed out slightly from biting her breathing tube.

His mouth stretched into a wider grin, revealing a row of slightly crooked teeth below his breathing tube.

Then they took action.

They didn't act simultaneously, but their coordination was so perfect it was as if they had rehearsed it a hundred times—the two coaches suddenly turned around, one rushing towards A-Jie, and the other pouncing on Xiao-Lin.

The coach who rushed towards A-Jie was tall, with shoulders as broad as a door.

He rammed his body into A-Jie, grabbed A-Jie's buoyancy control device straps tightly with both hands, and pulled him down forcefully, trying to push A-Jie to the bottom of the sea.

Ah Jie remained calm.

Although his body was pulled down two meters, he quickly regained his balance.

He grabbed the other man's wrists with both hands, hooked his thumbs around the end of the man's radius, and forcefully pried them outwards—this is a grappling technique, which is much more strenuous to perform underwater than on land.

Fortunately, Ah Jie was quite strong, and the other person loosened their grip slightly in pain, but did not completely let go.

The two were entangled together, and bubbles burst violently from their breathing tubes, like two pots boiling at the same time.

The coach who rushed towards Kobayashi clearly underestimated her.

He assumed that Xiaolin was just a pretty girl with a good figure and no fighting ability underwater, so he didn't even bother to use tactics and directly reached out to grab the valve of her air cylinder, wanting to turn off her air supply first.

This is a common trick they use. Once they stop breathing, tourists panic because they can't get oxygen and will be at their mercy.

However, before his hand could even touch the gas cylinder, Kobayashi's body suddenly twisted as nimbly as a fish, and he vanished from his sight in an instant.

He was stunned for a moment, then felt his flippers being grabbed and a huge force pulling him down. He immediately lost his balance and fell headfirst into the sea.

Kobayashi was below him, one hand gripping his flippers, the other already reaching for the diving knife behind his waist.

The hilt was in her palm, the blade still hidden in the scabbard, but the hard feel of it gave her enough confidence.

Ah Jie and Xiao Lin did not fall behind in the struggle, but they could not subdue their opponent for the time being.

Their fighting skills are not bad, but the underwater environment is completely different from that on land—buoyancy, drag, limited breathing, and obstructed vision—each factor weakens their fighting ability.

The other party is a professional diving instructor who spends most of his time at sea and has far more underwater experience than they do.

Moreover, those two weren't looking to win, they just wanted to stall for time. If they could hold off A-Jie and Xiao-Lin for a few dozen seconds, the third person could succeed.

The third person was the coach who initially held up the writing board.

Seeing that his two companions had engaged A-Jie and Xiao-Lin, he immediately accelerated and rushed towards Li Xiulan and Luo Weidong.

His goal was very clear—their oxygen tubes.

He doesn't need to do anything to the elderly; simply unplugging their oxygen tubes or turning off the gas cylinder valve will cause them to panic, choke on water, and be in danger.

At that time, he will be able to raise the price on the spot and demand money.

They won't give it to me? Then the old man can swim up himself and see if they dare.

He extended his hand.

The target was Li Xiulan's gas cylinder valve, located just below the back of her head, a black knob that turned right to close and left to open.

My fingers have already touched the edge of the valve.

A slight smile played on his lips, and he had already calculated the price in his mind—five thousand first, and if they didn't give it to him, he would raise it to ten thousand.

Anyway, they seem to be well-off; that yacht is quite valuable, so they shouldn't be short of money.

Li Xiulan was completely unaware of this.

Her gaze had now shifted from Luo Fei to a manta ray swimming overhead.

That manta ray had a wingspan of at least two meters, a black back, and a white belly. Its gliding posture in the water resembled that of a giant bird, elegant, composed, and unhurried.

She tilted her head back, held her phone high, the camera following the manta ray, and made excited "mmm" sounds with a breathing tube in her mouth.

Luo Weidong was also looking at the manta ray, but his phone camera was pointed at Li Xiulan as she looked up to take a picture.

He thought this angle was exceptionally good; the light shone down from the water and fell on Li Xiulan's face. Her face mirror reflected the light, obscuring her eyes, but he could clearly see the smile on her lips.

Just then, the hand reaching for the valve suddenly stopped.

It was caught by a hand wearing a black glove.

The hand reached out from behind Li Xiulan, as fast as a silent lightning bolt, and precisely grabbed the coach's wrist.

Five fingers gripped his radius and ulna like five steel bars, and a faint sound, as if the bones were slowly breaking, was heard—a crack.

The sound was like someone slowly smashing a bone with a hammer.

The coach's mouth was open behind the breathing tube. He tried to shout, but no sound came out. Only bubbles burst violently from his mouth, one after another, quickly obscuring his mask.

His eyes were wide open behind the bubbles, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

The pain wasn't a sharp, stabbing pain, but a dull, deep, churning pain that seemed to churn from the bone, as if something had exploded in his wrist, shattering the bone into fragments.

He looked down at his hands—the hands were still there, but the shape was wrong; the angle of his wrists was twisted, and the direction of his palms was not in a straight line with his arms.

Luo Fei stood upright in front of the coach, his face behind the mirror expressionless and devoid of any emotion, simply watching him quietly.

His right hand was still gripping the coach's wrist, while his left hand rose and reached for the gas cylinder behind the coach. He pinched the valve knob on the gas cylinder and turned it to the right—closing it.

The knob was suddenly turned shut, all the way to the end.

The remaining oxygen in the cylinder was cut off and no longer supplied to the breathing tube.

No more bubbles came out of the coach's breathing tube. He took a breath, but there was nothing. He took another breath, but it was still empty.

Fear began to spread across his face. He had no time to think about why Luo Fei, who had been far away from him just moments before, had suddenly appeared beside him. His left hand quickly reached for the valve on his gas cylinder, trying to turn the gas supply back on.

But his left hand was shaking so badly that he couldn't turn it over no matter how many times he tried—not because the valve had become too tight, but because his right hand was broken and he was in a panic, so he couldn't muster any strength.

He held his breath, the air in his lungs was being consumed little by little, the concentration of carbon dioxide in his blood was constantly rising, and his brain began to send out alarms—breathe, breathe, or he would die.

Luo Fei loosened his wrist.

The broken, twisted wrist hung limply, like a broken branch dangling from the arm, swaying gently with the current.

Then, Luo Fei reached out and grabbed the coach's breathing tube, not pulling it out, but tearing it out of his mouth along with the mouthpiece.

The rubber mouthpiece slid across his teeth, scraping against them. He felt a sharp pain, but he didn't care. His mouth was empty; no breathing tube, no mouthpiece, nothing to provide air.

His mouth was open, like a fish thrown ashore, opening and closing, but all he inhaled was seawater—salty, bitter, and fishy seawater gushed into his throat, into his trachea, and into his lungs.

He started coughing, but coughing only made him swallow more water.

His body began to convulse, his limbs kicked wildly, and bubbles emerged from his mouth and nose at the same time. The murky, blood-tinged bubbles spread across the blue seawater like an ugly flower.

Luo Fei stared at him.

I just floated there in the water, watching him struggle, watching him choke on water, watching his face turn purple, his eyes bulge, and his lips turn blue from lack of oxygen.

The coach's struggles grew weaker and weaker.

His hands stopped grabbing and his feet stopped kicking. He was like a marionette with its strings cut, floating limply in the water, drifting slowly with the current.

His consciousness gradually blurred, the scene before his eyes slowly darkened, the blue seawater turned gray, then gray turned black, and finally he completely lost his sight.

He recalled many things—the day he first went into the water, the sun was shining brightly, the sea was azure, and the coach praised his talent, saying it would be a pity if he didn't pursue this career.

He ultimately chose this line of work and has been doing it for eight years. In those eight years, he has long since lost count of how many tourists' gas cylinders he turned off and how many tourists' face shields he removed.

He never felt there was anything wrong with it, believing it was just business, a mutually agreeable arrangement. "If you don't pay, I'll scare you; that's only fair."

But now, in this blue and tranquil seabed, his lungs are filled with seawater, and his consciousness is fading away. He suddenly feels that something was wrong from the very beginning.

Luo Fei reached out and grabbed the shoulder strap of his buoyancy control device, lifting him up as if he were carrying a bag of garbage.

He didn't look at the distorted face, but turned his head and glanced at his parents.

Li Xiulan was still photographing the manta ray. She had more than a dozen photos of the manta ray on her phone. Each one was a little blurry, but she thought each one was good.

Luo Weidong continued photographing Li Xiulan. His phone contained dozens of photos of his wife: chasing fish, photographing coral, and looking up at manta rays—each one crystal clear. He took the photos meticulously, ensuring each one was in focus and accurate before pressing the shutter.

They knew nothing and saw nothing.

Luo Fei withdrew his gaze and looked down at the coach in his hand, who was already half-conscious.

Then, he released his grip, letting the person sink silently to the bottom of the sea like a stone.