Chapter Five: The Old Brother from the Northwest

The moment that guy shouted he wanted to kill me, the others exploded with agreement, all eager to pin every sin on me. Before I could even process what was happening, someone behind me reached out and locked an arm around my throat. The other three grabbed my arms and legs, determinedly forcing me down into the water.

The water here was putrid, no different from what you'd find in a toilet. A mouthful of filthy liquid choked my throat, and I could feel something squirming inside my mouth. Reflexively, I bit down, snapping it in half—one part swept away, the other still twisting between my teeth.

My nose stung with the assault of dirty water, mud, and insects, all flooding my throat at once. Instinctively, I fought back with everything I had—kicking and twisting—but how could one person overpower four? Within seconds, they had shoved me under, half my head buried in the muck.

Sensing my life slipping away, I could only bury my head further and, with all my strength, bite the hand choking my neck. Instantly, a shrill scream pierced the air as the filthy water before my eyes turned crimson. The pain forced my attacker to let go.

If you want to kill me, it won't be that easy!

Determined to take at least one of them down with me, I hooked a leg around the nearest assailant, flipping him under me and smashing his face hard into the mud. Though I was already choking, my chest tight and aching, I refused to let go, no matter how he struggled.

But then, several powerful hands pressed down on my back—an attempt to pull me off and save their companion, or so I thought. I had underestimated the darkness in people, for they weren’t trying to rescue anyone. They pinned me down with all their might, their intent clear: they wanted to drown us both.

In this cramped water prison, with water so high, losing two people would make the space more comfortable. With two bodies underfoot, they could even stand taller and breathe more easily.

I don’t know how long they held me under—long enough that the guy beneath me went limp, surely dead. As for me, I should have passed out from lack of oxygen, perhaps even died. Strangely, though my nose and chest ached, my mind was clear, and my limbs weren’t numb.

Quickly, I realized this must have something to do with the amber my sister had told me about. Though I only half-understood its power, I knew without it, I’d have died in the jungle long ago.

Eventually, the hands pinning me down loosened; they must have thought I was dead.

“Damn it! It’s been nearly a quarter of an hour! That kid must be…” one muttered.

I sat up abruptly and punched the speaker with all my strength.

With a dull thud, half his face swelled instantly, and several teeth flew from his mouth. He spun in place several times before collapsing face-first into the filthy water, likely unconscious.

Seeing this, the two remaining men in the water prison were terrified, perhaps thinking I was some kind of unkillable monster.

Without a word, I kicked each of them hard. Though all three had suffered my blows, none dared fight back.

The guy I’d drowned was the most robust of the four, and the one who had started the uproar. The remaining three were all thin and frail, the tallest barely reaching my chin.

Having been trained in close combat, I could easily have killed them, especially since they’d just tried to take my life. It would have been reasonable enough. But I didn’t, because we still had to endure seven days in this water prison. In this hot, humid environment, corpses would rot and stink within a day. I had no desire to spend a week soaking alongside four decomposing bodies.

“Don’t try anything with me again! Or I’ll kill you all!” I threatened in a hoarse voice.

I turned to scan the other water prisons. The prisoners inside cast fearful glances at me, especially those who’d just joined in the call for my death—they immediately looked away, not daring to meet my eyes.

The guy I’d knocked out soon woke, coughing up water. Perhaps out of boredom, or fear of my revenge, he tried to strike up a conversation.

“Brother, don’t blame us for what happened earlier! It was all his idea!” he said, kicking the corpse beneath the surface.

I was speechless. I hadn’t even accused them, yet they were already trying to shift the blame.

Still, I noticed the fear in their eyes as they looked at me—they probably thought I was a monster.

I ignored him, but he kept talking anyway, revealing a lot about himself.

It turned out the four of them had been tricked into the compound before me. Like most others, they’d been lured by shady agents from a small, remote village in the northwest, promised high-paying jobs at overseas branches. Previously, they’d all been farm laborers. The one I’d drowned was the oldest and, since they were from the same village, naturally became their leader.

“So, brother, how did you get tricked into coming here?” he asked, his accent thick with the northwest.

I frowned, reluctant to answer. “I wasn’t tricked. I came here myself. Then these bastards ambushed me and dragged me in.”

“You came here on your own? With all these people here, why would you do that? For big money?” he asked, puzzled.

“I’m here looking for someone,” I replied, shooting him a glare.

“Looking for someone? A man or a woman?”

“A woman.”

“Is she beautiful?”

I paused, then replied, “Let’s put it this way—I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful than her in my life.”

He frowned deeply at that. “Oh, brother, then you really shouldn’t have come. Beautiful women don’t survive in a place like this!”

His words struck a nerve—that was my greatest fear. I thought of the girls on the plaza, offered as rewards, of the horror that had happened to 2050, and my heart ached. If it were my sister…

I didn’t dare think further. Forcing myself to focus, I continued the conversation.

“My parents died young. She’s taken care of me all my life. No matter if she’s dead or alive, I have to find her.”

I wanted to say more, but stopped—San was already aware I had an inside contact, and if he figured out the sibling connection, he might start to suspect. Thinking of San, I asked, “What about San—who is he? Is he the boss here?”

Since they’d been here longer, they must know more.

“We’re not sure. The henchmen say the real boss’s surname is Ming. San’s probably just a minor lackey,” the northwest guy answered.

I nodded thoughtfully. In shady businesses like this, the big boss always stays hidden in the shadows, rarely appearing in public.

We chatted sporadically as dusk fell. The factory bell rang again—end of the workday. The northwest guy grew restless, gripping the bars and peering toward the canteen.

“Damn it, I’m starving! Are those bastards even going to bring us food?”

No sooner had he spoken than a curse rang out from the shore.

“Filthy pigs! No results, always fighting! And you still want to eat? Bah!”

I looked over and saw two henchmen standing on the bank, watching us with schadenfreude.

The northwest guy shivered. It was autumn now; though the water felt warm during the day, it was now cold enough to make him shake uncontrollably.

“Freezing, are you, pig?” one of the henchmen sneered. “Here, let me warm you up!”

With that, the two unbuckled their belts and began urinating on us, aiming especially for our faces.

I couldn’t stand the humiliation and immediately submerged my head in the water.

“Damn pig! Still dare to hide?”

With a curse, I suddenly felt myself yanked upward. The two henchmen had hooked me out of the water with a long pole.

“Hiding, are you? You’re good at that, huh? Try hiding again!”

They cursed as they jabbed me with electric batons, delivering several harsh shocks. The violent spasms and searing pain made me cry out.

“Enough! Stop playing around! If we’re late, we’ll miss dinner!” one finally said. Reluctantly, they put away their batons, and before leaving, spit in my face.

“Haha! Remember this, pig! I’ll come piss on you every day from now on!”

With that, the two henchmen strode off.

I’d never suffered such humiliation. Fury burned in my chest, and I scooped up a handful of mud, ready to throw it after them.

The northwest guy quickly grabbed my arm.

“Hey, brother, calm down! Acting out like that is suicide!”

After a brief struggle, the henchmen were gone, and I dropped the mud in frustration.

“Brother, listen to me. When they beat you, you can’t dodge—never fight back, or it’ll only get worse! These dogs love nothing more than tormenting people. When they hit you, you have to act like it hurts, act pitiful. If you don’t, they’ll just hit you harder,” he told me.

Now calmer, I nodded. No matter what had happened, this northwest guy didn’t seem like a bad person—perhaps he’d only been led astray.

From then on, I never forgot this survival rule he’d shared with me.

I glanced over at the muddy shore where the henchmen had stood; only a few deep footprints remained. Suddenly, an idea took root in my mind—a plan to give those two a taste of their own medicine.